L. Annaeus Seneca on Benefits
XXV. By nothing did Furnius gain greater credit with Augustus, and make
it easy for him to obtain anything else for which he might ask, than
by merely saying, when at his request Augustus pardoned his father for
having taken Antonius's side, "One wrong alone I have received at your
hands, Caesar; you have forced me to live and to die owing you a greater
debt of gratitude than I can ever repay." What can prove gratitude
so well as that a man should never be satisfied, should never even
entertain the hope of making any adequate return for what he has
received? By these and similar expressions we must try not to conceal
our gratitude, but to display it as clearly as possible. No words need
be used; if we only feel as we ought, our thankfulness will be shown in
our countenances. He who intends to be grateful, let him think how he
shall repay a kindness while he is receiving it. Chrysippus says that
such a man must watch for his opportunity, and spring forward whenever
it offers, like one who has been entered for a race, and who stands at
the starting-point waiting for the barriers to be thrown open; and even
then he must use great exertions and great swiftness to catch the other,
who has a start of him.
XXVI. We must now consider what is the main cause of ingratitude. It is
caused by excessive self-esteem, by that fault innate in all mortals,
of taking a partial view of ourselves and our own acts, by greed, or by
jealousy.
Let us begin with the first of these. Every one is prejudiced in his own
favour, from which it follows that he believes himself to have earned
all that he receives, regards it as payment for his services, and does
not think that he has been appraised at a valuation sufficiently near
his own. "He has given me this," says he, "but how late, after how much
toil? how much more might I have earned if I had attached myself to So
and so, or to So and so? I did not expect this; I have been treated like
one of the herd; did he really think that I only deserved so little?
why, it would have been less insulting to have passed me over
altogether."
XXVII. The augur Cnaeus Lentulus, who, before his freedmen reduced him
to poverty, was one of the richest of men, who saw himself in possession
of a fortune of four hundred millions--I say advisedly, "saw," for he
never did more than see it--was as barren and contemptible in intellect
as he was in spirit. Though very avaricious, yet he was so poor a
speaker that he found it easier to give men coins than words. This man,
who owed all his prosperity to the late Emperor Augustus, to whom he had
brought only poverty, encumbered with a noble name, when he had risen to
be the chief man in Rome, both in wealth and influence, used sometimes
to complain that Augustus had interrupted his legal studies, observing
that he had not received anything like what he had lost by giving up the
study of eloquence. Yet the truth was that Augustus, besides loading him
with other gifts, had set him free from the necessity of making himself
ridiculous by labouring at a profession in which he never could succeed.
Greed does not permit any one to be grateful; for what is given is never
equal to its base desires, and the more we receive the more we
covet, for avarice is much more eager when it has to deal with great
accumulations of wealth, just as the power of a flame is enormously
greater in proportion to the size of the conflagration from which it
springs. Ambition in like manner suffers no man to rest satisfied with
that measure of public honours, to gain which was once the limit of his
wildest hope; no one is thankful for becoming tribune, but grumbles at
not being at once promoted to the post of praetor; nor is he grateful
for this if the consulship does not follow; and even this does not
satisfy him if he be consul but once. His greed ever stretches itself
out further, and he does not understand the greatness of his success
because he always looks forward to the point at which he aims, and never
back towards that from which he started.
XXVIII. A more violent and distressing vice than any of these is
jealousy which disturbs us by suggesting comparisons. "He gave me this,
but he gave more to that man, and he gave it to him before me;" after
which he sympathises with no one, but pushes his own claims to the
prejudice of every one else. How much more straightforward and modest
is it to make the most of what we have received, knowing that no man is
valued so highly by any one else as by his own, self! "I ought to have
received more, but it was not easy for him to give more; he was obliged
to distribute his liberality among many persons. This is only the
beginning; let me be contented, and by my gratitude encourage him to
show me more favour; he has not done as much as he ought, but he will
do so the more frequently; he certainly preferred that man to me, but he
has preferred me before many others; that man is not my equal either in
virtue or in services, but he has some charm of his own: by complaining
I shall not make myself deserve to receive more, but shall become
unworthy of what I have received. More has been given to those most
villainous men than has been given to me; well, what is that to the
purpose? how seldom does Fortune show judgment in her choice? We
complain every day of the success of bad men; very often the hail passes
over the estates of the greatest villains and strikes down the crops of
the best of men; every man has to take his chance, in friendship as well
as in everything else." There is no benefit so great that spitefulness
can pick no holes in it, none so paltry that it cannot be made more of
by friendly interpretation. We shall never want a subject for complaint
if we look at benefits on their wrong side.
XXIX. See how unjustly the gifts of heaven are valued even by some who
profess themselves philosophers, who complain that we are not as big
as elephants, as swift as stags, as light as birds, as strong as bulls;
that the skins of seals are stronger, of hinds prettier, of bears
thicker, of beavers softer than ours; that dogs excel us in delicacy of
scent, eagles in keenness of sight, crows in length of days, and many
beasts in ease of swimming. And although nature itself does not allow
some qualities, as for example strength and swiftness, to be combined
in the same person, yet they call it a monstrous thing that men are not
compounded of different and inconsistent good qualities, and call the
gods neglectful of us because we have not been given health which even
our vices cannot destroy, or knowledge of the future. They scarcely
refrain from rising to such a pitch of impudence as to hate nature
because we are below the gods, and not on an equality with them.
How much better is it to turn to the contemplation of so many great
blessings, and to be thankful that the gods have been pleased to give us
a place second only to themselves in this most beautiful abode, and that
they have appointed us to be the lords of the earth! Can any one compare
us with the animals over whom we rule? Nothing has been denied us except
what could not have been granted. In like manner, thou that takest an
unfair view of the lot of mankind, think what blessings our Father has
bestowed upon us, how far more powerful animals than ourselves we have
broken to harness, how we catch those which are far swifter, how
nothing that has life is placed beyond the reach of our weapons! We have
received so many excellencies, so many crafts, above all our mind, which
can pierce at once whatever it is directed against, which is swifter
than the stars in their courses, for it arrives before them at the place
which they will reach after many ages; and besides this, so many fruits
of the earth, so much treasure, such masses of various things piled one
upon another. You may go through the whole order of nature, and since
you find no entire creature which you would prefer to be, you may choose
from each, the special qualities which you would like to be given to
yourself; then, if you rightly appreciate the partiality of nature for
you, you cannot but confess yourself to be her spoiled child. So it is;
the immortal gods have unto this day always held us most dear, and
have bestowed upon us the greatest possible honour, a place nearest to
themselves. We have indeed received great things, yet not too great.
XXX. I have thought it necessary, my friend Liberalis, to state these
facts, both because when speaking of small benefits one ought to make
some mention of the greatest, and because also this shameless and
hateful vice (of ingratitude), starting with these, transfers itself
from them to all the rest. If a man scorn these, the greatest of all
benefits, to whom will he feel gratitude, what gift will he regard as
valuable or deserving to be returned: to whom will he be grateful for
his safety or his life, if he denies that he has received from the gods
that existence which he begs from them daily? He, therefore, who teaches
men to be grateful, pleads the cause not only of men, but even of the
gods, for though they, being placed above all desires, cannot be in want
of anything, yet we can nevertheless offer them our gratitude.
No one is justified in seeking an excuse for ingratitude in his own
weakness or poverty, or in saying, "What am I to do, and how? When can I
repay my debt to my superiors the lords of heaven and earth?" Avaricious
as you are, it is easy for you to give them thanks, without expense;
lazy though you be, you can do it without labour. At the same instant at
which you received your debt towards them, if you wish to repay it,
you have done as much as any one can do, for he returns a benefit who
receives it with good will.
XXXI. This paradox of the Stoic philosophy, that he returns a benefit
who receives it with good will, is, in my opinion, either far from
admirable, or else it is incredible. For if we look at everything merely
from the point of view of our intentions, every man has done as much
as he chose to do; and since filial piety, good faith, justice, and in
short every virtue is complete within itself, a man may be grateful in
intention even though he may not be able to lift a hand to prove his
gratitude. Whenever a man obtains what he aimed at, he receives the
fruit of his labour. When a man bestows a benefit, at what does he aim?
clearly to be of service and afford pleasure to him upon whom he bestows
it. If he does what he wishes, if his purpose reaches me and fills us
each with joy, he has gained his object. He does not wish anything to be
given to him in return, or else it becomes an exchange of commodities,
not a bestowal of benefits. A man steers well who reaches the port for
which he started: a dart hurled by a steady hand performs its duty if it
hits the mark; one who bestows a benefit wishes it to be received with
gratitude; he gets what he wanted if it be well received. "But," you
say, "he hoped for some profit also." Then it was not a benefit, the
property of which is to think nothing of any repayment. I receive what
was given me in the same spirit in which it was given: then I have
repaid it. If this be not true, then this best of deeds has this worst
of conditions attached to it, that it depends entirely upon fortune
whether I am grateful or not, for if my fortune is adverse I can make no
repayment. The intention is enough. What then? am I not to do whatever
I may be able to repay it, and ought I not ever to be on the watch for
an opportunity of filling the bosom [Footnote: Sinus, the fold of the
toga over the breast, used as a pocket by the Romans. The great French
actor Talma, when dressed for the first time in correct classical
costume, indignantly asked where he was to put his snuff-box.] of him