There once was a time when strange things were taught, and the lives of men were made unhappy in proportion to the earnestness with which they believed these teachings. One of the things taught in those days was the duty of every man to do good, on the condition that doing good involved his own losing of good. It is true there was promised compensation for the losing of good, namely, that in a far future state, to be reached only by suffering the greatest possible loss, the loss of life, a reward would be found laid up, then to be enjoyed. What this reward would be was vaguely stated, but the portal thereto was dreaded and speech about it avoided.
Nevertheless the duty was undertaken by many who honestly tried to do good, and their accomplishment was measured by the amount of personal loss of good involved. Giving was not considered true charity if it did not involve deprivation in some way. Work for others was not considered virtue if it did not cause weariness. The exhausted missionary who failed to live out half his days was viewed as a type of true devotion. The nurse who carried a patient through a siege of illness was expected to be a candidate for nursing thereafter. The rich man's giving was depreciated because it was not supposed to make him feel any loss or diminishment. The man of uninvaded happiness was not valued as a good man. on the theory that unless the giver of good felt privation because of giving, and had his happiness lessened, he might be sure it was not real good that he was giving.
To what shall we liken this theory? If we think of places where no rivers flow, and no springs break forth, and the heat glows as a furnace, where the blessing of water is only what each one can catch and store in his cistern when the rains fall, we may reckon that each drop from the cistern imparted would lessen the visible supply. For the too reckless giver thirst would impend. Hence giving would always imply loss, and might lead to deprivation. Having these conditions, it would be commendable to give, according to the theory spoken of; but the defect of the theory is its limitation. Should a man in that community dig a well and find a spring of water, and send a rivulet clear-flowing through the street of the city that all might drink therefrom, he would not be a benefactor, because his giving caused him no loss, no deprivation. The citizen who reluctantly gave in cupfuls from his cistern, anxiously viewing the waning supply, would have merit though his service was to very few. But the man who in discovering supply for himself brought the overflow of good to many, would have no merit, according to the theory, which thereby is shown to be fallacious. And consequently the opposite method of doing good by gaining good must be the correct method.
