The Spectator Volume Iii Part 94

Man may be considered in two Views, as a Reasonable, and as a Sociable Being; capable of becoming himself either happy or miserable, and of contributing to the Happiness or Misery of his Fellow Creatures.

Suitably to this double Capacity, the Contriver of Human Nature hath wisely furnished it with two Principles of Action, Self-love and Benevolence; designed one of them to render Man wakeful to his own personal Interest, the other to dispose him for giving his utmost a.s.sistance to all engaged in the same Pursuit. This is such an Account of our Frame, so agreeable to Reason, so much for the Honour of our Maker, and the Credit of our Species, that it may appear somewhat unaccountable what should induce Men to represent human Nature as they do under Characters of Disadvantage, or, having drawn it with a little and sordid Aspect, what Pleasure they can possibly take in such a Picture. Do they reflect that 'tis their Own, and, if we will believe themselves, is not more odious than the Original?

One of the first that talked in this lofty Strain of our Nature was _Epicurus_. Beneficence, would his Followers say, is all founded in Weakness; and, whatever be pretended, the Kindness that pa.s.seth between Men and Men is by every Man directed to himself. This, it must be confessed, is of a Piece with the rest of that hopeful Philosophy, which having patch'd Man up out of the four Elements, attributes his Being to Chance, and derives all his Actions from an unintelligible Declination of Atoms. And for these glorious Discoveries the Poet is beyond Measure transported in the Praises of his Hero, as if he must needs be something more than Man, only for an Endeavour to prove that Man is in nothing superior to Beasts.

In this School was Mr. _Hobs_ instructed to speak after the same Manner, if he did not rather draw his Knowledge from an Observation of his own Temper; for he somewhere unluckily lays down this as a Rule,

'That from the Similitudes of Thoughts and Pa.s.sions of one Man to the Thoughts and Pa.s.sions of another, whosoever looks into himself and considers what he doth when he thinks, hopes, fears, &c., and upon what Grounds; he shall hereby read and know what are the Thoughts and Pa.s.sions of all other Men upon the like Occasions.'

Now we will allow Mr. _Hobs_ to know best how he was inclined; But in earnest, I should be heartily out of Conceit with my self, if I thought my self of this unamiable Temper, as he affirms, and should have as little Kindness for my self as for any Body in the World. Hitherto I always imagined that kind and benevolent Propensions were the original Growth of the Heart of Man, and, however checked and over-topped by counter Inclinations that have since sprung up within us, have still some Force in the worst of Tempers, and a considerable Influence on the best. And, methinks, it's a fair Step towards the Proof of this, that the most beneficent of all Beings is He who hath an absolute Fulness of Perfection in Himself, who gave Existence to the Universe, and so cannot be supposed to want that which He communicated, without diminis.h.i.+ng from the Plenitude of his own Power and Happiness. The Philosophers before mentioned have indeed done all that in them lay to invalidate this Argument; for, placing the G.o.ds in a State of the most elevated Blessedness, they describe them as Selfish as we poor miserable Mortals can be, and shut them out from all Concern for Mankind, upon the Score of their having no Need of us.

But if He that sitteth in the Heavens wants not us, we stand in continual Need of Him; and surely, next to the Survey of the immense Treasures of his own Mind, the most exalted Pleasure He receives is from beholding Millions of Creatures, lately drawn out of the Gulph of Non-existence, rejoycing in the various Degrees of Being and Happiness imparted to them. And as this is the true, the glorious Character of the Deity, so in forming a reasonable Creature He would not, if possible, suffer his Image to pa.s.s out of his Hands unadorned with a Resemblance of Himself in this most lovely Part of his Nature. For what Complacency could a Mind, whose Love is as unbounded as his Knowledge, have in a Work so unlike Himself? a Creature that should be capable of knowing and conversing with a vast Circle of Objects, and love none but Himself?

What Proportion would there be between the Head and the Heart of such a Creature, its Affections, and its Understandings? Or could a Society of such Creatures, with no other Bottom but Self-Love on which to maintain a Commerce, ever flourish? Reason, 'tis certain, would oblige every Man to pursue the general Happiness, as the Means to procure and establish his own; and yet if, besides this Consideration, there were not a natural Instinct, prompting Men to desire the Welfare and Satisfaction of others, Self-Love, in Defiance of the Admonitions of Reason, would quickly run all Things into a State of War and Confusion.

As nearly interested as the Soul is in the Fate of the Body; our provident Creator saw it necessary, by the constant Returns of Hunger and Thirst, those importunate Appet.i.tes, to put it in Mind of its Charge; knowing, that if we should eat and drink no oftner than cold abstracted Speculation should put us upon these Exercises, and then leave it to Reason to prescribe the Quant.i.ty, we should soon refine our selves out of this bodily Life. And indeed, 'tis obvious to remark, that we follow nothing heartily, unless carried to it by Inclinations which antic.i.p.ate our Reason, and, like a Bia.s.s, draw the Mind strongly towards it. In order, therefore, to establish a perpetual Intercourse of Benefits amongst Mankind, their Maker would not fail to give them this generous Prepossession of Benevolence, if, as I have said, it were possible. And from whence can we go about to argue its Impossibility? Is it inconsistent with Self-Love? Are their Motions contrary? No more than the diurnal Rotation of the Earth is opposed to its Annual; or its Motion round its own Center, which may be improved as an Ill.u.s.tration of Self-Love, to that which whirls it about the common Center of the World, answering to universal Benevolence. Is the Force of Self-Love abated, or its Interest prejudiced by Benevolence? So far from it, that Benevolence, though a distinct Principle, is extreamly serviceable to Self-Love, and then doth most Service when 'tis least designed.

But to descend from Reason to Matter of Fact; the Pity which arises on Sight of Persons in Distress, and the Satisfaction of Mind which is the Consequence of having removed them into a happier State, are instead of a thousand Arguments to prove such a thing as a disinterested Benevolence. Did Pity proceed from a Reflection we make upon our Liableness to the same ill Accidents we see befall others, it were nothing to the present Purpose; but this is a.s.signing an artificial Cause of a natural Pa.s.sion, and can by no Means be admitted as a tolerable Account of it, because Children and Persons most Thoughtless about their own Condition, and incapable of entering into the Prospects of Futurity, feel the most violent Touches of Compa.s.sion.

And then as to that charming Delight which immediately follows the giving Joy to another, or relieving his Sorrow, and is, when the Objects are numerous, and the kindness of Importance really inexpressible, what can this be owing to but a Consciousness of a Man's having done some thing Praise-worthy, and expressive of a great Soul? Whereas, if in all this he only Sacrificed to Vanity and Self-Love, as there would be nothing brave in Actions that make the most s.h.i.+ning Appearance, so Nature would not have rewarded them with this divine Pleasure; nor could the Commendations, which a Person receives for Benefits done upon selfish Views, be at all more Satisfactory, than when he is applauded for what he doth without Design; because in both Cases the Ends of Self-Love are equally answered.

The Conscience of approving ones self a Benefactor to Mankind is the n.o.blest Recompence for being so; doubtless it is, and the most interested cannot propose anything so much to their own Advantage, notwithstanding which, the Inclination is nevertheless unselfish. The Pleasure which attends the Gratification of our Hunger and Thirst, is not the Cause of these Appet.i.tes; they are previous to any such Prospect; and so likewise is the Desire of doing Good; with this Difference, that being seated in the intellectual Part, this last, though Antecedent to Reason, may yet be improved and regulated by it, and, I will add, is no otherwise a Virtue than as it is so.

Thus have I contended for the Dignity of that Nature I have the Honour to partake of, and, after all the Evidence produced, think I have a Right to conclude, against the Motto of this Paper, that there is such a thing as Generosity in the World. Though if I were under a Mistake in this, I should say as _Cicero_ in Relation to the Immortality of the Soul, I willingly err, and should believe it very much for the Interest of Mankind to lye under the same Delusion. For the contrary Notion naturally tends to dispirit the Mind, and sinks it into a Meanness fatal to the G.o.dlike Zeal of doing good. As on the other hand, it teaches People to be Ungrateful, by possessing them with a Perswasion concerning their Benefactors, that they have no Regard to them in the Benefits they bestow. Now he that banishes Grat.i.tude from among Men, by so doing stops up the Stream of Beneficence. For though in conferring Kindnesses, a truly generous Man doth not aim at a Return, yet he looks to the Qualities of the Person obliged, and as nothing renders a Person more unworthy of a Benefit, than his being without all Resentment of it, he will not be extreamly forward to Oblige such a Man.

[Footnote 1: The Rev. Henry Grove was a Presbyterian minister, who kept school at Taunton. He was born there in 1683, became a teacher at the age of 23 (already married), and worked for the next 18 years in the Taunton Academy, his department Ethics and Pneumatology. He spent his leisure in religious controversy, writing an 'Essay on the Terms of Christian Communion,' a Discourse on Saving Faith, an Essay on the Soul's Immortality, and miscellanies in prose and verse, including Nos.

588, 601, 626, and 635, of the _Spectator_. He received also 20 a year for ministering to two small congregations in the neighbourhood of Taunton. His wife died in 1736, and he in the year following. His works appeared in 1740 in 4 vols. 8vo.]

No. 589. Friday, September 3, 1714.

'Persequitur scelus ille suum: labefactaque tandem Ictibus innumeris adductaque funibus arbor Corruit.'

Ovid.

_SIR_,

'I am so great an Admirer of Trees, that the Spot of Ground I have chosen to build a small Seat upon, in the Country, is almost in the midst of a large Wood. I was obliged, much against my Will, to cut down several Trees, that I might have any such thing as a Walk in my Gardens; but then I have taken Care to leave the s.p.a.ce, between every Walk, as much a Wood as I found it. The Moment you turn either to the Right or Left, you are in a Forest, where Nature presents you with a much more beautiful Scene than could have been raised by Art.

'Instead of _Tulips_ or _Carnations_, I can shew you _Oakes_ in my Gardens of four hundred Years standing, and a Knot of _Elms_ that might shelter a Troop of Horse from the Rain.

'It is not without the utmost Indignation, that I observe several prodigal young Heirs in the Neighbourhood, felling down the most glorious Monuments of their Ancestors Industry, and ruining, in a Day, the Product of Ages.

'I am mightily pleased with your Discourse upon Planting, which put me upon looking into my Books to give you some Account of the Veneration the Ancients had for Trees. There is an old Tradition, that _Abraham_ planted a _Cypress_, a _Pine_, and a _Cedar_, and that these three incorporated into one Tree, which was cut down for the building of the Temple of _Solomon_.

'_Isidorus_, who lived in the Reign of _Constantius_, a.s.sures us, that he saw, even in his Time, that famous _Oak_ in the Plains of _Mambre_, under which _Abraham_ is reported to have dwelt, and adds, that the People looked upon it with a great Veneration, and preserved it as a Sacred Tree.

'The Heathens still went farther, and regarded it as the highest Piece of Sacrilege to injure certain Trees which they took to be protected by some Deity. The Story of _Erisicthon_, the Grove of _Dodona_, and that at _Delphi_, are all Instances of this Kind.

'If we consider the Machine in _Virgil_, so much blamed by several Criticks, in this Light, we shall hardly think it too violent.

'_aeneas_, when he built his Fleet, in order to sail for _Italy_, was obliged to cut down the Grove on Mount _Ida_, which however he durst not do till he had obtained leave from _Cybele_, to whom it was dedicated. The G.o.ddess could not but think her self obliged to protect these s.h.i.+ps, which were made of Consecrated Timber, after a very extraordinary Manner, and therefore desired _Jupiter_, that they might not be obnoxious to the Power of Waves or Winds. _Jupiter_ would not grant this, but promised her, that as many as came safe to _Italy_ should be transformed into G.o.ddesses of the Sea; which the Poet tells us was accordingly executed.

'And now at length the number'd Hours were come, Prefix'd by Fate's irrevocable Doom, When the great Mother of the G.o.ds was free To save her s.h.i.+ps, and finish_ Jove's _Decree.

First, from the Quarter of the Morn, there sprung A Light that sign'd the Heavens, and shot along: Then from a Cloud, fring'd round with Golden Fires, Were Timbrels heard, and_ Berecynthian _Quires: And last a Voice, with more than Mortal Sounds, Both Hosts in Arms oppos'd, with equal Horror wounds.

O_ Trojan _Race, your needless Aid forbear; And know my s.h.i.+ps are my peculiar Care.

With greater Ease the bold_ Rutulian _may, With hissing Brands, attempt to burn the Sea, Than singe my sacred Pines. But you my Charge, Loos'd from your crooked Anchors launch at large, Exalted each a Nymph: Forsake the Sand, And swim the Seas, at_ Cybele's _Command.

No sooner had the G.o.ddess ceas'd to speak, When lo, th' obedient s.h.i.+ps their Haulsers break; And, strange to tell, like Dolphins in the Main, They plunge their Prows, and dive, and spring again: As many beauteous Maids the Billows sweep, As rode before tall Vessels on the Deep.'

Dryden's Virg.

'The common Opinion concerning the Nymphs, whom the Ancients called _Hamadryads_, is more to the Honour of Trees than any thing yet mentioned. It was thought the Fate of these Nymphs had so near a Dependance on some Trees, more especially Oaks, that they lived and died together. For this Reason they were extremely grateful to such Persons who preserved those Trees with which their Being subsisted.

_Apollonius_ tells us a very remarkable Story to this Purpose, with which I shall conclude my Letter.

'A certain Man, called _Rhoecus_, observing an old Oak ready to fall, and being moved with a sort of Compa.s.sion towards the Tree, ordered his Servants to pour in fresh Earth at the Roots of it, and set it upright. The _Hamadryad_ or Nymph who must necessarily have perished with the Tree, appeared to him the next Day, and after having returned him her Thanks, told him, she was ready to grant whatever he should ask. As she was extreamly Beautiful, _Rhoecus_ desired he might be entertained as her Lover. The _Hamadryad_, not much displeased with the Request, promis'd to give him a Meeting, but commanded him for some Days to abstain from the Embraces of all other Women, adding that she would send a Bee to him, to let him know when he was to be Happy.

_Rhoecus_ was, it seems, too much addicted to Gaming, and happened to be in a Run of ill Luck when the faithful Bee came buzzing about him; so that instead of minding his kind Invitation, he had like to have killed him for his Pains. The _Hamadryad_ was so provoked at her own Disappointment, and the ill Usage of her Messenger, that she deprived _Rhoecus_ of the Use of his Limbs. However, says the Story, he was not so much a Criple, but he made a s.h.i.+ft to cut down the Tree, and consequently to fell his Mistress.

No. 590. Monday, September 6, 1714. Addison.

'--a.s.siduo labuntur tempora motu Non secus ac flumen. Neque enim consistere flumen, Nec levis hora potest: sed ut unda, impellitur unda, Urgeturque prior venienti, urgetque priorem, Tempora sic fugiunt pariter, pariterque sequuntur; Et nova sunt semper. Nam quod fuit ante, relictum est; Fitque quod haud fuerat: momentaque cuncta novantur.'

Ov. Met.