As it is the will that designs the benefit, and the matter that conveys it, so it is the judgment that perfects it; which depends upon so many critical niceties, that the least error, either in the person, the matter, the manner, the quality, the quantity, the time, or the place, spoils all.
The will determines the benefit, and the matter delivers it, but judgment perfects it. This judgment depends on so many critical details that the smallest error ruins everything. It doesn't matter if the mistake involves the person, the matter, the manner, the quality, the quantity, the time, or the place.
The consideration of the person is a main point: for we are to give by choice, and not by hazard. My inclination bids me oblige one man; I am bound in duty and justice to serve another; here it is a charity, there it is pity; and elsewhere, perhaps, encouragement. There are some that want, to whom I would not give; because, if I did, they would want still. To one man I would barely offer a benefit; but I would press it upon another. To say the truth, we do not employ any more profit than that which we bestow; and it is not to our friends, our acquaintances or countrymen, nor to this or that condition of men, that we are to restrain our bounties; but wheresoever there is a man, there is a place and occasion for a benefit. We give to some that are good already; to others, in hope to make them so: but we must do all with discretion; for we are as well answerable for what we give as for what we receive; nay, the misplacing of a benefit is worse than the not receiving of it; for the one is another man’s fault; but the other is mine. The error of the giver does oft-times excuse the ingratitude of the receiver: for a favor ill-placed is rather a profusion than a benefit. It is the most shameful of losses, an inconsiderate bounty. I will choose a man of integrity, sincere, considerate, grateful, temperate, well-natured, neither covetous nor sordid: and when I have obliged such a man, though not worth a groat in the world, I have gained my end. If we give only to receive, we lose the fairest objects of our charity: the absent, the sick, the captive, and the needy. When we oblige those that can never pay us again in kind, as a stranger upon his last farewell, or a necessitous person upon his death-bed, we make Providence our debtor, and rejoice in the conscience even of a fruitless benefit. So long as we are affected with passions, and distracted with hopes and fears, and (the most unmanly of vices) with our pleasures, we are incompetent judges where to place our bounties: but when death presents itself, and that we come to our last will and testament, we leave our fortunes to the most worthy. He that gives nothing, but in hopes of receiving, must die intestate. It is the honesty of another man’s mind that moves the kindness of mine; and I would sooner oblige a grateful man than an ungrateful: but this shall not hinder me from doing good also to a person that is known to be ungrateful: only with this difference, that I will serve the one in all extremities with my life and fortune, and the other no farther than stands with my convenience. But what shall I do, you will say, to know whether a man will be grateful or not? I will follow probability, and hope the best. He that sows is not sure to reap; nor the seaman to reach his port; nor the soldier to win the field: he that weds is not sure his wife shall be honest, or his children dutiful: but shall we therefore neither sow, sail, bear arms, nor marry? Nay, if I knew a man to be incurably thankless, I would yet be so kind as to put him in his way, or let him light a candle at mine, or draw water at my well; which may stand him perhaps in great stead, and yet not be reckoned as a benefit from me; for I do it carelessly, and not for his sake, but my own; as an office of humanity, without any choice or kindness.
The most important thing is choosing the right person to help. We should give by choice, not by chance. My feelings tell me to help one person, while duty and justice require me to serve another. In one case it's charity, in another it's pity, and sometimes it's encouragement. Some people who are in need, I wouldn't help at all. If I did, they would still be in need afterward. I would barely offer help to one person, but I would insist on helping another. To be honest, we don't gain any more benefit than what we give away. We shouldn't limit our generosity just to friends, acquaintances, or countrymen, or to certain types of people. Wherever there's a human being, there's a place and reason to help. We give to some people who are already good, and to others hoping to make them better. But we must use good judgment in everything. We're just as responsible for what we give as for what we receive. Actually, giving help to the wrong person is worse than not receiving help at all. One is someone else's mistake, but the other is mine. The giver's error often excuses the receiver's ingratitude. A favor given to the wrong person is wasteful rather than helpful. Thoughtless generosity is the most shameful kind of loss. I will choose someone with integrity who is sincere, thoughtful, grateful, moderate, and good-natured. Someone who isn't greedy or cheap. When I've helped such a person, even if they don't have a penny to their name, I've achieved my goal. If we only give to receive something back, we miss the best opportunities for charity: helping those who are absent, sick, imprisoned, or needy. When we help people who can never repay us, like a stranger saying his final goodbye or a poor person on his deathbed, we make God our debtor. We can take joy in knowing we did good even when we get nothing back. As long as we're driven by emotions and distracted by hopes, fears, and pleasures (the most unmanly of vices), we can't judge well where to place our help. But when death approaches and we write our final will, we leave our money to the most deserving people. Someone who gives nothing except hoping to get something back will die without a will. It's another person's honest character that inspires my kindness. I would rather help a grateful person than an ungrateful one. But this won't stop me from also helping someone known to be ungrateful. The difference is that I'll serve the grateful person with my life and fortune in any crisis, while I'll only help the ungrateful person when it's convenient for me. But how can I know whether someone will be grateful or not, you ask? I'll follow the odds and hope for the best. The farmer who plants isn't sure he'll harvest. The sailor isn't sure he'll reach port. The soldier isn't sure he'll win the battle. The man who marries isn't sure his wife will be faithful or his children obedient. But should we therefore never plant, sail, fight, or marry? Even if I knew someone was hopelessly ungrateful, I would still be kind enough to point them in the right direction, let them light a candle from mine, or draw water from my well. This might help them greatly, yet it wouldn't count as a real favor from me. I do it carelessly, not for their sake but for my own, as a basic human courtesy, without any special choice or kindness.