It passes in the world for a generous and magnificent saying, that “it is a shame for a man to be outdone in courtesy;” and it is worth the while to examine, both the truth of it, and the mistake. First, there can be no shame in a virtuous emulation; and, secondly, there can be no victory without crossing the cudgels, and yielding the cause. One man may have the advantage of strength, of means, of fortune; and this will undoubtedly operate upon the events of good purposes, but yet without any diminution to the virtue. The good will may be the same in both, and yet one may have the heels of the other; for it is not in a good office as in a course, where he wins the plate that comes first to the post: and even there also, chance has many times a great hand in the success. Where the contest is about benefits; and that the one has not only a good will, but matter to work upon, and a power to put that good intent in execution; and the other has barely a good-will, without either the means, or the occasion, of a requital; if he does but affectionately wish it, and endeavor it, the latter is no more overcome in courtesy than he is in courage that dies with his sword in his hand, and his face to the enemy, and without shrinking maintains his station: for where fortune is partial, it is enough that the good-will is equal. There are two errors in this proposition: first, to imply that a good man may be overcome; and then to imagine that anything shameful can befall him. The Spartans prohibited all those exercises where the victory was declared by the confession of the contendant. The 300 Fabii were never said to be conquered, but slain; nor Regulus to be overcome, though he was taken prisoner by the Carthaginians. The mind may stand firm under the greatest malice and iniquity of fortune; and yet the giver and receiver continue upon equal terms: as we reckon it a drawn battle, when two combatants are parted, though the one has lost more blood than the other. He that knows how to owe a courtesy, and heartily wishes that he could requite it, is invincible; so that every man may be as grateful as he pleases. It is your happiness to give, it is my fortune that I can only receive. What advantage now has your chance over my virtue? But there are some men that have philosophized themselves almost out of the sense of human affections; as Diogenes, that walked naked and unconcerned through the middle of Alexander’s treasures, and was, as well in other men’s opinions as in his own, even above Alexander himself, who at that time had the whole world at his feet: for there was more that the one scorned to take than that the other had it in his power to give: and it is a greater generosity for a beggar to refuse money than for a prince to bestow it. This is a remarkable instance of an immovable mind, and there is hardly any contending with it; but a man is never the less valiant for being worsted by an invulnerable enemy; nor the fire one jot the weaker for not consuming an incombustible body; nor a sword ever a whit the worse for not cleaving a rock that is impenetrable; neither is a grateful mind overcome for want of an answerable fortune. No matter for the inequality of the things given and received, so long as, in point of good affection, the two parties stand upon the same level. It is no shame not to overtake a man, if we follow him as fast as we can. That tumor of a man, the vain-glorious Alexander, was used to make his boast, that never any man went beyond him in benefits; and yet he lived to see a poor fellow in a tub, to whom there was nothing that he could give, and from whom there was nothing that he could take away.
It passes in the world for a generous and magnificent saying that “it is a shame for a man to be outdone in courtesy.” It is worth examining both its truth and its mistake. First, there can be no shame in a virtuous rivalry. Second, there can be no victory without coming to blows and one side giving up the cause. One man may have the advantage of strength, of means, of fortune. This will undoubtedly affect how good intentions turn out, but without any lessening of virtue. The goodwill may be the same in both, and yet one may outrun the other. For a kind service is not like a race, where the prize goes to whoever reaches the post first. And even there, chance often has a great hand in success. Suppose the contest is about benefits. One man has not only goodwill, but the material to work with and the power to carry that good intent into action. The other has bare goodwill, without either the means or the occasion of repaying. If he only wishes it warmly and tries for it, he is no more beaten in courtesy than a man is beaten in courage who dies sword in hand, facing the enemy, holding his post without flinching. For where fortune is partial, it is enough that the goodwill is equal. There are two errors in this saying. First, it implies that a good man may be overcome. Second, it imagines that anything shameful can befall him. The Spartans banned all contests in which victory was declared by the loser’s own admission. The 300 Fabii were never said to be conquered, but slain. Nor was Regulus said to be overcome, though the Carthaginians took him prisoner. The mind may stand firm under the greatest malice and injustice of fortune, and still the giver and receiver remain on equal terms. In the same way we count it a drawn battle when two fighters are parted, though one has lost more blood than the other. He who knows how to owe a courtesy, and heartily wishes he could repay it, is invincible. So every man may be as grateful as he pleases. It is your happiness to give. It is my fortune that I can only receive. What advantage does your luck have now over my virtue? But some men have philosophized themselves almost out of all human feeling. Such was Diogenes, who walked naked and unconcerned through the middle of Alexander’s treasures. In other men’s opinion as well as his own, he was even above Alexander himself, who at that time had the whole world at his feet. For what Diogenes scorned to take was more than what Alexander had the power to give. And it is greater generosity for a beggar to refuse money than for a prince to give it. This is a remarkable example of an immovable mind, and there is hardly any contending with it. But a man is no less brave for being beaten by an enemy who cannot be wounded. Nor is fire one bit weaker for not consuming a body that cannot burn. Nor is a sword any worse for not splitting a rock that cannot be pierced. Nor is a grateful mind overcome for lack of a fortune to match. The inequality of what is given and received does not matter, as long as the two parties stand on the same level in good feeling. It is no shame not to overtake a man, if we follow him as fast as we can. That swollen creature, the vainglorious Alexander, used to boast that no man ever went beyond him in benefits. And yet he lived to see a poor fellow in a tub to whom he could give nothing, and from whom he could take nothing away.
Nor is it always necessary for a poor man to fly to the sanctuary of an invincible mind to quit scores with the bounties of a plentiful fortune; but it does often fall out, that the returns which he cannot make in kind are more than supplied in dignity and value. Archelaus, a king of Macedon, invited Socrates to his palace: but he excused himself, as unwilling to receive greater benefits than he was able to requite. This perhaps was not pride in Socrates, but craft; for he was afraid of being forced to accept of something which might possibly have been unworthy of him; beside, that he was a man of liberty, and loath to make himself a voluntary slave. The truth of it is, that Archelaus had more need of Socrates than Socrates of Archelaus; for he wanted a man to teach him the art of life and death, and the skill of government, and to read the book of Nature to him, and show him the light at noon-day: he wanted a man that, when the sun was in an eclipse, and he had locked himself up in all the horror and despair imaginable; he wanted a man, I say, to deliver him from his apprehensions, and to expound the prodigy to him, by telling him, that there was no more in it than only that the moon was got betwixt the sun and the earth, and all would be well again presently. Let the world judge now, whether Archelaus’ bounty, or Socrates’ philosophy, would have been the greater present: he does not understand the value of wisdom and friendship that does not know a wise friend to be the noblest of presents. A rarity scarce to be found, not only in a family, but in an age; and nowhere more wanted than where there seems to be the greatest store. The greater a man is, the more need he has of him; and the more difficulty there is both of finding and of knowing him. Nor is it to be said, that “I cannot requite such a benefactor because I am poor, and have it not;” I can give good counsel; a conversation wherein he may take both delight and profit; freedom of discourse, without flattery; kind attention, where he deliberates; and faith inviolable where he trusts; I may bring him to a love and knowledge of truth; deliver him from the errors of his credulity, and teach him to distinguish betwixt friends and parasites.
Nor is it always necessary for a poor man to fly to the sanctuary of an invincible mind to settle accounts with the bounty of a rich fortune. It often happens that the returns he cannot make in kind are more than made up in dignity and value. Archelaus, a king of Macedon, invited Socrates to his palace. But Socrates excused himself, as unwilling to receive greater benefits than he could repay. This was perhaps not pride in Socrates, but cunning. He was afraid of being forced to accept something that might have been unworthy of him. Besides, he was a man of liberty, and unwilling to make himself a voluntary slave. The truth is that Archelaus had more need of Socrates than Socrates of Archelaus. He needed a man to teach him the art of life and death and the skill of government. He needed someone to read the book of Nature to him and show him the light at noonday. Suppose the sun was in eclipse, and he had locked himself up in all the horror and despair imaginable. He needed a man, I say, to free him from his fears and explain the omen to him. That man would tell him there was nothing more in it than the moon passing between the sun and the earth, and all would soon be well again. Let the world judge now whether Archelaus’ bounty or Socrates’ philosophy would have been the greater gift. He does not understand the value of wisdom and friendship who does not know that a wise friend is the noblest of presents. Such a friend is a rarity hardly to be found, not only in a family, but in an age. And he is nowhere more needed than where there seems to be the greatest plenty. The greater a man is, the more he needs such a friend, and the harder it is both to find and to recognize him. Nor can it be said, “I cannot repay such a benefactor because I am poor and have nothing.” I can give good counsel. I can give conversation in which he may find both delight and profit. I can give free speech without flattery, kind attention when he deliberates, and unbroken faith when he trusts me. I may bring him to love and know the truth. I may free him from the errors of his credulity, and teach him to tell friends from parasites.