but consciousness of a man's having done fomething praise-worthy, and expreffive of a great foul? Whereas, if in all this he only facrificed to vanity and felf-love, as there would be nothing brave in actions that make the most fhining appearance, fo nature would not have rewarded them with this divine pleasure; nor could the commendations, which a perfon receives for benefits done upon felfish views, be at all more fatiffactory, than when he is applauded for what he doeth without defign; becaufe in both cafes the ends of felf-love are equally answered. The confcience of approving one's-felf a benefactor to mankind is the nobleft recompence for being fo; doubtless it is, and the most interested cannot propofe any thing fo much to their own advantage; notwithftanding which, the inclination is nevertheless unfelfish. The pleasure which attends the gratification of our hunger and thirst, is not the cause of these appetites; they are previous to any fuch profpect; and fo likewife is the defire of doing good; with this difference, that being feated in the intellectual part, this laft, though antecedent to reason, may yet be improved and regulated by it, and, I will add, is no otherwife a virtue

than as it is fo. Thus have I contend, ed for the dignity of that nature I have the honour to partake of; and, after all the evidence produced, I think I have a right to conclude, against the motto of this paper, that there is fuch a thing as generofity in the world. Though if I were under a mistake in this, I should fay as Cicero in relation to the immortality of the foul, I willingly err, and fhould believe it very much for the intereft of mankind to lie under the same delufion. For the contrary notion naturally tends to difpirit the mind, and finks it into a meannefs fatal to the Godlike zeal of doing good: as, on the other hand, it teaches people to be ungrateful, by poffeffing them with a perfua. fion concerning their benefactors, that they have no regard to them in the benefits they bettow. Now he that banifhes gratitude from among men, by fo doing, ftops up the ftream of benefi cence. For though in conferring kindneffes, a truly generous man doth not aim at a return, yet he looks to the qualities of the perfon obliged; and as nothing renders a perfon more unworthy of a benefit, than his being without all refentment of it, he will not be extreme. ly forward to oblige fuch a man, Mr. Hutcheson.

OVID. MET. L. 8. VER. 774

I

SIR,

Am fo great an admirer of trees, that the spot of ground I have chofen to build a finall feat upon, in the country, is almoft in the midft of a large wood. I was obliged, much against my will, to cut down feveral trees, that I might have any fuch thing as a walk in my gardens; but then I have taken care to leave the space, between every waik, as much a wood as I found it. The moment you turn either to the right or left, you are in a foreft, where nature prefents you with a much more beautiful fcene than could have been raifed by

art.

Inftead of tulips or carnations, I can fhew you oaks in my gardens of four hundred years ftanding, and a knot of elms that might shelter a troop of horse from the rain.

It is not without the utmof indignation, that I obferve feveral prodigal young heirs in the neighbourhood, felling down the most glorious monuments of their ancestors' indultry, and ruining, in a day, the product of ages.

I am mightily pleafed with your difcourfe upon planting, which put me upon looking into my books to give you fome account of the veneration the ancients had for trees. There is an old tradition,

tradition, that Abraham planted a cyprefs, a pine, and a cedar, and that thefe three incorporated into one tree, which was cut down for the building of the temple of Solomon.

Ifidorus, who lived in the reign of Conftantius, affures us, that he saw, even in his time, that famous oak in the plains of Mamré, under which Abraham is reported to have dwelt; and adds, that the people looked upon it with a great veneration, and preferved it as a facred tree.

The heathens till went farther, and regarded it as the higheft piece of facrilege to injure certain trees which they took to be protected by fome deity. The ftory of Erificthon, the grove at Dodona, and that at Delphi, are all inftances of this kind.

If we confider the machine in Virgil, fo much blamed by feveral critics in this light, we shall hardly think it too vio

lent.

Æneas, when he built his fleet in order to fail for Italy, was obliged to cut down the grove on mount Ida, which however he durft not do until he had obtained leave from Cybele, to whom it was dedicated. The goddefs could not but think herself obliged to protect these ships, which were made of confecrated timber, after a very extraordinary manner, and therefore defired Jupiter, that they might not be obnoxious to the power of waves or winds. Jupiter would not grant this, but promifed her, that as many as came fafe to Italy fhould be transformed into goddeffes of the fea; which the poet tells us was accordingly

executed.

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 thefe nymphs had fo near a dependence on fome trees, more especially oaks, that they lived and died together. For this reafon they were extremely grateful to fuch perfons who preferved thofe trees with which their being fubfifted. Apollonius tells us a very remarkable story to this purpofe, with which I fhall conclude my letter.

A certain man, called Rhæcus, obferving an old oak ready to fall, and being moved with a fort of compaffion towards the tree, ordered his fervants to pour in fresh earth at the roots of it, and fet it upright. The Hamadryad, or nymph, who must neceffarily have perifhed with the tree, appeared to him the next day, and after having returned him her thanks, told him, fhe was ready to grant whatever he should afk. As fhe was extremely beautiful, Rhæcus defired he might be entertained as her lover. The Hamadryad, not much difpleafed with the requeft, promised to give him a meeting, but commanded him for fome days to abstain from the embraces of all other women, adding that the would fend a bee to him, to let him know when he was to be happy. Rhecus 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; fo 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 ufage

of

of her meffenger, that the deprived Rhæeus of the ufe of his limbs. However, fays the ftory, he was not fo much a

cripple, but he made a fhift to cut down the tree, and confequently to fell his miftreis.

TH

DRYDEN.

WE confider infinite space as an expanfion without a circumference: we confider eternity, or infinite duration, as a line that has neither a begin ning nor an end. In our fpeculations of infinite space, we confider that particular place in which we exift, as a kind of centre to the whole expanfion. In our fpeculations of eternity, we confider the time which is prefent to us as the middle, which divides the whole line into two equal parts. For this reafon, many witty authors compare the prefent time to an ifthmus, or narrow neck of land, that rifes in the midft of an ocean, immeafurably diffused on either fide

of it.

Philofophy, and indeed common fenfe, naturally throws eternity under two divifions, which we may call in English, that eternity which is paft, and that eternity which is to come. The learned terms of Eternitas a parte ante, and Eternitas a parte pft, may be more amufing to the reader, but can have no other idea affixed to them than what is conveyed to us by thofe words, an eter

Let us first of all confider that eternity which is paft, referving that which is to come for the fubject of another paper. The nature of this eternity is utterly inconceivable by the mind of man: our reafon demonftrates to us that it has been, but at the fame time can frame no idea of it, but what is big with abfurdity and contradiction. We can have no other conception of any duration which is past, than that all of it was once prefent; and whatever was once prefent, is at fome certain distance from us, and whatever is at any certain diftance from us, be the distance never fo remote, cannot be eternity. The very notion of any duration's being past, implies that it was once prefent, for the idea of being once prefent, is actually included in the idea of it's being past. This, therefore, is a depth not to be founded by human understanding. We are fure that there has been an eternity, and yet contradi& ourfelves when we measure this eternity by any notion which we can frame of it.

If we go to the bottom of this matter, we fhall find that the difficulties we meet with in our conceptions of eternity proceed from this fingle reafon, that we can have no other idea of any kind of duration, than that by which we ourfelves, and all other created beings, do exift; which is, a fucceffive duration made up of paft, prefent, and to come. There is nothing which exifts after this manner, all the parts of whofe exiftence were not once actually present, and confequently may be reached by a certain number of years applied to it. We may afcend as high as we please, and employ our being to that eternity which is to come, in adding millions of years to millions of years, and we can never come up to any fountain-head of duration, to any beginning in eternity: but at the fame time we are fure, that whatever was once prefent does lie within the reach of numbers, though perhaps we can never be able to put enough of them together for that purpose. We may as well fay, that any thing may be actually prefent in any part of infinite fpace, which does not lie at a certain diftance from us, as that any part of infinite duration was once actually prefent, and does not alfo lie at fome determined diftance from us. The diftance in both cafes may be immeafurable and indefinite as to our faculties, but our reafon tells us that it cannot be fo in itself. Here, therefore, is that difficulty which human understanding is not capable of furmounting. We are fure that fomething must have existed from eternity, and are at the fame time unable to conceive, that any thing which exifts, according to our notion of exiftence, can have exifted from eternity.

It is hard for a reader, who has not rolled this thought in his own mind, to follow in fuch an abstracted fpeculation; but I have been the longer on it, because I think it is a demonftrative argument of the being and eternity of God: and though there are many other demonstrations which lead us to this great truth, I do not think we ought to lay afide any proofs in this matter, which the light of reafon has fuggefted to us, especially when it is fuch a one as has been urged by men famous for their penetration and force of understanding, and which appears altogether conclufive to those who will be at the pains to examine it.

Having thus confidered that eternity

which is past, according to the best idea we can frame of it, I shall now draw up thofe feveral articles on this fubject, which are dictated to us by the light of reason, and which may be looked upon as the creed of a philofopher in this great point.

First, It is certain that no being could have made itself; for if fo, it must have acted before it was, which is a contradiction.

Secondly, That therefore fome being must have exifted from all eternity.

Thirdly, That whatever exifts after the manner of created beings, or according to any notions which we have of existence, could not have existed from eternity.

Fourthly, That this eternal Being must therefore be the great Author of nature, the Ancient of Days,' who being at an infinite diftance in his perfections from all finite and created beings, exifts in a quite different manner from them, and in a manner of which they can have no idea.

I know that feveral of the schoolmen who would not be thought ignorant of any thing, have pretended to explain the manner of God's existence, by telling us, that he comprehends infinite duration in every moment; that eternity is with him a punctum ftans, a fixed point; or, which is as good fenfe, an infinite inftant; that nothing, with reference to his existence, is either paft or to come: to which the ingenious Mr. Cowley alludes in his description of heaven

Nothing is there to come, and nothing paft, But an eternal now does always laft.

For my own part, I look upon these propofitions as words that have no ideas annexed to them; and think men had better own their ignorance, than advance doctrines by which they mean nothing, and which, indeed, a. e self-contradictory. We cannot be too modeft in our difquifitions, when we meditate on him, who is environed with fo much glory and perfection, who is the source of being, the fountain of all that existence which we and his whole creation derive from him. Let us therefore with the utmott humility acknowledge, that as fome being muft neceffarily have existed from eternity, fo this Being does exift after an incomprehenfible manner, fince it is impoffible for a being to have ex7 H

ifted