Brotherly Love: Shewing That as Merely Human It May Not Always Be Depended Upon

In Short

Set in the nineteenth century, this moralizing story follows thirteen-year-old Marten Mortimer, who insists he is mature enough to look after his younger brother, Reuben, while their parents are away on urgent business. His vanity and lack of focus, however, lead to a series of negligent mistakes, culminating in the disappearance of the young child. Through this harrowing experience, Marten learns that human promises are fragile and that true wisdom requires acknowledging one’s limitations and relying on a higher, more constant protection than his own flawed judgment.

The Story

When Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer must leave home abruptly to visit a relative in Portsmouth, the primary concern is the care of their two sons, Marten and the younger, sensitive Reuben. Marten, eager to prove his adulthood, insists he is perfectly capable of managing the household, the pets, and his brother. His parents, though anxious, entrust the boys to his care, praying they remain safe under divine protection.

Almost immediately, Marten’s arrogance begins to manifest as neglect. While he considers himself a responsible guardian, he is easily distracted by his own desires and the social expectations of his peers. The first signs of his failure appear when he and Reuben accidentally leave the aviary door open, allowing their mother's beloved doves to escape. Though they manage to retrieve the birds, Marten’s solution is to lock them away with a padlock, prioritizing control over the birds’ well-being.

The situation worsens when Marten decides to take Reuben to a gathering at the home of their friend, Edward Jameson. Against the advice of the family nurse, who recognizes that the toddler is unaccustomed to strangers and chaotic environments, Marten pushes forward with his plan to impress his friends. Once at the Jameson estate, Marten is caught up in games, pony races, and the company of others. He soon abandons Reuben to the care of a group of young girls who, while not malicious, are frivolous and entirely unequipped to watch over a small child.

Reuben, feeling neglected, weary, and hungry, wanders off during a raucous game of blindman’s buff. When he realizes he is lost, the frightened toddler attempts to find his way home alone. Guided by the memory of the "Nine Elms" that he and his brother often visited, he sets out on the wrong path, eventually finding himself stranded by a roaring cascade.

Meanwhile, panic erupts at the Jameson house when the child is discovered missing. Marten, stricken by the realization of his own vanity and negligence, faces the terrifying prospect of having caused his brother’s harm. The story reaches its emotional climax when the family dog, Nero—whom Marten had been instructed to exercise but had effectively neglected—independently wanders to the stream. The faithful animal finds Reuben, providing the comfort and companionship that ultimately leads the toddler to safety. When Reuben finally returns home, the family experiences a moment of profound relief. The ordeal forces Marten to acknowledge that his self-importance was a dangerous delusion. He learns that he is not the wise, steady protector he imagined himself to be, and that his "brotherly love" was merely a human sentiment prone to failure, unlike the constant, divine care that ultimately shielded his brother from the consequences of his arrogance.

How It Unfolds

The departure The parents leave for Portsmouth, reluctantly entrusting the care of young Reuben to his teenage brother, Marten. Marten dismisses his mother’s natural anxiety, boasting of his own maturity and ability to manage the household.

The first lapse Marten’s preoccupation with himself leads to the neglect of the family doves, which escape their aviary due to his carelessness. He attempts to solve this problem by locking the birds away, ignoring the needs of the animals and his brother’s desire to interact with them.

The ill-advised visit Ignoring the nurse's warnings, Marten insists on taking Reuben to a party at the Jameson estate. His desire to participate in social activities and impress his friends causes him to abandon his charge entirely.

The disappearance While Marten is distracted by games, Reuben wanders off and becomes lost. He attempts a perilous journey home alone, eventually becoming trapped near a dangerous stream.

The rescue The household descends into a frantic search as the reality of the child's absence sets in. Nero, the family dog, acts as the unwitting agent of providence, finding the shivering boy and standing by him until he is discovered.

The sobering lesson Marten is forced to confront the depth of his vanity and the fragility of his own promises. The story concludes with a spiritual reflection on the necessity of seeking divine guidance rather than relying on one's own perceived strength.

The People

Marten Mortimer is the central figure, a boy of thirteen who views himself as a budding man. His primary motivation is to be seen as independent and capable, but this pride acts as a barrier to actual responsibility. He moves from arrogant self-assurance to deep, repentant remorse.

Reuben is the young, innocent, and highly dependent brother. He possesses a sweet temperament and a trusting nature, looking to Marten as a guide. His vulnerability highlights the danger of Marten’s negligence, and his ultimate survival serves as the catalyst for his brother's moral awakening.

The Nurse acts as the voice of reason and experience. She correctly identifies Marten’s unreadiness to care for the toddler and provides the friction that highlights Marten’s stubbornness. She remains a bystander to his mistakes but serves as a reminder of what true, watchful care looks like.

Mary Roscoe is a kind-hearted girl at the Jameson estate who briefly takes an interest in Reuben. While she is more compassionate than her peers, she is nonetheless caught up in the frivolity of the group, illustrating the theme that even well-meaning people can be unreliable if they lack a sense of higher duty.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding Marten’s dismissal of his mother’s concern:

"Anxious, dear mamma," exclaimed Marten, who had overheard the remark. "Anxious," he repeated, "why I am a great boy now, and I shall soon be a man, when I shall have to take care of myself altogether."

Regarding the dog’s superior sense of duty compared to the boy’s:

And even now Marten might have read this lesson, had he been wise enough so to do that already, he had been led away by temptation to forget his brother, and that though he had done so, Nero had been more faithful than himself.

Regarding the spiritual argument at the conclusion of the narrative:

All the wisdom of man lies in knowing that unless he is guided in all his actions by his heavenly Father, he is sure to go wrong, let his age or condition be what it may.

What It's Really About

The book is a moral inquiry into the nature of human reliability. Its central argument is that human love, when rooted in pride or vanity, is fundamentally undependable. Marten’s transformation hinges on the realization that his claim to be a "brotherly" protector was a form of self-idolatry. The book poses the question of whether a child—or any person—can truly be trusted to act with consistency when motivated by the desire for status rather than service. It insists that true responsibility is not a product of age or individual will, but an act of submission to a higher moral order that cares for the vulnerable when human agency inevitably falters.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy historical juvenile fiction will find this a fascinating specimen of 19th-century moral instruction. It is a slow, methodical read that prioritizes didactic outcomes over fast-paced action. The language is formal and occasionally ornate, typical of the era’s literature for the young, which can make it feel distant to a contemporary ear.

The most striking aspect of the book is its unsparing critique of the protagonist. Modern readers may find the intensity of the author's judgment toward a thirteen-year-old boy quite harsh, but this is exactly what makes it a compelling historical document. It offers a glimpse into a time when character was viewed as something to be rigorously tested and shaped through the "fright" of consequences. While the dialect and the rigid social expectations of the period might feel restrictive, there is a genuine warmth in the author's concern for the safety of the child. It remains a thought-provoking, if sobering, look at how the arrogance of the young can lead to genuine peril, and how those in positions of trust must learn to look beyond their own reflection to truly care for others.