There are certain rules in common betwixt the giver and the receiver. We must do both cheerfully, that the giver may receive the fruit of his benefit in the very act of bestowing it. It is a just ground of satisfaction to see a friend pleased; but it is much more to make him so. The intention of the one is to be suited to the intention of the other; and there must be an emulation betwixt them, whether shall oblige most. Let the one say, that he has received a benefit, and let the other persuade himself that he has not returned it. Let the one say, I am paid, and the other, I am yet in your debt; let the benefactor acquit the receiver, and the receiver bind himself. The frankness of the discharge heightens the obligation. It is in conversation as in a tennis-court; benefits are to be tossed like balls; the longer the rest, the better are the gamesters. The giver, in some respect, has the odds, because (as in a race) he starts first, and the other must use great diligence to overtake him. The return must be larger than the first obligation to come up to it; and it is a kind of ingratitude not to render it with interest. In a matter of money, it is a common thing to pay a debt out of course, and before it be due; but we account ourselves to owe nothing for a good office; whereas the benefit increases by delay. So insensible are we of the most important affair of human life! That man were doubtless in a miserable condition, that could neither see, nor hear, nor taste, nor feel, nor smell; but how much more unhappy is he then that, wanting a sense of benefits, loses the greatest comfort in nature in the bliss of giving and receiving them? He that takes a benefit as it is meant is in the right; for the benefactor has then his end, and his only end, when the receiver is grateful.
There are certain rules that both the giver and receiver must follow. We must do both cheerfully, so the giver can enjoy the reward of his kindness in the very act of giving it. It feels good to see a friend pleased, but it feels much better to make him so. The intention of one person should match the intention of the other. There must be a friendly competition between them to see who can be more generous. Let one person say he has received a benefit, and let the other convince himself that he hasn't returned it yet. Let one say, "I am paid," and the other, "I am still in your debt." Let the benefactor release the receiver from obligation, and let the receiver bind himself to it. The generosity of this release makes the obligation stronger. It's like conversation or a tennis match. Benefits should be tossed back and forth like balls. The longer the exchange continues, the better both players become. The giver has some advantage because he starts first, like in a race. The other person must work hard to catch up. The return must be larger than the first gift to equal it. It's a kind of ingratitude not to pay it back with interest. With money, people commonly pay debts early, before they're due. But we think we owe nothing for a good deed, even though the benefit grows stronger with time. We're so unaware of the most important part of human life! A man would surely be miserable if he couldn't see, hear, taste, feel, or smell. But how much more unhappy is someone who lacks a sense for benefits and loses the greatest comfort in nature - the joy of giving and receiving them? Someone who accepts a benefit as it's meant to be taken is doing right. The benefactor achieves his goal, his only goal, when the receiver is grateful.
The more glorious part, in appearance, is that of the giver; but the receiver has undoubtedly the harder game to play in many regards. There are some from whom I would not accept of a benefit; that is to say, from those upon whom I would not bestow one. For why should I not scorn to receive a benefit where I am ashamed to own it? and I would yet be more tender too, where I receive, than where I give; for it is no torment to be in debt where a man has no mind to pay; as it is the greatest delight imaginable to be engaged by a friend, whom I should yet have a kindness for; if I were never so much disobliged. It is a pain to an honest and a generous mind to lie under a duty of affection against inclination. I do not speak here of wise men, that love to do what they ought to do; that have their passions at command; that prescribe laws to themselves, and keep them when they have done; but of men in a state of imperfection, that may have a good will perhaps to be honest, and yet be overborne by the contumacy of their affections. We must therefore have a care to whom we become obliged; and I would be much stricter yet in the choice of a creditor for benefits than for money. In the one case, it is but paying what I had, and the debt is discharged; in the other, I do not only owe more, but when I have paid that, I am still in arrear: and this law is the very foundation of friendship. I will suppose myself a prisoner; and a notorious villain offers to lay down a good sum of money for my redemption. First, Shall I make use of this money or not? Secondly, If I do, what return shall I make him for it? To the first point, I will take it; but only as a debt; not as a benefit, that shall ever tie me to a friendship with him; and, secondly, my acknowledgment shall be only correspondent to such an obligation. It is a school question, whether or not Brutus, that thought Cæsar not fit to live, (and put himself at the head of a conspiracy against him,) could honestly have received his life from Cæsar, if he had fallen into Cæsar’s power, without examining what reason moved him to that action? How great a man soever he was in other cases, without dispute he was extremely out in this, and below the dignity of his profession. For a Stoic to fear the name of a king, when yet monarchy is the best state of government; or there to hope for liberty, where so great rewards are propounded, both for tyrants and their slaves; for him to imagine ever to bring the laws to their former state, where so many thousand lives had been lost in the contest, not so much whether they should serve or not, but who should be their master: he was strangely mistaken, in the nature and reason of things, to fancy, that when Julius was gone, somebody else would not start up in his place, when there was yet a Tarquin found, after so many kings that were destroyed, either by sword or thunder: and yet the resolution is, that he might have received it, but not as a benefit; for at that rate I owe my life to every man that does not take it away.
Giving appears more glorious than receiving, but the receiver actually faces the harder challenge in many ways. There are some people from whom I would never accept a favor. These are the same people I would never help myself. Why should I accept a benefit from someone when I'd be ashamed to admit it? I would be even more careful about who I receive from than who I give to. It's no burden to owe money when you have no intention of paying it back. But it's a wonderful feeling to be helped by a friend you'd still care about, even if they had wronged you. An honest and generous person suffers when forced to feel grateful against their natural inclination. I'm not talking about wise people who love doing what's right, who control their emotions, who set rules for themselves and follow them. I mean imperfect people who may want to be honest but get overwhelmed by stubborn feelings. We must be careful about who we become indebted to. I would be much stricter in choosing someone to owe a favor than someone to owe money. With money, I just pay back what I borrowed and the debt is cleared. With favors, I not only owe more, but even after I've repaid it, I'm still behind. This principle forms the foundation of friendship. Imagine I'm a prisoner, and a notorious criminal offers to pay a large sum for my freedom. First, should I accept this money? Second, if I do, what do I owe him in return? I would take the money, but only as a debt, not as a favor that would bind me to friendship with him. My thanks would match only that level of obligation. Here's a philosophical question: Could Brutus honestly have accepted his life from Caesar if he had fallen into Caesar's power? Remember, Brutus believed Caesar wasn't fit to live and led a conspiracy against him. Would it matter what motivated Caesar to spare him? However great Brutus was in other matters, he was clearly wrong here and fell short of his philosophical standards. For a Stoic to fear the title of king when monarchy is actually the best form of government was foolish. To hope for liberty where such great rewards exist for both tyrants and their slaves was naive. To imagine he could restore the old laws after thousands had died in civil war was unrealistic. The conflict wasn't really about whether people should serve, but about who should be their master. Brutus was badly mistaken about how things actually work. He should have realized that when Julius was gone, someone else would take his place. After all, even after many kings were destroyed by sword or lightning, there was still a Tarquin to be found. Still, the answer is that Brutus could have accepted his life from Caesar, but not as a favor. At that rate, I would owe my life to every person who simply chooses not to kill me.
Græcinus Julius (whom Caligula put to death out of a pure malice to his virtue) had a considerable sum of money sent him from Fabius Persicus (a man of great and infamous example) as a contribution towards the expense of plays and other public entertainments; but Julius would not receive it; and some of his friends that had an eye more upon the present than the presenter, asked him, with some freedom, what he meant by refusing it? “Why,” says he, “do you think that I will take money where I would not take so much as a glass of wine?” After this Rebilus (a man of the same stamp) sent him a greater sum upon the same score. “You must excuse me,” says he to the messenger, “for I would not take any thing of Persicus neither.”
Græcinus Julius (whom Caligula put to death out of pure hatred for his virtue) received a large sum of money from Fabius Persicus. Persicus was a man of great but infamous reputation. The money was meant to help pay for plays and other public entertainments. But Julius refused to accept it. Some of his friends cared more about the gift than the giver. They asked him quite boldly what he meant by refusing it. "Why," he said, "do you think I would take money from someone I wouldn't even accept a glass of wine from?" Later, Rebilus sent him an even larger sum for the same purpose. Rebilus was a man of the same character as Persicus. "You must excuse me," Julius told the messenger, "because I wouldn't take anything from Persicus either."
To match this scruple of receiving money with another of keeping it; and the sum not above three pence, or a groat at most. There was a certain Pythagorean that contracted with a cobbler for a pair of shoes, and some three or four days after, going to pay him his money, the shop was shut up; and when he had knocked a great while at the door, “Friend,” says a fellow, “you may hammer your heart out there, for the man that you look for is dead. And when our friends are dead, we hear no more news of them; but yours, that are to live again, will shift well enough,” (alluding to Pythagora’s transmigration). Upon this the philosopher went away, with his money chinking in his hand, and well enough content to save it: at last, his conscience took check at it; and, upon reflection, “Though the man be dead,” says he, “to others, he is alive to thee; pay him what thou owest him:” and so he went back presently, and thrust it into his shop through the chink of the door. Whatever we owe, it is our part to find where to pay it, and to do it without asking too; for whether the creditor be good or bad, the debt is still the same.
To match this scruple of receiving money with another of keeping it, and the sum not above three pence, or a groat at most. There was a certain Pythagorean that contracted with a cobbler for a pair of shoes. Some three or four days after, he went to pay him his money, but the shop was shut up. When he had knocked a great while at the door, a fellow said, "Friend, you may hammer your heart out there, for the man that you look for is dead. When our friends are dead, we hear no more news of them. But yours, that are to live again, will shift well enough" (alluding to Pythagora's transmigration). The philosopher went away with his money chinking in his hand, well enough content to save it. At last, his conscience took check at it. Upon reflection, he said, "Though the man be dead to others, he is alive to thee. Pay him what thou owest him." So he went back presently and thrust it into his shop through the chink of the door. Whatever we owe, it is our part to find where to pay it, and to do it without asking too. Whether the creditor be good or bad, the debt is still the same.
If a benefit be forced upon me, as from a tyrant, or a superior, where it may be dangerous to refuse, this is rather obeying than receiving, where the necessity destroys the choice. The way to know what I have a mind to do, is to leave me at liberty whether I will do it or not; but it is yet a benefit, if a man does me good in spite of my teeth; as it is none, if I do any man good against my will. A man may both hate and yet receive a benefit at the same time; the money is never the worse, because a fool that is not read in coins refuses to take it. If the thing be good for the receiver, and so intended, no matter how ill it is taken. Nay, the receiver may be obliged, and not know it; but there can be no benefit which is unknown to the giver. Neither will I, upon any terms, receive a benefit from a worthy person that may do him a mischief: it is the part of an enemy to save himself by doing another man harm.
If someone forces a benefit on me, like a tyrant or superior might do when it's dangerous to refuse, I'm really just obeying rather than receiving. The necessity destroys any real choice I have. The way to know what I truly want to do is to leave me free to choose whether I'll do it or not. But it's still a benefit if someone does me good despite my resistance. Just as it's no benefit if I help someone against my own will. A person can both hate someone and still receive a benefit from them at the same time. Money doesn't become worthless just because a fool who doesn't understand coins refuses to take it. If something is good for the person receiving it, and was meant to help them, it doesn't matter how badly they react to it. The receiver might even be helped without knowing it. But there can be no benefit that the giver doesn't know about. I will never accept a benefit from a good person if it might harm them. Only an enemy would save himself by hurting someone else.
But whatever we do, let us be sure always to keep a grateful mind. It is not enough to say, what requital shall a poor man offer to a prince; or a slave to his patron; when it is the glory of gratitude that it depends only upon the good will? Suppose a man defends my fame; delivers me from beggary; saves my life; or gives me liberty, that is more than life; how shall I be grateful to that man? I will receive, cherish, and rejoice in the benefit. Take it kindly, and it is requited: not that the debt itself is discharged, but it is nevertheless a discharge of the conscience. I will yet distinguish betwixt the debtor that becomes insolvent by expenses upon whores and dice, and another that is undone by fire or thieves; nor do I take this gratitude for a payment, but there is no danger, I presume, of being arrested for such a debt.
But whatever we do, let us always keep a grateful mind. It's not enough to ask what a poor man can offer a prince, or what a slave can give his master. The glory of gratitude depends only on good will. Suppose someone defends my reputation, saves me from poverty, saves my life, or gives me freedom that's worth more than life itself. How can I be grateful to that person? I will receive the benefit, cherish it, and rejoice in it. Accept it kindly, and it is repaid. The debt itself isn't discharged, but my conscience is clear. I can still tell the difference between a debtor who goes broke spending money on prostitutes and gambling, and another who loses everything to fire or thieves. I don't consider this gratitude a full payment, but there's no danger of being arrested for such a debt.
In the return of benefits let us be ready and cheerful but not pressing. There is as much greatness of mind in the owing of a good turn as in doing of it; and we must no more force a requital out of season than be wanting in it. He that precipitates a return, does as good as say, “I am weary of being in this man’s debt:” not but that the hastening of a requital, as a good office, is a commendable disposition, but it is another thing to do it as a discharge; for it looks like casting off a heavy and a troublesome burden. It is for the benefactor to say when he will receive it; no matter for the opinion of the world, so long as I gratify my own conscience; for I cannot be mistaken in myself, but another may. He that is over solicitous to return a benefit, thinks the other so likewise to receive it. If he had rather we should keep it, why should we refuse, and presume to dispose of his treasure, who may call it in, or let it lie out, at his choice? It is as much a fault to receive what I ought not, as not to give what I ought; for the giver has the privilege of choosing his own time of receiving.
When returning favors, we should be ready and cheerful but not pushy. There is as much nobility in owing someone a good deed as in doing one. We shouldn't force a repayment at the wrong time, but we also shouldn't fail to repay when appropriate. Someone who rushes to return a favor essentially says, "I'm tired of being in this person's debt." Now, hurrying to repay a favor can show a good attitude, but doing it just to get rid of an obligation is different. It looks like throwing off a heavy, troublesome burden. The person who helped you gets to decide when they want repayment. The world's opinion doesn't matter as long as I satisfy my own conscience. I can't be wrong about my own feelings, but someone else might misunderstand theirs. Someone who's too eager to return a favor assumes the other person is equally eager to receive it. If they'd rather we keep their gift, why should we refuse? Why should we presume to handle their treasure when they can call it in or let it remain as they choose? It's just as wrong to receive what I shouldn't as it is to fail giving what I should. The giver has the right to choose their own time for receiving repayment.
Some are too proud in the conferring of benefits; others, in the receiving of them; which is, to say the truth, intolerable. The same rule serves both sides, as in the case of a father and a son; a husband and a wife; one friend or acquaintance and another, where the duties are known and common. There are some that will not receive a benefit but in private, nor thank you for it but in your ear, or in a corner; there must be nothing under hand and seal, no brokers, notaries, or witnesses, in the case: that is not so much a scruple of modesty as a kind of denying the obligation, and only a less hardened ingratitude. Some receive benefits so coldly and indifferently, that a man would think the obligation lay on the other side: as who should say, “Well, since you will needs have it so, I am content to take it.” Some again so carelessly, as if they hardly knew of any such thing, whereas we should rather aggravate the matter: “You cannot imagine how many you have obliged in this act: there never was so great, so kind, so seasonable a courtesy.” Furnius never gained so much upon Augustus as by a speech, upon the getting of his father’s pardon for siding with Antony: “This grace,” says he, “is the only injury that ever Cæsar did me: for it has put me upon a necessity of living and dying ungrateful.” It is safer to affront some people than to oblige them; for the better a man deserves, the worse they will speak of him: as if the possessing of open hatred to their benefactors were an argument that they lie under no obligation. Some people are so sour and ill-natured, that they take it for an affront to have an obligation or a return offered them, to the discouragement both of bounty and gratitude together. The not doing, and the not receiving, of benefits, are equally a mistake. He that refuses a new one, seems to be offended at an old one: and yet sometimes I would neither return a benefit, no, nor so much as receive it, if I might.
Some people are too proud when giving benefits to others. Others are too proud when receiving them. Both attitudes are, frankly, unbearable. The same rule applies to both sides, whether we're talking about a father and son, husband and wife, or friends and acquaintances where the duties are well-known and shared. There are some who will only accept a benefit in private. They'll only thank you quietly, in your ear or in a corner. They want nothing official, no paperwork, no brokers, notaries, or witnesses involved. This isn't really modesty. It's a way of denying the obligation, just a softer form of ingratitude. Some people receive benefits so coldly and indifferently that you'd think they were doing you the favor. It's as if they're saying, "Well, since you insist, I suppose I'll take it." Others act so carelessly, as if they barely noticed anything happened. We should do the opposite and emphasize the importance: "You can't imagine how many people you've helped with this act. There was never such a great, kind, and perfectly timed courtesy." Furnius never impressed Augustus more than with a speech he gave when his father was pardoned for supporting Antony. "This grace," he said, "is the only injury Caesar ever did me. It has forced me to live and die ungrateful." Sometimes it's safer to offend certain people than to help them. The better you treat them, the worse they'll speak of you. It's as if openly hating their benefactors proves they owe nothing to anyone. Some people are so sour and ill-natured that they take it as an insult when someone offers them help or tries to return a favor. This discourages both generosity and gratitude. Not giving benefits and not receiving them are equally wrong. Someone who refuses a new favor seems offended by an old one. Yet sometimes I wouldn't return a benefit, or even accept one, if I had the choice.