They took their meals together; and it was remarked on such

“They took their meals together; and it was remarked on such occasions, when the friendship of animals is put to a hard test, that they never quarrelled or disputed the possession of a favourite fruit with each other.” In these tender and almost reverent words, Henry Walter Bates, the great Victorian naturalist and explorer, records not merely a scene of nature but a revelation of harmony. He speaks of animals — humble creatures of the wild — who share food without envy, whose friendship endures even under trial, when appetite might divide them. Beneath this simple observation lies a profound moral truth: that true friendship is proven not in comfort, but in competition; not when abundance abounds, but when desire tempts the heart to selfishness. Bates, in describing the peace of these creatures, unveils a mirror for humankind — a lesson drawn not from the temples of philosophy, but from the silent wisdom of the forest.

At its core, this quote reveals a timeless truth about the nature of friendship and virtue. For as Bates writes, it is easy to love when love costs nothing — when the table is full and the path is smooth. But when hunger presses, when scarcity or envy tests the bond, then the measure of loyalty is known. The animals he observed shared their fruit without quarrel — a quiet triumph of companionship over instinct. They lived, in that moment, the very ideal that human beings, for all their reason and religion, often fail to achieve. In them, Bates saw a purity of friendship that needed no language, no covenant, no praise — only mutual respect, born of trust. It is as if nature itself, through them, whispered: To be a friend is to prefer harmony to possession.

The origin of this reflection lies in Bates’s long years of exploration in the Amazon basin during the mid-19th century, when he studied the lives of insects, birds, and mammals in their natural states. Among them, he saw not only the struggle for survival but also the quiet grace of coexistence — alliances between creatures that shared food, space, and life itself. This observation, though recorded scientifically, carries the soul of a philosopher. In the simplicity of beasts, Bates discerned the sacred law of fellowship — a law older than humanity, written in the rhythm of the natural world. While men often divide over power, pride, or possessions, these creatures of the wild lived by a truer code: that friendship is greater than hunger, and peace more precious than plenty.

History offers its own reflections of this truth. Consider the tale of David and Jonathan, whose friendship in the ancient scriptures stood as one of the noblest ever recorded. Jonathan, though the son of a king and heir to a throne, loved David, the shepherd-warrior destined to replace him. When envy and ambition might have turned them into rivals, Jonathan instead laid down his claim and blessed his friend. His heart, like the animals in Bates’s forest, did not “quarrel for the possession of the fruit.” His love sought not advantage, but the flourishing of another. Through his selflessness, Jonathan proved that true friendship is not measured by what one gains, but by what one is willing to surrender for the sake of harmony and goodness.

Yet Bates’s words also offer a quiet reproach to the modern spirit — that restless craving for more, that quarrel for the “favourite fruit” of status, wealth, or recognition. Too often, human beings turn friendship into transaction, measuring it by convenience or self-interest. They forget that the bond of hearts cannot thrive in the soil of competition. The animals, in their innocence, have no pride to corrupt their companionship. They eat side by side, content in the shared abundance of the moment. In their humble example lies a truth that even the greatest empires have forgotten: peace among friends is a greater treasure than any fruit the world can offer.

The lesson here is both gentle and profound: true friendship is proven by self-restraint and generosity. When the moment of test arrives — when both desire the same prize, or when need sharpens appetite — that is when the soul must choose between love and possession. To choose love is to rise above the instinct of taking; to share, even when one could grasp, is the mark of nobility. The heart that can rejoice in another’s portion, rather than covet it, has achieved a kind of quiet majesty. It is a virtue not of weakness, but of strength — for only the strong in spirit can prefer peace to triumph.

In practice, this means learning to celebrate others without envy, to sit at the shared table of life without greed. If your friend succeeds, let your joy equal theirs. If both hunger for the same dream, let generosity, not jealousy, be your guide. For friendship, like the forest Bates loved, thrives on balance — give and take, shade and sunlight. Guard against the small quarrels that corrode trust, the silent rivalries that poison affection. Let your companionship be like the animals he described — simple, unselfish, untroubled by pride.

Thus, Henry Walter Bates, in observing the fellowship of creatures beneath the Amazonian canopy, gave humankind a parable older than civilization itself. The beasts of the earth, bound by instinct, have found peace in the sharing of their meal — yet man, gifted with reason and soul, often devours both fruit and friend in his hunger for more. Let us then look again to nature, and learn. Let us eat together without envy, live together without rivalry, and walk together without fear. For in the quiet friendship of hearts that do not quarrel, we find the truest reflection of paradise — the state of peace for which every soul, whether beast or man, was made.