The Pilgrims of the Rhine

by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

  THE TOUR OF THE VIRTUES:

  A PHILOSOPHER'S TALE.

  ONCE upon a time, several of the Virtues, weary of living forever withthe Bishop of Norwich, resolved to make a little excursion; accordingly,though they knew everything on earth was very ill prepared to receivethem, they thought they might safely venture on a tour from WestminsterBridge to Richmond. The day was fine, the wind in their favour, and asto entertainment,--why, there seemed, according to Gertrude, to be nopossibility of any disagreement among the Virtues.

  They took a boat at Westminster stairs; and just as they were about topush off, a poor woman, all in rags, with a child in her arms, imploredtheir compassion. Charity put her hand into her reticule and took outa shilling. Justice, turning round to look after the luggage, saw thefolly which Charity was about to commit. "Heavens!" cried Justice,seizing poor Charity by the arm, "what are you doing? Have you neverread Political Economy? Don't you know that indiscriminate almsgivingis only the encouragement to Idleness, the mother of Vice? You a Virtue,indeed! I'm ashamed of you. Get along with you, good woman;--yet stay,there is a ticket for soup at the Mendicity Society; they'll see ifyou're a proper object of compassion." But Charity is quicker thanJustice, and slipping her hand behind her, the poor woman got theshilling and the ticket for soup too. Economy and Generosity saw thedouble gift. "What waste!" cried Economy, frowning; "what! a ticket anda shilling? _either_ would have sufficed."

  "Either!" said Generosity, "fie! Charity should have given the poorcreature half-a-crown, and Justice a dozen tickets!" So the next tenminutes were consumed in a quarrel between the four Virtues, which wouldhave lasted all the way to Richmond, if Courage had not advised them toget on shore and fight it out. Upon this, the Virtues suddenly perceivedthey had a little forgotten themselves, and Generosity offering thefirst apology, they made it up, and went on very agreeably for the nextmile or two.

  The day now grew a little overcast, and a shower seemed at hand.Prudence, who had on a new bonnet, suggested the propriety of putting toshore for half an hour; Courage was for braving the rain; but, as mostof the Virtues are ladies, Prudence carried it. Just as they were aboutto land, another boat cut in before them very uncivilly, and gave theirssuch a shake that Charity was all but overboard. The company on boardthe uncivil boat, who evidently thought the Virtues extremely lowpersons, for they had nothing very fashionable about their exterior,burst out laughing at Charity's discomposure, especially as alarge basket full of buns, which Charity carried with her for anyhungry-looking children she might encounter at Richmond, fell pounceinto the water. Courage was all on fire; he twisted his mustache, andwould have made an onset on the enemy, if, to his great indignation,Meekness had not forestalled him, by stepping mildly into the hostileboat and offering both cheeks to the foe. This was too much even for theincivility of the boatmen; they made their excuses to the Virtues, andCourage, who is no bully, thought himself bound discontentedly to acceptthem. But oh! if you had seen how Courage used Meekness afterwards, youcould not have believed it possible that one Virtue could be so enragedwith another. This quarrel between the two threw a damp on the party;and they proceeded on their voyage, when the shower was over, withanything but cordiality. I spare you the little squabbles that tookplace in the general conversation,--how Economy found fault with all thevillas by the way, and Temperance expressed becoming indignation at theluxuries of the City barge. They arrived at Richmond, and Temperancewas appointed to order the dinner; meanwhile Hospitality, walking in thegarden, fell in with a large party of Irishmen, and asked them to jointhe repast.

  Imagine the long faces of Economy and Prudence, when they saw theaddition to the company! Hospitality was all spirits; he rubbed hishands and called for champagne with the tone of a younger brother.Temperance soon grew scandalized, and Modesty herself coloured at someof the jokes; but Hospitality, who was now half seas over, called theone a milksop, and swore at the other as a prude. Away went the hours;it was time to return, and they made down to the water-side, thoroughlyout of temper with one another, Economy and Generosity quarrelling allthe way about the bill and the waiters. To make up the sum of theirmortification, they passed a boat where all the company were in the bestpossible spirits, laughing and whooping like mad; and discoveredthese jolly companions to be two or three agreeable Vices, who had putthemselves under the management of Good Temper.

  "So you see, Gertrude, that even the Virtues may fall at loggerheadswith each other, and pass a very sad time of it, if they happen to beof opposite dispositions, and have forgotten to take Good Temper withthem."

  "Ah," said Gertrude, "but you have overloaded your boat; too manyVirtues might contradict one another, but not a few."

  "Voila ce que veux dire," said Vane; "but listen to the sequel of mytale, which now takes a new moral."

  At the end of the voyage, and after a long, sulky silence, Prudencesaid, with a thoughtful air, "My dear friends, I have been thinking thatas long as we keep so entirely together, never mixing with the rest ofthe world, we shall waste our lives in quarrelling amongst ourselves andrun the risk of being still less liked and sought after than we alreadyare. You know that we are none of us popular; every one is quitecontented to see us represented in a vaudeville, or described in anessay. Charity, indeed, has her name often taken in vain at a bazaaror a subscription; and the miser as often talks of the duty he owes to_me_, when he sends the stranger from his door or his grandson to jail:but still we only resemble so many wild beasts, whom everybody likesto see but nobody cares to possess. Now, I propose that we should allseparate and take up our abode with some mortal or other for a year,with the power of changing at the end of that time should we not feelourselves comfortable,--that is, should we not find that we do all thegood we intend; let us try the experiment, and on this day twelvemonthslet us all meet under the largest oak in Windsor Forest, and recountwhat has befallen us." Prudence ceased, as she always does when she hassaid enough; and, delighted at the project, the Virtues agreed toadopt it on the spot. They were enchanted at the idea of setting up forthemselves, and each not doubting his or her success,--for Economy inher heart thought Generosity no Virtue at all, and Meekness looked onCourage as little better than a heathen.

  Generosity, being the most eager and active of all the Virtues, set offfirst on his journey. Justice followed, and kept up with him, though ata more even pace. Charity never heard a sigh, or saw a squalid face, butshe stayed to cheer and console the sufferer,--a kindness which somewhatretarded her progress.

  Courage espied a travelling carriage, with a man and his wife in itquarrelling most conjugally, and he civilly begged he might be permittedto occupy the vacant seat opposite the lady. Economy still lingered,inquiring for the cheapest inns. Poor Modesty looked round and sighed,on finding herself so near to London, where she was almost whollyunknown; but resolved to bend her course thither for two reasons:first, for the novelty of the thing; and, secondly, not liking to exposeherself to any risks by a journey on the Continent. Prudence, thoughthe first to project, was the last to execute; and therefore resolved toremain where she was for that night, and take daylight for her travels.

  The year rolled on, and the Virtues, punctual to the appointment, metunder the oak-tree; they all came nearly at the same time, exceptingEconomy, who had got into a return post-chaise, the horses to which,having been forty miles in the course of the morning, had foundered bythe way, and retarded her journey till night set in. The Virtues lookedsad and sorrowful, as people are wont to do after a long and fruitlessjourney; and, somehow or other, such was the wearing effect of theirintercourse with the world, that they appeared wonderfully diminished insize.

  "Ah, my dear Generosity," said Prudence, with a sigh, "as you werethe first to set out on your travels, pray let us hear your adventuresfirst."

  "You must know, my dear sisters," said Generosity, "that I had not gonemany miles from you before I came to a small country town, in which amarching regiment was quartered, and at
an open window I beheld, leaningover a gentleman's chair, the most beautiful creature imagination everpictured; her eyes shone out like two suns of perfect happiness, and shewas almost cheerful enough to have passed for Good Temper herself. Thegentleman over whose chair she leaned was her husband; they had beenmarried six weeks; he was a lieutenant with one hundred pounds ayear besides his pay. Greatly affected by their poverty, I instantlydetermined, without a second thought, to ensconce myself in the heartof this charming girl. During the first hour in my new residence I mademany wise reflections such as--that Love never was so perfect as whenaccompanied by Poverty; what a vulgar error it was to call the unmarriedstate 'Single _Blessedness_;' how wrong it was of us Virtues never tohave tried the marriage bond; and what a falsehood it was to say thathusbands neglected their wives, for never was there anything in natureso devoted as the love of a husband--six weeks married!

  "The next morning, before breakfast, as the charming Fanny waswaiting for her husband, who had not yet finished his toilet, a poor,wretched-looking object appeared at the window, tearing her hair andwringing her hands; her husband had that morning been dragged to prison,and her seven children had fought for the last mouldy crust. Promptedby me, Fanny, without inquiring further into the matter, drew from hersilken purse a five-pound note, and gave it to the beggar, who departedmore amazed than grateful. Soon after, the lieutenant appeared. 'Whatthe devil, another bill!' muttered he, as he tore the yellow wafer froma large, square, folded, bluish piece of paper. 'Oh, ah! confound thefellow, _he_ must be paid. I must trouble you, Fanny, for fifteen poundsto pay this saddler's bill.'

  "'Fifteen pounds, love?' stammered Fanny, blushing.

  "'Yes, dearest, the fifteen pounds I gave you yesterday.'

  "'I have only ten pounds,' said Fanny, hesitatingly; 'for such a poor,wretched-looking creature was here just now, that I was obliged to giveher five pounds.'

  "'Five pounds? good Heavens!' exclaimed the astonished husband; 'I shallhave no more money this three weeks.' He frowned, he bit his lips, nay,he even wrung his hands, and walked up and down the room; worse still,he broke forth with--'Surely, madam, you did not suppose, when youmarried a lieutenant in a marching regiment, that he could afford toindulge in the whim of giving five pounds to every mendicant who heldout her hand to you? You did not, I say, madam, imagine'--but thebridegroom was interrupted by the convulsive sobs of his wife: it wastheir first quarrel, they were but six weeks married; he looked ather for one moment sternly, the next he was at her feet. 'Forgive me,dearest Fanny,--forgive me, for I cannot forgive myself. I was too greata wretch to say what I did; and do believe, my own Fanny, that whileI may be too poor to indulge you in it, I do from my heart admire sonoble, so disinterested, a generosity.' Not a little proud did I feelto have been the cause of this exemplary husband's admiration for hisamiable wife, and sincerely did I rejoice at having taken up my abodewith these _poor_ people. But not to tire you, my dear sisters, with theminutiae of detail, I shall briefly say that things did not long remainin this delightful position; for before many months had elapsed, poorFanny had to bear with her husband's increased and more frequentstorms of passion, unfollowed by any halcyon and honeymoon suings forforgiveness: for at my instigation every shilling went; and when therewere no more to go, her trinkets and even her clothes followed. Thelieutenant became a complete brute, and even allowed his unbridledtongue to call me--me, sisters, _me_!--'heartless Extravagance.' Hisdespicable brother-officers and their gossiping wives were no better;for they did nothing but animadvert upon my Fanny's ostentation andabsurdity, for by such names had they the impertinence to call _me_.Thus grieved to the soul to find myself the cause of all poor Fanny'smisfortunes, I resolved at the end of the year to leave her, beingthoroughly convinced that, however amiable and praiseworthy I might bein myself, I was totally unfit to be bosom friend and adviser to thewife of a lieutenant in a marching regiment, with only one hundredpounds a year besides his pay."

  The Virtues groaned their sympathy with the unfortunate Fanny; andPrudence, turning to Justice, said, "I long to hear what you have beendoing, for I am certain you cannot have occasioned harm to any one."

  Justice shook her head and said: "Alas! I find that there are times andplaces when even I do better not to appear, as a short account of myadventures will prove to you. No sooner had I left you than I instantlyrepaired to India, and took up my abode with a Brahmin. I was muchshocked by the dreadful inequalities of condition that reigned inthe several castes, and I longed to relieve the poor Pariah from hisignominious destiny; accordingly I set seriously to work on reform.I insisted upon the iniquity of abandoning men from their birth to anirremediable state of contempt, from which no virtue could exalt them.The Brahmins looked upon my Brahmin with ineffable horror. They called_me_ the most wicked of vices; they saw no distinction between Justiceand Atheism. I uprooted their society--that was sufficient crime. Butthe worst was, that the Pariahs themselves regarded me with suspicion;they thought it unnatural in a Brahmin to care for a Pariah! And onecalled me 'Madness,' another, 'Ambition,' and a third, 'The Desire toinnovate.' My poor Brahmin led a miserable life of it; when one day,after observing, at my dictation, that he thought a Pariah's life asmuch entitled to respect as a cow's, he was hurried away by the priestsand secretly broiled on the altar as a fitting reward for his sacrilege.I fled hither in great tribulation, persuaded that in some countrieseven Justice may do harm."

  "As for me," said Charity, not waiting to be asked, "I grieve to saythat I was silly enough to take up my abode with an old lady in Dublin,who never knew what discretion was, and always acted from impulse;my instigation was irresistible, and the money she gave in her drivesthrough the suburbs of Dublin was so lavishly spent that it kept allthe rascals of the city in idleness and whiskey. I found, to my greathorror, that I was a main cause of a terrible epidemic, and that to givealms without discretion was to spread poverty without help. I left thecity when my year was out, and as ill-luck would have it, just at thetime when I was most wanted."

  "And oh," cried Hospitality, "I went to Ireland also. I fixed my abodewith a squireen; I ruined him in a year, and only left him because hehad no longer a hovel to keep me in."

  "As for myself," said Temperance, "I entered the breast of an Englishlegislator, and he brought in a bill against ale-houses; the consequencewas, that the labourers took to gin; and I have been forced to confessthat Temperance may be too zealous when she dictates too vehemently toothers."

  "Well," said Courage, keeping more in the background than he had everdone before, and looking rather ashamed of himself, "that travellingcarriage I got into belonged to a German general and his wife, who werereturning to their own country. Growing very cold as we proceeded, shewrapped me up in a polonaise; but the cold increasing, I inadvertentlycrept into her bosom. Once there I could not get out, and fromthenceforward the poor general had considerably the worst of it.She became so provoking that I wondered how he could refrain from anexplosion. To do him justice, he did at last threaten to get out of thecarriage; upon which, roused by me, she collared him--and conquered.When he got to his own district, things grew worse, for if any_aide-de-camp_ offended her she insisted that he might be publiclyreprimanded; and should the poor general refuse she would with her ownhands confer a caning upon the delinquent. The additional force she hadgained in me was too much odds against the poor general, and he died ofa broken heart, six months after my _liaison_ with his wife. She afterthis became so dreaded and detested, that a conspiracy was formed topoison her; this daunted even me, so I left her without delay,--_et mevoici_!"

  "Humph," said Meekness, with an air of triumph, "I, at least, have beenmore successful than you. On seeing much in the papers of the crueltiespractised by the Turks on the Greeks, I thought my presence would enablethe poor sufferers to bear their misfortunes calmly. I went to Greece,then, at a moment when a well-planned and practicable scheme ofemancipating themselves from the Turkish yoke was arousing their youth.Without confining myself to one individual, I f
litted from breastto breast; I meekened the whole nation; my remonstrances against theinsurrection succeeded, and I had the satisfaction of leaving awhole people ready to be killed or strangled with the most Christianresignation in the world."

  The Virtues, who had been a little cheered by the openingself-complacence of Meekness, would not, to her great astonishment,allow that she had succeeded a whit more happily than her sisters, andcalled next upon Modesty for her confession.

  "You know," said that amiable young lady, "that I went to London insearch of a situation. I spent three months of the twelve in going fromhouse to house, but I could not get a single person to receive me.The ladies declared that they never saw so old-fashioned a gawkey, andcivilly recommended me to their abigails; the abigails turned meround with a stare, and then pushed me down to the kitchen and the fatscullion-maids, who assured me that, 'in the respectable families theyhad the honour to live in, they had never even heard of my name.' Oneyoung housemaid, just from the country, did indeed receive me with somesort of civility; but she very soon lost me in the servants' hall. Inow took refuge with the other sex, as the least uncourteous. I wasfortunate enough to find a young gentleman of remarkable talents, whowelcomed me with open arms. He was full of learning, gentleness, andhonesty. I had only one rival,--Ambition. We both contended for anabsolute empire over him. Whatever Ambition suggested, I damped. DidAmbition urge him to begin a book, I persuaded him it was not worthpublication. Did he get up, full of knowledge, and instigated by myrival, to make a speech (for he was in parliament), I shocked him withthe sense of his assurance, I made his voice droop and his accentsfalter. At last, with an indignant sigh, my rival left him; he retiredinto the country, took orders, and renounced a career he had fondlyhoped would be serviceable to others; but finding I did not suffice forhis happiness, and piqued at his melancholy, I left him before the endof the year, and he has since taken to drinking!"

  The eyes of the Virtues were all turned to Prudence. She was their lasthope. "I am just where I set out," said that discreet Virtue; "I havedone neither good nor harm. To avoid temptation I went and lived with ahermit to whom I soon found that I could be of no use beyond warning himnot to overboil his peas and lentils, not to leave his door open whena storm threatened, and not to fill his pitcher too full at theneighbouring spring. I am thus the only one of you that never did harm;but only because I am the only one of you that never had an opportunityof doing it! In a word," continued Prudence, thoughtfully,--"in a word,my friends, circumstances are necessary to the Virtues themselves. Had,for instance, Economy changed with Generosity, and gone to the poorlieutenant's wife, and had I lodged with the Irish squireen instead ofHospitality, what misfortunes would have been saved to both! Alas! Iperceive we lose all our efficacy when we are misplaced; and _then_,though in reality Virtues, we operate as Vices. Circumstances must befavourable to our exertions, and harmonious with our nature; and welose our very divinity unless Wisdom direct our footsteps to the home weshould inhabit and the dispositions we should govern."

  The story was ended, and the travellers began to dispute about itsmoral. Here let us leave them.