L. Annaeus Seneca on Benefits
"What thou doest, do quickly;"
and:--
"Nothing in the world
Is worth this trouble; I had rather you
Refused it to me now."
When the mind begins through weariness to hate the promised benefit, or
while it is wavering in expectation of it, how can it feel grateful
for it? As the most refined cruelty is that which prolongs the torture,
while to kill the victim at once is a kind of mercy, since the extremity
of torture brings its own end with it--the interval is the worst part of
the execution--so the shorter time a benefit hangs in the balance, the
more grateful it is to the receiver. It is possible to look forward with
anxious disquietude even to good things, and, seeing that most benefits
consist in a release from some form of misery, a man destroys the value
of the benefit which he confers, if he has the power to relieve us,
and yet allows us to suffer or to lack pleasure longer than we need.
Kindness always eager to do good, and one who acts by love naturally
acts at once; he who does us good, but does it tardily and with long
delays, does not do so from the heart. Thus he loses two most important
things: time, and the proof of his good will to us; for a lingering
consent is but a form of denial.
VI. The manner in which things are said or done, my Liberalis, forms a
very important part of every transaction. We gain much by quickness, and
lose much by slowness. Just as in darts, the strength of the iron head
remains the same, but there is an immeasureable difference between the
blow of one hurled with the full swing of the arm and one which merely
drops from the hand, and the same sword either grazes or pierces
according as the blow is delivered; so, in like manner, that which
is given is the same, but the manner in which it is given makes the
difference. How sweet, how precious is a gift, when he who gives does
not permit himself to be thanked, and when while he gives he forgets
that he has given! To reproach a man at the very moment that you are
doing him a service is sheer madness; it is to mix insult with your
favours. We ought not to make our benefits burdensome, or to add any
bitterness to them. Even if there be some subject upon which you wish to
warn your friend, choose some other time for doing so.
VII. Fabius Verrucosus used to compare a benefit bestowed by a harsh man
in an offensive manner to a gritty loaf of bread, which a hungry man is
obliged to receive, but which is painful to eat. When Marius Nepos of
the praetorian guard asked Tiberius Caesar for help to pay his debts,
Tiberius asked him for a list of his creditors; this is calling a
meeting of creditors, not paying debts. When the list was made out,
Tiberius wrote to Nepos telling him that he had ordered the money to be
paid, and adding some offensive reproaches. The result of this was
that Nepos owed no debts, yet received no kindness; Tiberius, indeed,
relieved him from his creditors, but laid him under no obligation.
Tiberius, however, had some design in doing so; I imagine he did not
wish more of his friends to come to him with the same request. His mode
of proceeding was, perhaps, successful in restraining men's extravagant
desires by shame, but he who wishes to confer benefits must follow quite
a different path. In all ways you should make your benefit as acceptable
as possible by presenting it in the most attractive form; but the method
of Tiberius is not to confer benefits, but to reproach.
VIII. Moreover, if incidentally I should say what I think of this part
of the subject, I do not consider that it is becoming even to an emperor
to give merely in order to cover a man with shame. "And yet," we are
told, "Tiberius did not even by this means attain his object; for after
this a good many persons were found to make the same request. He ordered
all of them to explain the reasons of their indebtedness before the
senate, and when they did so, granted them certain definite sums of
money." This is not an act of generosity, but a reprimand. You may call
it a subsidy, or an imperial contribution; it is not a benefit, for
the receiver cannot think of it without shame. I was summoned before a
judge, and had to be tried at bar before I obtained what I asked for.
IX. Accordingly, all writers on ethical philosophy tell us that some
benefits ought to be given in secret, others in public. Those things
which it is glorious to receive, such as military decorations or public
offices, and whatever else gains in value the more widely it is known,
should be conferred in public; on the other hand, when they do not
promote a man or add to his social standing, but help him when in
weakness, in want, or in disgrace, they should be given silently, and so
as to be known only to those who profit by them.
X. Sometimes even the person who is assisted must be deceived, in order
that he may receive our bounty without knowing the source from whence
it flows. It is said that Arcesilaus had a friend who was poor, but
concealed his poverty; who was ill, yet tried to hide his disorder, and
who had not money for the necessary expenses of existence. Without his
knowledge, Arcesilaus placed a bag of money under his pillow, in order
that this victim of false shame might rather seem to find what he wanted
than to receive. "What," say you, "ought he not to know from whom he
received it?" Yes; let him not know it at first, if it be essential to
your kindness that he should not; afterwards I will do so much for him,
and give him so much that he will perceive who was the giver of the
former benefit; or, better still, let him not know that he has received
any thing, provided I know that I have given it. "This," you say, "is to
get too little return for one's goodness." True, if it be an investment
of which you are thinking; but if a gift, it should be given in the way
which will be of most service to the receiver. You should be satisfied
with the approval of your own conscience; if not, you do not really
delight in doing good, but in being seen to do good. "For all that," say
you, "I wish him to know it." Is it a debtor that you seek for? "For
all that, I wish him to know it." What! though it be more useful, more
creditable, more pleasant for him not to know his benefactor, will you
not consent to stand aside? "I wish him to know." So, then, you would
not save a man's life in the dark? I do not deny that, whenever the
matter admits of it, one ought to take into consideration the pleasure
which we receive from the joy of the receiver of our kindness; but if he
ought to have help and is ashamed to receive it--if what we bestow upon
him pains him unless it be concealed--I forbear to make my benefits
public. Why should I not refrain from hinting at my having given him
anything, when the first and most essential rule is, never to reproach
a man with what you have done for him, and not even to remind him of it.
The rule for the giver and receiver of a benefit is, that the one should
straightway forget that he has given, the other should never forget that
he has received it.
XI. A constant reference to one's own services wounds our friend's
feelings. Like the man who was saved from the proscription under
the triumvirate by one of Caesar's friends, and afterwards found it
impossible to endure his preserver's arrogance, they wish to cry, "Give
me back to Caesar." How long will you go on saying, "I saved you, I
snatched you from the jaws of death?" This is indeed life, if I remember
it by my own will, but death if I remember it at yours; I owe you
nothing, if you saved me merely in order to have some one to point at.
How long do you mean to lead me about? how long do you mean to forbid
me to forget my adventure? If I had been a defeated enemy, I should
have been led in triumph but once. We ought not to speak of the benefits
which we have conferred; to remind men of them is to ask them to return
them. We should not obtrude them, or recall the memory of them; you
should only remind a man of what you have given him by giving him
something else. We ought not even to tell others of our good deeds.
He who confers a benefit should be silent, it should be told by the
receiver; for otherwise you may receive the retort which was made to one
who was everywhere boasting of the benefit which he had conferred: "You
will not deny," said his victim, "that you have received a return for
it?" "When?" asked he. "Often," said the other, "and in many places,
that is, wherever and whenever you have told the story." What need is
there for you to speak, and to take the place which belongs to another?
There is a man who can tell the story in a way much more to your credit,
and thus you will gain glory for not telling it your self. You would
think me ungrateful if, through your own silence, no one is to know of
your benefit. So far from doing this, even if any one tells the story in
our presence, we ought to make answer, "He does indeed deserve much more
than this, and I am aware that I have not hitherto done any great things
for him, although I wish to do so." This should not be said jokingly,
nor yet with that air by which some persons repel those whom they
especially wish to attract. In addition to this, we ought to act with
the greatest politeness towards such persons. If the farmer ceases his
labours after he has put in the seed, he will lose what he has sown; it
is only by great pains that seeds are brought to yield a crop; no plant
will bear fruit unless it be tended with equal care from first to last,
and the same rule is true of benefits. Can any benefits be greater than
those which children receive from their parents? Yet these benefits
are useless if they be deserted while young, if the pious care of the
parents does not for a long time watch over the gift which they have
bestowed. So it is with other benefits; unless you help them, you will
lose them; to give is not enough, you must foster what you have given.
If you wish those whom you lay under an obligation to be grateful to
you, you must not merely confer benefits upon them, but you must also
love them. Above all, as I said before, spare their ears; you will weary
them if you remind them of your goodness, if you reproach them with it
you will make them hate you. Pride ought above all things to be avoided
when you confer a benefit. What need have you for disdainful airs,
or swelling phrases? the act itself will exalt you. Let us shun vain
boasting: let us be silent, and let our deeds speak for us. A benefit
conferred with haughtiness not only wins no gratitude, but causes
dislike.
XII. Gaius Caesar granted Pompeius Pennus his life, that is, if not
to take away life be to grant it; then, when Pompeius was set free and
returning thanks to him, he stretched out his left foot to be kissed.
Those who excuse this action, and say that it was not done through
arrogance, say that he wished to show him a gilded, nay a golden slipper
studded with pearls. "Well," say they, "what disgrace can there be in a
man of consular rank kissing gold and pearls, and what part of Caesar's
whole body was it less pollution to kiss?" So, then, that man,
the object of whose life was to change a free state into a Persian
despotism, was not satisfied when a senator, an aged man, a man who had
filled the highest offices in the state, prostrated himself before him
in the presence of all the nobles, just as the vanquished prostrate
themselves before their conqueror! He discovered a place below his knees
down to which he might thrust liberty. What is this but trampling upon
the commonwealth, and that, too, with the left foot, though you may say
that this point does not signify? It was not a sufficiently foul and
frantic outrage for the emperor to sit at the trial of a consular for