On Benefits by Seneca (Updated Translation)

Book Summary

Seneca's "On Benefits" (De Beneficiis) stands as one of antiquity's most comprehensive examinations of gratitude, gift-giving, and social relationships. Written around 62 AD, this philosophical work explores not just the mechanics of giving and receiving, but the deeper moral and social implications of benefits and obligations in human society.

Throughout the work's seven books, Seneca examines what constitutes a true benefit, arguing that the intention behind a gift matters more than the gift itself. He emphasizes that a benefit is not merely the thing given, but the benevolent intention of the giver. This distinction becomes crucial as he explores how benefits create social bonds and moral obligations between people.

Seneca devotes considerable attention to the proper way of giving benefits. He argues that gifts should be given with careful consideration of the recipient's needs and character, not merely their social status or potential for reciprocation. The timing, manner, and discretion of giving are all crucial elements that determine whether a benefit truly serves its purpose of creating genuine social bonds.

On Benefits (Modern, Updated Translation)

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The philosopher also explores the complexities of receiving benefits, arguing that accepting gifts graciously is as important as giving them properly. He criticizes those who receive benefits grudgingly or who immediately seek to discharge their obligation, arguing that true gratitude involves maintaining a lasting appreciation for both the gift and the giver's goodwill.

A significant portion of the work addresses the problem of ingratitude, which Seneca considers one of society's greatest vices. He examines various forms of ingratitude, from simple forgetfulness to active denial of benefits received, and explores why people often fail to appreciate or acknowledge the good done to them. However, he argues against making ingratitude a legal crime, suggesting that social and moral sanctions are more appropriate responses.

Seneca provides practical guidance on navigating complex social situations involving benefits. He discusses how to handle rejected gifts, when to remind others of benefits given, and how to maintain dignity when asking for help. His advice reveals a sophisticated understanding of human psychology and social dynamics, particularly regarding pride, shame, and obligation.

The work also explores the relationship between benefits and friendship. Seneca argues that true friendship involves a continuous exchange of benefits, both material and spiritual, but warns against reducing friendship to mere transaction. He emphasizes that genuine benefits strengthen social bonds rather than creating burdensome obligations.

In discussing the broader social implications of benefits, Seneca examines how proper giving and receiving contribute to social harmony. He argues that benefits create a web of mutual obligations that bind society together, making them crucial for maintaining social cohesion and political stability.

The philosopher addresses the question of whether slaves can give benefits to their masters, arguing controversially for his time that they can. This discussion reveals Seneca's more egalitarian views on human nature and moral capacity, suggesting that the ability to give and receive benefits transcends social status.

"On Benefits" concludes with reflections on divine benefits and humanity's relationship with the gods. Seneca argues that despite human ingratitude, the gods continue to bestow benefits on all people, providing a model for human generosity and forgiveness.

Throughout the work, Seneca weaves together philosophical argument, practical advice, and vivid examples from Roman history and daily life. His analysis reveals the complexity of human relationships and the crucial role that benefits play in maintaining social bonds and promoting moral development.

The enduring relevance of "On Benefits" lies in its deep understanding of human nature and social relationships. Its insights into gratitude, generosity, and social obligation continue to resonate in modern discussions of gift-giving, social reciprocity, and moral psychology.

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Book 1

1. Among the many faults of those who live recklessly and without thinking, my good friend Liberalis, I would say that there's hardly any fault more harmful to society than this: we neither know how to give nor how to receive a benefit. This leads to benefits being poorly invested and becoming bad debts. In these cases, it's too late to complain about them not being returned because they were wasted when we gave them. It's no surprise that while the greatest vices are common, none is more common than ingratitude. I see this is caused by various reasons. The first is that we don't choose worthy people to give our help to. Although when we are about to lend money, we first carefully check the means and habits of our debtor and avoid sowing seed in worn-out or unfruitful soil, yet we scatter our benefits randomly rather than bestow them thoughtfully. It's hard to say whether it's more dishonorable for the receiver to deny a benefit or for the giver to demand it back. A benefit is a loan, the repayment of which depends merely on the good feeling of the debtor. To misuse a benefit like a spendthrift is most shameful because we don't need our wealth but only our intention to free us from the obligation of it; for a benefit is repaid by being acknowledged. Yet while those who don't even show enough gratitude to acknowledge their debt are to blame, we ourselves are no less to blame. We find many people ungrateful, yet we make more people so because sometimes we harshly and reproachfully demand something in return for our help, other times we are fickle and regret what we have given, and other times we are peevish and quick to find fault with small things. By acting this way, we destroy all sense of gratitude, not only after we have given something but while we are in the act of giving it. Who has ever thought it enough to be asked for something in an off-hand manner or to be asked only once? Who, when suspecting they were going to be asked for something, hasn't frowned, turned away their face, pretended to be busy, or purposely talked without stopping to avoid giving their friend a chance to ask for help, and avoided by various tricks having to help their friend in need? And when cornered, hasn't either put the matter off, which is a cowardly refusal, or promised help ungraciously, with a wry face, and with unkind words they seemed to grudge saying? Yet no one is glad to owe what they haven't so much received from their benefactor as wrung out of them. Who can be grateful for what has been disdainfully thrown to them, or angrily cast at them, or given out of weariness to avoid further trouble? No one should expect any return from those they have tired out with delays or sickened with expectation. A benefit is received in the same spirit in which it is given and shouldn't, therefore, be given carelessly, for a person thanks themselves for what they receive without the giver's knowledge. Neither should we give after long delay because in all good deeds the will of the giver counts for much, and someone who gives tardily must have long been unwilling to give at all. Nor, certainly, should we give in an offensive manner because human nature is such that insults sink deeper than kindnesses; the memory of the latter soon fades, while that of the former is treasured in memory. So what can a person expect who insults while helping? All the gratitude they deserve is to be forgiven for helping us. On the other hand, the number of the ungrateful shouldn't deter us from earning people's gratitude; for, firstly, their number is increased by our own actions. Secondly, the sacrilege and indifference to religion of some people don't stop even the immortal gods from continuing to shower their benefits upon us: for they act according to their divine nature and help all alike, including those who poorly appreciate their generosity. Let us take them as our guides as far as our mortal nature allows; let us give benefits, not put them out at interest. The person who, while giving, thinks of what they will get in return deserves to be deceived. But what if the benefit turns out poorly? Why, our spouses and children often disappoint our hopes, yet we marry and raise children, and are so stubborn in the face of experience that we fight after being beaten and set sail after being shipwrecked. How much more persistence should we show in giving benefits! If a person doesn't give benefits because they haven't received any, they must have given them to receive them in return, and they justify ingratitude, whose disgrace lies in not returning benefits when able to do so. How many are there who are unworthy of the light of day? And yet the sun rises. How many complain because they were born? Yet Nature is ever renewing our race and even allows people to live who wish they had never lived. It is the mark of a great and good mind to desire not the reward of good deeds but good deeds themselves and to seek a good person even after encountering bad ones. If there were no rogues, what glory would there be in doing good to many? As it is, virtue consists in giving benefits without being certain of receiving any return, but whose reward is immediately enjoyed by noble minds. This should have so little influence in stopping us from doing good actions that even if I were denied the hope of meeting a grateful person, the fear of not having my benefits returned wouldn't stop me from giving them because the person who doesn't give anticipates the vice of the ungrateful person. I will explain what I mean. The person who doesn't repay a benefit sins more, but the person who doesn't give one sins earlier.

"If you carelessly give away your gifts, many will be wasted, for one that's well given."

2. In the first part, you can criticize two things: you shouldn't give benefits carelessly, and it's not right to waste anything, especially benefits. If benefits aren't given thoughtfully, they stop being benefits and can be called anything else. The meaning of the second part is excellent: one benefit given properly can make up for many that were wasted. Consider if it's not more true and fitting for the giver's honor that we should encourage him to give, even if none of his gifts are well-received. "Much must be lost." Nothing is truly lost because the giver knew the cost beforehand. The accounting of benefits is simple: it's all about giving; if someone returns it, that's a bonus; if not, it's not lost because I gave it for the joy of giving. No one records their gifts like a creditor demanding repayment on a specific day. A good person doesn't think about such things unless reminded by someone returning their gifts; otherwise, they become like debts owed to him. It's a lowly practice to see a benefit as an investment. Regardless of what happened with your past benefits, keep giving to others; they might be better appreciated by the ungrateful, who might one day be grateful due to shame, a good opportunity, or by following others. Don't get tired, do your duty, and act like a good person. Help one person with money, another with credit, another with your support; this person with good advice, that one with wise sayings. Even wild animals respond to kindness, and there's no creature so fierce that good treatment won't tame it and earn its affection. Lion keepers can handle their mouths safely; fierce elephants become as obedient as servants to get their food. Constant, unending kindness wins over even creatures who naturally can't understand or appreciate the value of a benefit. Is someone ungrateful for one benefit? Maybe they won't be after a second. Have they forgotten two acts of kindness? Maybe a third will help them remember the earlier ones too.

3. If someone quickly believes they've wasted their gifts, they truly do waste them. But if they continue giving and add new gifts to the old ones, they can bring out gratitude even from someone who is ungrateful or forgetful. When faced with many acts of kindness, your friend won't dare to look away; let them see your generosity wherever they turn. Surround them with your gifts. I'll explain the power and nature of these gifts if you first let me briefly discuss something unrelated: why the Graces are three in number, why they are sisters, why they hold hands, and why they are young and smiling, wearing loose and see-through dresses. Some say one Grace gives a gift, another receives it, and the third returns it. Others say they represent three types of benefactors: those who give, those who repay, and those who both receive and repay. But whichever you believe, how does this help us? What does this dance of sisters holding hands mean? It shows that a gift moves from hand to hand, back to the giver; the beauty of the whole chain is lost if one link breaks, and it's most beautiful when it flows smoothly. In the dance, one is more esteemed than the others, representing the givers of gifts. Their faces are cheerful, like those who give or receive gifts. They are young because the memory of gifts shouldn't age. They are virgins because gifts are pure and respected by all; there should be no strict conditions with gifts, so the Graces wear loose, flowing dresses that are see-through because gifts like to be seen. People unfamiliar with Greek literature might say this is obvious, but no one would think that the names Hesiod gave them relate to our topic. He named the eldest Aglaia, the middle one Euphrosyne, and the third Thalia. Everyone tries to interpret these names to fit their ideas, even though Hesiod just named them from his imagination. Homer even changed one of their names to Pasithea and gave her a husband, showing they aren't vowed to chastity.

I could find another poet, in whose writings they are dressed in thick or embroidered Phrygian robes. Mercury is with them for the same reason, not because argument or eloquence praises benefits, but because the painter chose to do so. Also, Chrysippus, that man of sharp intellect who understood the truth deeply, who speaks directly and uses only as many words as needed to express his meaning, fills his entire treatise with these trivialities. He says very little about the duties of giving, receiving, and returning a benefit, and instead of inserting fables among these subjects, he has inserted these subjects among a mass of fables. For, not to mention what Hecaton borrows from him, Chrysippus tells us that the three Graces are the daughters of Jupiter and Eurynome, that they are younger than the Hours, and slightly more beautiful, and that for this reason, they are companions to Venus. He also thinks that the name of their mother is relevant, and that she is named Eurynome because distributing benefits requires a wide inheritance; as if the mother usually gets her name after her daughters, or as if the names given by poets were true. In reality, just as with a 'nomenclator' where boldness replaces memory, and he invents a name for anyone whose name he cannot remember, poets think it is unimportant to speak the truth, but are either forced by the needs of metre or attracted by the sweetness of sound, into calling everyone by whatever name fits neatly into verse. Nor do they suffer for it if they introduce another name into the list, for the next poet makes them bear whatever name he pleases. To show that this is true, for instance, Thalia, our current subject of discussion, is one of the Graces in Hesiod's poems, while in Homer's poems she is one of the Muses.

4. But to avoid doing what I'm criticizing, I'll skip over all these unrelated topics. Just support me if anyone criticizes me for critiquing Chrysippus, who was indeed a great man, but still a Greek, whose sharp intellect often turns back on itself; even when it seems serious, it only pokes but doesn't penetrate. Here, though, why be so subtle? We need to talk about benefits and define something that is the main bond of human society. We need to establish a way of life where careless generosity doesn't disguise itself as kindness, and where our caution doesn't extinguish our generosity, a quality we should neither overdo nor neglect. People must learn to be willing to give, willing to receive, and willing to repay; aiming not just to match but to surpass those they owe, both in actions and in feelings. Because the person who needs to repay can never truly do so unless they surpass their benefactor. The givers should expect nothing in return, and the receivers should feel deeper gratitude. In this noble contest of outdoing benefits with benefits, Chrysippus encourages us by warning us not to act ungratefully, as it might offend the Graces, the daughters of Jupiter, and wrong those beautiful maidens. Teach me how to give more generously and be more grateful to those who deserve it, and how both parties can compete with each other—the giver in forgetting, the receiver in remembering their debt. Leave those other trivialities to the poets, whose goal is just to entertain and tell a pleasing story. But those who want to purify minds, maintain honor in their actions, and instill gratitude for kindnesses should speak seriously and act with all their strength. Unless you think, perhaps, that with such trivial and mythical talk, and such old wives' reasoning, we can prevent the most disastrous outcome: the rejection of benefits.

5. While I skip over what's pointless and irrelevant, I need to point out that the first thing we need to learn is what we owe in return for a benefit received. One person might say they owe the money they received, another might say they owe a political position, a religious role, a province, and so on. However, these are just the outward signs of kindness, not the kindness itself. A benefit isn't something you can touch or hold; it exists only in the mind. There's a big difference between the physical part of a benefit and the benefit itself. Therefore, neither gold, silver, nor any of those things we highly value are benefits; the benefit lies in the goodwill of the giver. Ignorant people only notice what's in front of their eyes and what can be owned and passed around, while they ignore what gives these things their value. The things we hold in our hands, see with our eyes, and greedily cling to are temporary; they can be taken from us by bad luck or force. But a kindness lasts even after the loss of what was used to give it; it's a good deed that no force can undo. For example, if I ransomed a friend from pirates, but another pirate captures him and throws him into prison, the pirate hasn't taken away my benefit, just the enjoyment of it. Or if I saved someone's children from a shipwreck or fire, and later disease or an accident takes them away, even when they're gone, the kindness done through them remains. All those things that wrongly take the name of benefits are just ways that kind feelings show themselves. In other cases, too, we find a difference between the visible symbol and the actual thing, like when a general gives out gold collars or civic or mural crowns to someone. What value does the crown have by itself? Or the purple-bordered robe? Or the fasces? Or the judgment seat and triumphal car? None of these things is an honor by itself; they're symbols of honor. Similarly, what you see isn't a benefit—it's just the trace and mark of a benefit.

6. So, what is a benefit? It's the act of doing something kind that brings joy both to the giver and the receiver, and it happens naturally and willingly. It's not about what is done or given, but the intention behind it that matters, because a benefit lies in the mindset of the giver. You can see the difference because a benefit is always good, but what is done or given can be neither good nor bad. The intention can make small things important, make simple things special, and make big and valuable things seem less important. The things themselves are neutral, neither good nor bad; everything depends on the intention that shapes them. What is given or handed over isn't the benefit itself, just like the honor we give to the gods isn't in the offerings, even if they are rich and decorated with gold, but in the pure and sincere feelings of the worshippers.

Good people are religious, even if their offering is just meal and their containers are made of clay. Meanwhile, bad people won't escape their impiety, even if they pour the blood of many sacrifices on the altars.

7. If benefits were just about the things themselves and not about the intention to help, then the more things we received, the greater the benefit would be. But that's not true. Sometimes we feel more gratitude towards someone who gives us small things generously, like Virgil's poor old soldier who "feels as rich as kings," if he gives even a little with a good heart. This is someone who forgets his own needs when he sees mine, who not only wants but longs to help, who feels like he's receiving a benefit when he gives one, who gives as if expecting nothing in return, and accepts repayment as if he originally gave nothing, and who looks for and seizes the chance to be helpful. On the other hand, as I mentioned before, those gifts that are given reluctantly or carelessly don't earn our gratitude, no matter how big they might seem. We value much more what comes from a willing hand than what comes from a full one. This person has given me little, but he couldn't afford more, while what the other person gave is a lot, but he hesitated, delayed, complained when he gave it, gave it arrogantly, or announced it loudly, doing it to impress others, not to please the person he gave it to; he offered it to his own pride, not to me.

8. As the students of Socrates, each according to their means, gave him large gifts, Aeschines, a poor student, said, "I can find nothing to give you which is worthy of you; I feel my poverty in this respect alone. Therefore I present you with the only thing I possess, myself. I pray that you may take this my present, such as it is, in good part, and may remember that the others, although they gave you much, yet left for themselves more than they gave." Socrates answered, "Surely you have given me a great gift, unless perhaps you think little of yourself. I will accordingly take care to return you to yourself a better person than when I received you." With this gift, Aeschines surpassed Alcibiades, whose mind was as great as his wealth, and all the splendor of the wealthiest young men of Athens.

9. You see how the mind, even in the toughest situations, finds ways to be generous. Aeschines seems to have said, "Fortune, it's pointless that you've made me poor; despite this, I will find a worthy gift for this man. Since I can't give him anything of yours, I'll give him something of my own." And don't think he undervalued himself; he made himself his own worth. With a clever idea, this young man found a way to give Socrates to himself. We shouldn't focus on how big the gifts are, but on the spirit in which they are given.

A rich man is praised if he is smart enough to make himself approachable to overly ambitious people, and even if he doesn't plan to help them, he still encourages their unrealistic hopes. However, he is thought poorly of if he is rude, unfriendly, and shows off his wealth in a way that makes others jealous. People respect but also dislike a successful person, and they hate him for doing what they would do themselves if they had the opportunity.

Men today no longer secretly, but openly disrespect the wives of others and allow others access to their own wives. A marriage is considered old-fashioned, uncivilized, and in poor taste, and all women protest if the husband forbids his wife to appear in public in a carriage, being carried around for everyone to see. If a man hasn't made himself known by an affair with a mistress, or if he doesn't pay an allowance to someone else's wife, married women call him a weak person, someone who indulges in lowly behavior, a lover of servant girls. Soon, adultery becomes the most respectable form of marriage, and widowhood and being single are commonly practiced. No one marries a woman unless he takes her from someone else. Now men compete with each other in wasting what they have stolen and in greedily gathering what they have wasted; they become completely reckless, look down on poverty in others, fear personal harm more than anything else, disrupt peace with their riots, and through violence and fear, dominate those who are weaker than themselves. No wonder they plunder provinces and sell the seat of judgment to the highest bidder, since it is the law of nations that you may sell what you have bought.

10. However, my enthusiasm has carried me further than I intended, the subject being an inviting one. Let me, then, end by pointing out that the disgrace of these crimes does not belong especially to our own time. Our ancestors before us have lamented, and our children after us will lament, as we do, the ruin of morality, the prevalence of vice, and the gradual deterioration of humanity; yet these things are really stationary, only moving slightly back and forth like the waves which at one time a rising tide washes further over the land, and at another an ebbing one restrains within a lower water mark. At one time the main vice will be adultery, and licentiousness will exceed all bounds; at another time a craze for feasting will be in vogue, and people will waste their inheritance in the most shameful of all ways, by the kitchen; at another, excessive care for the body, and a devotion to personal beauty which implies ugliness of mind; at another time, unwisely granted liberty will show itself in reckless behavior and defiance of authority; sometimes there will be a reign of cruelty both in public and private, and the madness of civil wars will come upon us, which destroy all that is holy and inviolable. Sometimes even drunkenness will be held in honor, and it will be a virtue to drink the most wine. Vices do not lie in wait for us in one place alone, but hover around us in changeable forms, sometimes even at odds with one another, so that in turn they win and lose the field; yet we shall always be obliged to pronounce the same verdict upon ourselves, that we are and always were evil, and, I unwillingly add, that we always shall be. There always will be murderers, tyrants, thieves, adulterers, rapists, sacrilegious people, traitors: worse than all these is the ungrateful person, except we consider that all these crimes flow from ingratitude, without which hardly any great wickedness has ever grown to full stature. Be sure that you guard against this as the greatest of crimes in yourself, but pardon it as the least of crimes in another. For all the injury which you suffer is this: you have lost the subject-matter of a benefit, not the benefit itself, for you possess unimpaired the best part of it, in that you have given it. Though we ought to be careful to bestow our benefits by preference upon those who are likely to show us gratitude for them, yet we must sometimes do what we have little hope will turn out well, and bestow benefits upon those who we not only think will prove ungrateful, but who we know have been so. For instance, if I should be able to save a man's children from a great danger with no risk to myself, I should not hesitate to do so. If a man be worthy I would defend him even with my blood, and would share his perils; if he be unworthy, and yet by merely crying for help I can rescue him from robbers, I would without reluctance raise the shout which would save a fellow-creature.

11. The next thing to figure out is what kind of benefits should be given and how. First, let's give what's necessary, then what's useful, and finally what's pleasant, as long as they last. We should start with what's necessary because things that support life affect us differently than things that just make life better. A person can be picky about things they don't really need, things they can say, "Take them back; I don't want them, I'm happy with what I have." Sometimes, we not only want to return what we've received but even get rid of it. Of necessary things, the first group includes things we can't live without; the second, things we shouldn't live without; and the third, things without which life wouldn't be worth living. The first group includes being saved from enemies, tyrants' anger, being outlawed, and other dangers in life. By preventing any of these, we'll earn gratitude based on how big the danger was because when people think about the misery they avoided, the fear they felt makes our help seem even more valuable. However, we shouldn't delay helping someone just to make their fear make our help seem more important. Next are things we can live without, but life would be so bad it might be better to die, like freedom, purity, or a clear conscience. After these are things we've grown to love through connection, relationships, and long use, like our spouses and children, our household gods, and so on, which we become so attached to that losing them seems worse than death.

After these come useful things, which cover a wide and varied range; this includes money, not too much, but enough for living in a moderate way; public office, and for those who are ambitious, proper advancement to higher positions; because nothing can be more useful to a person than being in a position where they can benefit themselves. All benefits beyond these are unnecessary and might spoil those who receive them. When giving these, we must be careful to make them well-received by giving them at the right time, or by giving things that are not common, but such as few people have, or at least few have in our times; or by giving things in such a way that, even if they are not naturally valuable, they become so by the time and place they are given. We must think about what gift will bring the most pleasure, what will be noticed most often by the person who has it, so that whenever they are with it, they may think of us too; and in all cases, we must be careful not to send useless gifts, like hunting weapons to a woman or old man, or books to someone from the countryside, or nets to catch wild animals to a quiet literary person. On the other hand, we should be careful, while trying to send something that will please, not to send something that will insultingly remind our friends of their weaknesses, like sending wine to a heavy drinker or medicine to someone who is sick, because a gift that hints at the receiver's shortcomings becomes an insult.

12. If we can choose what to give, we should pick gifts that last a long time, so our gift stays around as long as possible. Few people are grateful enough to remember what they got if they don't see it. Even ungrateful people remember us by our gifts when they see them often, as these gifts keep reminding them of the giver. Since we should never remind people of what we've given them, we should choose gifts that last; the gifts themselves will help keep the giver's memory alive. I'd rather give a gift of silverware than money, and I'd prefer to give statues over clothes or other things that wear out quickly. Few people stay grateful after the gift is gone; many only remember their gifts while they're using them. If possible, I'd like my gift not to be used up; let it stay around, let it be part of my friend's life. No one is so silly as to need to be told not to send gladiators or wild animals to someone who just hosted a public show, or not to send summer clothes in winter or winter clothes in summer. Common sense should guide our gifts; we must think about the time, place, and character of the receiver, which are the factors that make our gifts well or poorly received. A gift is much more appreciated if we give someone what they don't have, rather than what they have plenty of! If we give them something they've been searching for in vain, rather than something they see everywhere! Let's give things that are rare and scarce rather than expensive, things even a rich person would be happy to have, just like common fruits that please us if they ripen before the usual season. People will also value things that no one else has given them, or that we haven't given to anyone else.

13. When the conquest of the East made Alexander of Macedon believe he was more than just a man, the people of Corinth sent a group to congratulate him and offered him citizenship in their city. When Alexander smiled at this gesture, one of the representatives said, "We have never enrolled any stranger among our citizens except Hercules and yourself." Alexander gladly accepted the honor, invited the representatives to dine with him, and treated them well. He didn't think about who offered the citizenship, but about who it was given to; being completely obsessed with glory, even though he didn't truly understand it, he followed in the footsteps of Hercules and Bacchus, and didn't even stop where they did. He looked past the ones giving the honor to focus on being compared to Hercules, and imagined that the heaven his vanity aimed for was opening up to him when he was made equal to Hercules. In what way did that reckless young man, whose only merit was his bold luck, resemble Hercules? Hercules conquered nothing for himself; he traveled the world, not seeking anything for himself but freeing the lands he conquered, an enemy to bad people, a defender of the good, and a peacemaker both by sea and land. Meanwhile, the other was a bandit and destroyer of nations from his youth, a curse to both friends and enemies, whose greatest joy was being feared by everyone, forgetting that people fear not only the fiercest but also the most cowardly animals because of their evil and poisonous nature.

14. Let's get back to our topic. When someone gives a gift without thinking, it doesn't make anyone happy. Nobody feels they owe anything to the owner of a bar or feels like a special guest when dining with someone who treats everyone the same. They might think, "What special treatment did I get? None, just like that guy he barely knows or that other guy who's his enemy and has a bad reputation. Do you think he wanted to honor me? No, he just wanted to show off his habit of being wasteful." If you want people to appreciate something, give it rarely; nobody likes receiving what everyone else gets. But don't think I'm trying to limit generosity; let it be as generous as it wants, as long as it's thoughtful and not random. You can give gifts in a way that makes each person feel special, even if many others receive them too. Each gift should have something unique that makes the person feel more valued than others. They might say, "I got the same gift as him, but I didn't ask for it." "I got the same gift, but mine came quickly, while he had to work for it for a long time." "Others got the same gift, but it wasn't given to them with the same kindness and nice words as it was to me." "That person got it because they asked; I didn't ask." "That person received it too, but they can easily give it back; people expect a lot from a rich, old, childless person like him. Giving the same gift to me was more generous because he didn't expect anything in return." Just like a courtesan shares her affection with many men, making each feel special, someone who wants their gifts to be valued should think about how to please many people while giving each one a special touch to make them feel unique.

15. I'm not suggesting we should be lazy in giving benefits: the more and the bigger they are, the more praise the giver will receive. However, they should be given wisely; because what is given carelessly and recklessly won't please anyone. So, if anyone thinks that by giving this advice I want to limit generosity and make it smaller, they completely misunderstand my point. What virtue do we admire more than kindness? Which do we encourage more? Who should support it more than we Stoics, who talk about the brotherhood of humanity? So, what is it? Since no action of the human mind can be approved, even if it comes from a good feeling, unless it's turned into a virtue by being wise, I say generosity shouldn't turn into wastefulness. It's nice to receive a benefit with open arms when reason gives it to someone deserving, not when it's thrown around carelessly and randomly; this alone we want to show off and claim as our own. Can you call something a benefit if you're embarrassed to mention who gave it to you? How much more appreciated is a benefit, how much more does it stick in our minds, never to be forgotten, when we are happy to think not so much of what it is, but who we got it from! Crispus Passienus used to say that some people's advice is better than their gifts, and some people's gifts are better than their advice; and he added as an example, "I would rather have received advice from Augustus than a gift; I would rather receive a gift from Claudius than advice." However, I think we shouldn't want a benefit from someone whose judgment is poor. What then? Shouldn't we accept what Claudius gives? We should; but we should see it as something from fortune, which can change at any moment. Why do we separate what naturally goes together? It's not a benefit if it's missing the best part of a benefit, which is being given with good judgment: a really large sum of money, if given without discernment or goodwill, is no more a benefit than if it stayed saved up. There are, however, many things we shouldn't reject, yet for which we can't feel grateful.

Book 2

1. Let's think about, most excellent Liberalis, what still needs to be discussed about the earlier part of the topic: how a benefit should be given. I believe I can show the simplest way to do this: let's give in the way we would like to receive. Above all, we should give willingly, quickly, and without hesitation; a benefit doesn't earn gratitude if it has lingered too long with the giver, if he seems reluctant to part with it, and gives it as if he were being forced to. Even if there is some delay, we should do everything we can to avoid appearing as if we were unsure about giving it at all. Hesitating is almost like refusing to give, and it ruins any claim to gratitude. Just as the nicest part of a benefit is the goodwill of the giver, it follows that someone who has shown by their delay that they give unwillingly must be seen not as having given anything, but as having been unable to keep it from a persistent requester. In fact, many people become generous because they lack firmness. The most welcome benefits are those that are ready for us to take, which are easy to receive, and offer themselves to us, so that the only delay is caused by the modesty of the receiver. The best thing of all is to anticipate a person's wishes; the next best is to follow them. The first is the better approach, to be ahead of our friends by giving them what they want before they ask us for it, because the value of a gift is greatly increased by sparing an honest person the embarrassment of asking for it with confusion and blushes. Someone who gets what they asked for doesn't get it for free, because indeed, as our strict ancestors believed, nothing is as costly as what is obtained through prayers. People would be much more modest in their requests to heaven if these had to be made publicly; so that even when addressing the gods, before whom we can respectfully kneel, we prefer to pray silently and within ourselves.

2. It's unpleasant, burdensome, and embarrassing to have to say, "Give me." You should spare your friends, and those you want to be friends with, from having to do this; no matter how quick he is, a person gives too late if he gives only after being asked. We should, therefore, try to understand everyone's wishes, and once we know them, free them from the tough necessity of asking; you can be sure that a benefit given without being asked for will be delightful and memorable. If we can't manage to anticipate our friends' needs, at least let's cut them short when they ask us for anything, so it seems like we remembered what we intended to do, rather than being asked to do it. Let's agree right away, and with our quickness, make it seem like we intended to do so even before being asked. Just like with sick people, timing is crucial for when food is given, and even plain water given at the right moment can act as a remedy, a benefit, no matter how small and ordinary, if given promptly without delay, becomes much more significant and earns our gratitude more than a much more valuable gift given after a long wait and consideration. Someone who gives so readily must give with goodwill; he, therefore, gives cheerfully and shows his good nature in his expression.

3. Many people who give huge benefits ruin them by being silent or slow to speak, which makes them seem unfriendly, as they say "yes" with a face that looks like it's saying "no." How much better it is to add kind words to kind actions and to increase the value of our gifts with a polite and gracious compliment! To help your friend feel more comfortable asking you for a favor, you might add a friendly remark to your gift, like, "I'm upset with you for not letting me know what you wanted sooner, for asking so formally, or for involving a third party." "I'm glad you decided to test me; in the future, if you need anything, ask for it as your right; however, this time I forgive your lack of manners." By doing this, you will make him value your friendship more than whatever it was he came to ask of you. The goodness and kindness of a benefactor never seem as great as when, upon leaving, one says, "I have gained much today; I am more pleased at finding him so kind than if I had obtained many times more of this, of which I was speaking, by some other means; I can never repay this man adequately for his goodness."

4. Many people make their acts of kindness unpleasant by using harsh words and a disrespectful attitude. By speaking and acting disdainfully, they make us regret that they granted our requests. There are also various delays after we have been promised something, and nothing is more frustrating than having to beg for something that was already promised to us. Benefits should be given immediately, but with some people, it's easier to get a promise than to actually receive what was promised. One person has to be asked to remind the benefactor of their promise; another has to be asked to make it happen. In this way, a single gift gets diminished as it passes through many hands, leaving hardly any gratitude for the original promiser. Whoever we have to ask after the promise is made receives some of the gratitude that should go to the giver. So, if you want your gifts to be appreciated, make sure they reach those they are promised to in full, as the saying goes, without any deductions. Let no one intercept or delay them, because anyone who takes a share of the gratitude for your gifts is taking it away from you.

5. Nothing is more frustrating than long uncertainty; some people can handle having their hopes crushed better than having them delayed. Yet many people, driven by a shallow vanity, fall into the habit of postponing their promises, just to increase the number of people seeking their favor, like royal officials who enjoy showing off their arrogance, hardly feeling powerful unless they make everyone wait to see how powerful they are. They never do anything quickly or all at once; they are quick to cause harm but slow to do good. The comic poet speaks the absolute truth in the verses:

"Don't you know this? If you delay your gifts, you take away my gratitude."

And the following lines express the pain of virtue—a strong-willed person's suffering—

"What you do, do quickly."

and:

"Nothing in the world is worth this trouble; I would rather you refuse it to me now."

When the mind starts to get tired and begins to dislike the promised benefit, or while it's uncertain and waiting for it, how can it feel thankful for it? Just like the most refined cruelty is the kind that drags out the torture, while killing the victim quickly is a kind of mercy, since the worst part of torture is the waiting—so the shorter the time a benefit is uncertain, the more thankful the receiver is. It's possible to look forward with anxious worry even to good things, and since most benefits involve freeing someone from some kind of misery, a person ruins the value of the benefit they give if they have the power to help us but still let us suffer or miss out on happiness longer than necessary. Kindness is always eager to do good, and someone who acts out of love acts quickly; someone who helps us but does so slowly and with long delays doesn't do it sincerely. Thus, they lose two important things: time and the proof of their goodwill towards us; because a delayed agreement is just another way of saying no.

6. The way things are said or done, my Liberalis, is a very important part of every action. We gain a lot by being quick, and lose a lot by being slow. Just like in throwing darts, the strength of the iron tip stays the same, but there's a huge difference between one thrown with full force and one that just falls from the hand. The same sword can either scratch or pierce depending on how it's swung; similarly, the gift is the same, but the way it's given makes the difference. How sweet and valuable is a gift when the giver doesn't allow themselves to be thanked, and when they give, they forget they've given! To criticize someone at the very moment you're helping them is pure madness; it's like mixing insult with your kindness. We shouldn't make our gifts burdensome or add any bitterness to them. Even if there's something you want to warn your friend about, choose another time to do so.

7. Fabius Verrucosus used to compare a benefit given by a harsh person in an unpleasant way to a gritty loaf of bread, which a hungry person has to accept but finds 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 like calling a meeting of creditors, not actually paying the debts. When the list was made, Tiberius wrote to Nepos telling him that he had ordered the money to be paid, and added some offensive remarks. The result was that Nepos owed no debts, yet received no kindness; Tiberius did relieve him from his creditors, but did not make him feel grateful. Tiberius, however, had some purpose in doing so; I imagine he did not want more of his friends to come to him with the same request. His way of doing things might have been successful in making people feel ashamed of their extravagant desires, but someone who wants to give benefits should act quite differently. You should always make your benefit as pleasant as possible by presenting it in the most appealing way; but the method of Tiberius is not to give benefits, but to criticize.

8. Moreover, if I may share my thoughts on this part of the topic, I don't think it's appropriate even for an emperor to give just to embarrass someone. "And yet," we are told, "Tiberius didn't achieve his goal even with this method; because after this, many people were found making the same request. He ordered all of them to explain the reasons for their debts before the senate, and when they did, he granted them certain specific amounts of money." This isn't an act of generosity, but a reprimand. You might call it a subsidy or an imperial contribution; it isn't a benefit, because the receiver can't think of it without feeling ashamed. I was called before a judge and had to be tried in court before I got what I asked for.

9. All writers on ethical philosophy tell us that some benefits should be given in secret, while others should be given in public. Things that are honorable to receive, like military awards or public positions, and anything else that becomes more valuable when widely known, should be given in public. On the other hand, when benefits don't enhance a person's status but instead help them in times of weakness, need, or disgrace, they should be given quietly and only known to those who receive them.

10. Sometimes, even the person who is helped must be kept in the dark, so they can receive our help without knowing where it comes from. It's said that Arcesilaus had a friend who was poor but hid his poverty, was sick but tried to hide his illness, and didn't have money for basic needs. Without his friend's knowledge, Arcesilaus placed a bag of money under his pillow, so this person wouldn't feel ashamed and could pretend they found what they needed rather than received it. "What," you ask, "shouldn't he know who gave it to him?" Yes, let him not know at first if it's crucial for your kindness; later, I'll do so much for him that he'll realize who gave the earlier help; or, even better, let him not know he received anything, as long as I know I gave it. "This," you say, "is getting too little in return for one's kindness." True, if you're thinking of it as an investment; but if it's a gift, it should be given in the way that best helps the receiver. You should be content with your own conscience's approval; if not, you don't truly enjoy doing good, but being seen doing good. "Still," you say, "I want him to know." Are you looking for a debtor? "Still, I want him to know." What! Even if it's more useful, more honorable, more pleasant for him not to know his benefactor, won't you step aside? "I want him to know." So, you wouldn't save a man's life in the dark? I don't deny that, whenever possible, one should consider the joy we get from the receiver's happiness; but if he needs help and is ashamed to accept it—if what we give him embarrasses him unless it's hidden—I refrain from making my help public. Why shouldn't I avoid hinting that I gave him anything, when the first and most important rule is never to remind a person of what you've done for them, and not even to bring it up. The rule for the giver and receiver of help is that the giver should immediately forget they gave it, while the receiver should never forget they received it.

11. Constantly bringing up your own good deeds can hurt your friend's feelings. Like the person who was saved from the proscription under the triumvirate by one of Caesar's friends, but later couldn't stand his savior's arrogance, they might want to say, "Give me back to Caesar." How long will you keep saying, "I saved you, I pulled you from the jaws of death?" This is truly life if I remember it by my own choice, but it's like death if I remember it because you make me; I owe you nothing if you saved me just to have someone to show off. How long do you plan to drag me around? How long will you stop me from forgetting my ordeal? If I had been a defeated enemy, I would have been paraded in triumph just once. We shouldn't talk about the benefits we've given; reminding people of them is like asking for them back. We shouldn't push them or bring them up again; you should only remind someone of what you've given by giving them something else. We shouldn't even tell others about our good deeds. The person who gives a benefit should stay quiet; it should be told by the receiver. Otherwise, you might get the response given to someone who was always bragging about the benefit they gave: "You won't deny," said the person, "that you've received something in return?" "When?" asked the giver. "Often," said the other, "and in many places, that is, wherever and whenever you've told the story." Why do you need to speak and take the place that belongs to someone else? There's someone who can tell the story in a way that reflects better on you, and this way you'll gain praise for not telling it yourself. You might think I'm ungrateful if, because of your silence, no one knows about your benefit. Instead of doing this, even if someone tells the story in our presence, we should say, "He indeed deserves much more than this, and I know I haven't done anything great for him yet, although I wish to." This shouldn't be said jokingly, nor with that attitude some people use to push away those they actually want to attract. Additionally, we should be very polite to such people. If a farmer stops working after planting seeds, he'll lose what he sowed; it's only with great effort that seeds yield a crop; no plant will bear fruit unless it's cared for from start to finish, and the same goes for benefits. Can any benefits be greater than those children receive from their parents? Yet these benefits are useless if the children are abandoned while young, if the parents' care doesn't continue to nurture the gift they've given. It's the same with other benefits; if you don't support them, you'll lose them; giving is not enough, you must nurture what you've given. If you want those you've helped to be grateful to you, you must not only give them benefits but also love them. Above all, as I said before, spare their ears; you'll annoy them if you remind them of your kindness, and if you reproach them with it, you'll make them hate you. Pride should be avoided above all when giving a benefit. Why do you need to act superior or use grand words? The act itself will elevate you. Let's avoid empty boasting: let's be silent and let our actions speak for us. A benefit given with arrogance not only fails to win gratitude but also causes dislike.

12. Gaius Caesar spared Pompeius Pennus's life, meaning he didn't take it away; then, when Pompeius was freed and thanking him, Caesar extended his left foot for him to kiss. Those who defend this action say it wasn't out of arrogance but to show off a gilded, even golden slipper adorned with pearls. "Well," they argue, "what shame is there in a man of consular rank kissing gold and pearls, and what part of Caesar's body would be less degrading to kiss?" So, the man whose goal was to turn a free state into a Persian-style tyranny wasn't satisfied when a senator, an elderly man, someone who had held the highest offices, bowed before him in front of all the nobles, just like the defeated bow before their conqueror! He found a spot below his knees to which he could push liberty. What is this but trampling on the state, and with the left foot, though you might say that detail doesn't matter? It wasn't enough of an outrageous and insane act for the emperor to sit at the trial of a consular wearing slippers; he had to shove his shoes into a senator's face.