I.
Not to return gratitude for benefits, my AEbutius Liberalis, is
both base in itself, and is thought base by all men; wherefore even
ungrateful men complain of ingratitude, and yet what all condemn is at
the same time rooted in all; and so far do men sometimes run into the
other extreme that some of them become our bitterest enemies, not merely
after receiving benefits from us, but because they have received them.
I cannot deny that some do this out of sheer badness of nature; but
more do so because lapse of time destroys their remembrance, for time
gradually effaces what they felt vividly at the moment. I remember
having had an argument with you about this class of persons, whom you
wished to call forgetful rather than ungrateful, as if that which caused
a man to be ungrateful was any excuse for his being so, or as if the
fact of this happening to a man prevented his being ungrateful, when we
know that it only happens to ungrateful men. There are many classes of
the ungrateful, as there are of thieves or of homicides, who all have
the same fault, though there is a great variety in its various forms.
The man is ungrateful who denies that he has received a benefit; who
pretends that he has not received it; who does not return it. The most
ungrateful man of all is he who forgets it. The others, though they do
not repay it, yet feel their debt, and possess some traces of worth,
though obstructed by their bad conscience. They may by some means and at
some time be brought to show their gratitude, if, for instance, they
be pricked by shame, if they conceive some noble ambition such as
occasionally rises even in the breasts of the wicked, if some easy
opportunity of doing so offers; but the man from whom all recollection
of the benefit has passed away can never become grateful. Which of the
two do you call the worse--he who is ungrateful for kindness, or he who
does not even remember it? The eyes which fear to look at the light are
diseased, but those which cannot see it are blind. It is filial impiety
not to love one's parents, but not to recognise them is madness.
II. Who is so ungrateful as he who has so completely laid aside and cast
away that which ought to be in the forefront of his mind and ever
before him, that he knows it not? It is clear that if forgetfulness of
a benefit steals over a man, he cannot have often thought about repaying
it.
In short, repayment requires gratitude, time, opportunity, and the help
of fortune; whereas, he who remembers a benefit is grateful for it, and
that too without expenditure. Since gratitude demands neither labour,
wealth, nor good fortune, he who fails to render it has no excuse behind
which to shelter himself; for he who places a benefit so far away that
it is out of his sight, never could have meant to be grateful for it.
Just as those tools which are kept in use, and are daily touched by the
hand, are never in danger of growing rusty, while those which are not
brought before our eyes, and lie as if superfluous, not being required
for common use, collect dirt by the mere lapse of time, so likewise that
which our thoughts frequently turn over and renew never passes from our
memory, which only loses those things to which it seldom directs its
eyes.
III. Besides this, there are other causes which at times erase the
greatest services from our minds. The first and most powerful of these
is that, being always intent upon new objects of desire, we think, not
of what we have, but of what we are striving to obtain. Those whose mind
is fixed entirely upon what they hope to gain, regard with contempt all
that is their own already. It follows that since men's eagerness for
something new makes them undervalue whatever they have received, they
do not esteem those from whom they have received it. As long as we are
satisfied with the position we have gained, we love our benefactor, we
look up to him, and declare that we owe our position entirely to him;
then we begin to entertain other aspirations, and hurry forward to
attain them after the manner of human beings, who when they have gained
much always covet more; straightway all that we used to regard as
benefits slip from our memory, and we no longer consider the advantages
which we enjoy over others, but only the insolent prosperity of those
who have outstripped us. Now no one can at the same time be both jealous
and grateful, because those who are jealous are querulous and sad, while
the grateful are joyous. In the next place, since none of us think of
any time but the present, and but few turn back their thoughts to the
past, it results that we forget our teachers, and all the benefits
which we have obtained from them, because we have altogether left
our childhood behind us: thus, all that was done for us in our youth
perishes unremembered, because our youth itself is never reviewed. What
has been is regarded by every one, not only as past, but as gone; and
for the same reason, our memory is weak for what is about to happen in
the future.
IV. Here I must do Epicurus the justice to say that he constantly
complains of our ingratitude for past benefits, because we cannot bring
back again, or count among our present pleasures, those good things
which we have received long ago, although no pleasures can be more
undeniable than those which cannot be taken from us. Present good is not
yet altogether complete, some mischance may interrupt it; the future is
in suspense, and uncertain; but what is past is laid up in safety. How
can any man feel gratitude for benefits, if he skips through his
whole life entirely engrossed with the present and the future? It is
remembrance that mates men grateful; and the more men hope, the less
they remember.
V. In the same way, my Liberalis, as some things remain in our memory as
soon as they are learned, while to know others it is not enough to have
learned them, for our knowledge slips away from us unless it be kept
up--I allude to geometry and astronomy, and such other sciences as are
Hard to remember because of their intricacy--so the greatness of some
benefits prevents their being forgotten, while others, individually
less, though many more in number, and bestowed at different times, pass
from our minds, because, as I have stated above, we do not constantly
think about them, and do not willingly recognize how much we owe to each
of our benefactors. Listen to the words of those who ask for favours.
There is not one of them who does not declare that his remembrance will
be eternal, who does not vow himself your devoted servant and slave, or
find, if he can, some even greater expression of humility with which to
pledge himself. After a brief space of time these same men avoid
their former expressions, thinking them abject, and scarcely befitting
free-born men; afterwards they arrive at the same point to which, as
I suppose, the worst and most ungrateful of men come--that is, they
forget. So little does forgetfulness excuse ingratitude, that even the
remembrance of a benefit may leave us ungrateful.
VI. The question has been raised, whether this most odious vice ought to
go unpunished; and whether the law commonly made use of in the schools,
by which we can proceed against a man for ingratitude, ought to be
adopted by the State also, since all men agree that it is just. "Why
not?" you may say, "seeing that even cities cast in each other's teeth
the services which they have performed to one another, and demand from
the children some return for benefits conferred upon their fathers?" On
the other hand, our ancestors, who were most admirable men, made demands
upon their enemies alone, and both gave and lost their benefits with
magnanimity. With the exception of Macedonia, no nation has ever
established an action at law for ingratitude. And this is a strong
argument against its being established, because all agree in blaming
crime; and homicide, poisoning, parricide, and sacrilege are visited
with different penalties in different countries, but everywhere with
some penalty; whereas this most common vice is nowhere punished, though
it is everywhere blamed. We do not acquit it; but as it would be most
difficult to reckon accurately the penalty for so varying a matter, we
condemn it only to be hated, and place it upon the list of those crimes
which we refer for judgment to the gods.
VII. Many arguments occur to me which prove that this vice ought not
to come under the action of the law. First of all, the best part of a
benefit is lost if the benefit can be sued for at law, as in the case of
a loan, or of letting and hiring. Indeed, the finest part of a benefit
is that we have given it without considering whether we shall lose it or
not, that we have left all this to the free choice of him who receives
it: if I call him before a judge, it begins to be not a benefit, but a
loan. Next, though it is a most honourable thing to show gratitude, it
ceases to be honourable if it be forced, for in that case no one will
praise a grateful man any more than he praises him who restores the
money which was deposited in his keeping, or who pays what he borrowed
without the intervention of a judge. We should therefore spoil the two
finest things in human life,--a grateful man and a beneficent man; for
what is there admirable in one who does not give but merely lends a
benefit, or in one who repays it, not because he wishes, but because he
is forced to do so? There is no credit in being grateful, unless it
is safe to be ungrateful. Besides this, all the courts would hardly be
enough for the action of this one law. Who would not plead under it? Who
would not be pleaded against? for every one exalts his own merits,
every one magnifies even the smallest matters which he has bestowed upon
another. Besides this, those things which form the subject of a judicial
inquiry can be distinctly defined, and cannot afford unlimited licence
to the judge; wherefore a good cause is in a better position if it
before a judge than before an arbitrator, because the words of the law
tie down a judge and define certain limits beyond which he may not pass,
whereas the conscience of an arbitrator is free and not fettered by
any rules, so that he can either give or take away, and can arrange his
decision, not according to the precepts of law and justice, but just
as his own kindly feeling or compassion may prompt him. An action for
ingratitude would not bind a judge, but would place him in the position
of an autocrat. It cannot be known what or how great a benefit is; all
that would be really important would be, how indulgently the judge might
interpret it. No law defines an ungrateful person, often, indeed, one
who repays what he has received is ungrateful, and one who has not
returned it is grateful. Even an unpractised judge can give his vote
upon some matters; for instance, when the thing to be determined is
whether something has or has not been done, when a dispute is terminated
by the parties giving written bonds, or when the casting up of accounts
decides between the disputants. When, however, motives have to be
guessed at, when matters upon which wisdom alone can decide, are brought
into court, they cannot be tried by a judge taken at random from the
list of "select judges," [Footnote: See Smith's "Dict. of Antiq.," s.
v] whom property and the inheritance of an equestrian fortune [Footnote:
400,000 sesterces] has placed upon the roll.
VIII. Ingratitude, therefore, is not only matter unfit to be brought
into court, but no judge could be found fit to try it; and this you
will not be surprised at, if you examine the difficulties of any one who
should attempt to prosecute a man upon such a charge. One man may
have given a large sum of money, but he is rich and would not feel it;
another may have given it at the cost of his entire inheritance. The
sum given is the same in each case, but the benefit conferred is not the
same. Add another instance: suppose that to redeem a debtor from slavery
one man paid money from his own private means, while another man paid
the same sum, but had to borrow it or beg for it, and allow himself to
be laid under a great obligation to some one; would you rank the man who
so easily bestowed his benefit on an equality with him who was obliged
to receive a benefit himself before he could bestow it? Some benefits
are great, not because of their amount, but because of the time at which
they are bestowed; it is a benefit to give an estate whose fertility
can bring down the price of corn, and it is a benefit to give a loaf of
bread in time of famine; it is a benefit to give provinces through which
flow vast navigable rivers, and it is a benefit, when men are parched
with thirst, and can scarcely draw breath through their dry throats,
to show them a spring of water. Who will compare these cases with one
another, or weigh one against the other? It is hard to give a decision
when it is not the thing given, but its meaning, which has to be
considered; though what is given is the same, yet if it be given
under different circumstances it has a different value. A man may have
bestowed a benefit upon me, but unwillingly; he may have complained of
having given it; he may have looked at me with greater haughtiness than
he was wont to do; he may have been so slow in giving it, that he would
have done me a greater service if he had promptly refused it. How could
a judge estimate the value of these things, when words, hesitation, or
looks can destroy all their claim to gratitude?
IX. What, again, could he do, seeing that some things are called
benefits because they are unduly coveted, whilst others are not benefits
at all, according to this common valuation, yet are of even greater
value, though not so showy? You call it a benefit to cause a man to be
adopted as a member of a powerful city, to get him enrolled among the
knights, or to defend one who is being tried for his life: what do you
say of him who gives useful advice? of him who holds you back when you
would rush into crime? of him who strikes the sword from the hands of
the suicide? of him who by his power of consolation brings back to the
duties of life one who was plunged in grief, and eager to follow those
whom he had lost? of him who sits at the bedside of the sick man, and
who, when health and recovery depend upon seizing the right moment,
administers food in due season, stimulates the failing veins with wine,
or calls in the physician to the dying man? Who can estimate the value
of such services as these? who can bid us weigh dissimilar benefits one
with another? "I gave you a house," says one. Yes, but I forewarned
you that your own house would come down upon your head. "I gave you an
estate," says he. True, but I gave a plank to you when shipwrecked. "I
fought for you and received wounds for you," says another. But I saved
your life by keeping silence. Since a benefit is both given and returned
differently by different people, it is hard to make them balance.
X. Besides this, no day is appointed for repayment of a benefit, as
there is for borrowed money; consequently he who has not yet repaid a
benefit may do so hereafter: for tell me, pray, within what time a man
is to be declared ungrateful? The greatest benefits cannot be proved by
evidence; they often lurk in the silent consciousness of two men
only; are we to introduce the rule of not bestowing benefits without
witnesses? Next, what punishment are we to appoint for the ungrateful?
is there to be one only for all, though the benefits which they have
received are different? or should the punishment be varying, greater
or less according to the benefit which each has received? Are our
valuations to be restricted to pecuniary fines? what are we to do,
seeing that in some cases the benefit conferred is life, and things
dearer than life? What punishment is to be assigned to ingratitude for
these? One less than the benefit? That would be unjust. One equal to it;
death? What could be more inhuman than to cause benefits to result in
cruelty?
XI. It may be argued, "Parents have certain privileges: these are
regarded as exempt from the action of ordinary rules, and so also ought
to be the case with other beneficent persons." Nay; mankind has
assigned a peculiar sanctity to the position of parents, because it
was advantageous that children should be reared, and people had to be
tempted into undergoing the toil of doing so, because the issue of their
experiment was doubtful. One cannot say to them, as one does to others
who bestow benefits, "Choose the man to whom you give: you must only
blame yourself if you are deceived; help the deserving." In rearing
children nothing depends upon the judgment of those who rear them; it is
a matter of hope: in order, therefore, that people may be more willing
to embark upon this lottery, it was right that they should be given a
certain authority; and since it is useful for youth to be governed, we
have placed their parents in the position of domestic magistrates, under
whose guardianship their lives may be ruled. Moreover, the position of
parents differs from that of other benefactors, for their having given
formerly to their children does not stand in the way of their giving
now and hereafter; and also, there is no fear of their falsely asserting
that they have given: with others one has to inquire not only whether
they have received, but whether they have given; but the good deeds of
parents are placed beyond doubt. In the next place, one benefit bestowed
by parents is the same for all, and might be counted once for all;
while the others which they bestow are of various kinds, unlike one to
another, differing from one another by the widest possible intervals;
they can therefore come under no regular rule, since it would be more
just to leave them all unrewarded than to give the same reward to all.
XII. Some benefits cost much to the givers, some are of much value
to the receivers but cost the givers nothing. Some are bestowed upon
friends, others on strangers: now although that which is given be the
same, yet it becomes more when it is given to one with whom you
are beginning to be acquainted through the benefits which you have
previously conferred upon him. One man may give us help, another
distinctions, a third consolation. You may find one who thinks nothing
pleasanter or more important than to have some one to save him from
distress; you may again find one who would rather be helped to great
place than to security; while some consider themselves more indebted to
those who save their lives than to those who save their honour. Each
of these services will be held more or less important, according as the
disposition of our judge inclines to one or the other of them. Besides
this, I choose my creditors for myself, whereas I often receive benefits
from those from whom I would not, and sometimes I am laid under an
obligation without my knowledge. What will you do in such a case? When
a man has received a benefit unknown to himself, and which, had he known
of it, he would have refused to receive, will you call him ungrateful if
he does not repay it, however he may have received it? Suppose that some
one has bestowed a benefit upon me, and that the same man has afterwards
done me some wrong; am I to be bound by his one bounty to endure with
patience any wrong that he may do me, or will it be the same as if I had
repaid it, because he himself has by the subsequent wrong cancelled his
own benefit? How, in that case, would you decide which was the greater;
the present which the man has received, or the injury which has
been done him? Time would fail me if I attempted to discuss all the
difficulties which would arise.
XIII. It may be argued that "we render men less willing to confer
benefits by not supporting the claim of those which have been bestowed
to meet with gratitude, and by not punishing those who repudiate them."
But you would find, on the other hand, that men would be far less
willing to receive benefits, if by so doing they were likely to incur
the danger of having to plead their cause in court, and having more
difficulty in proving their integrity. This legislation would also
render us less willing to give: for no one is willing to give to those
who are unwilling to receive, but one who is urged to acts of kindness
by his own good nature and by the beauty of charity, will give all the
more freely to those who need make no return unless they choose. It
impairs the credit of doing a service, if in doing it we are carefully
protected from loss.
XIV. "Benefits, then, will be fewer, but more genuine: well, what harm
is there in restricting people from giving recklessly?" Even those who
would have no legislation upon the subject follow this rule, that we
ought to be somewhat careful in giving, and in choosing those upon whom
we bestow favours. Reflect over and over again to whom you are giving:
you will have no remedy at law, no means of enforcing repayment. You are
mistaken if you suppose that the judge will assist you: no law will
make full restitution to you, you must look only to the honour of the
receiver. Thus only can benefits retain their influence, and thus only
are they admirable: you dishonour them if you make them the grounds of
litigation, "Pay what you owe" is a most just proverb; and one which
carries with it the sanction of all nations; but in dealing with
benefits it is most shameful. "Pay!" How is a man to pay who owes his
life, his position, his safety, or his reason to another? None of the
greatest benefits can be repaid. "Yet," it is said, "you ought to give
in return for them something of equal value." This is just what I have
been saying, that the grandeur of the act is ruined if we make our
benefits commercial transactions. We ought hot to encourage ourselves in
avarice, in discontent, or in quarrels; the human mind is prone enough
to these by nature. As far as we are able, let us check it, and cut off
the opportunities for which it seeks.
XV. Would that we could indeed persuade men to receive back money which
they have lent from those debtors only who are willing to pay! would
that no agreement ever bound the buyer to the seller, and that their
interests were not protected by sealed covenants and agreements, but
rather by honour and a sense of justice! However, men prefer what
is needful to what is truly best, and choose rather to force their
creditors to keep faith with them than to trust that they will do so.
Witnesses are called on both sides; the one, by calling in brokers,
makes several names appear in his accounts as his debtors instead of
one; the other is not content with the legal forms of question and
answer unless he holds the other party by the hand. What a shameful
admission of the dishonesty and wickedness of mankind! men trust more to
our signet-rings than to our intentions. For what are these respectable
men summoned? for what do they impress their seals? it is in order that
the borrower may not deny that he has received what he has received.
You regard these men, I suppose, as above bribes, as maintainers of the
truth: well, these very men will not be entrusted with money except on
the same terms. Would it not, then, be more honourable to be deceived
by some than to suspect all men of dishonesty? To fill up the measure
of avarice one thing only is lacking, that we should bestow no benefit
without a surety. To help, to be of service, is the part of a generous
and noble mind; he who gives acts like a god, he who demands repayment
acts like a money-lender. Why then, by trying to protect the rights of
the former class, should we reduce them to the level of the basest of
mankind?
XVI. "More men," our opponent argues, "will be ungrateful, if no legal
remedy exists against ingratitude." Nay, fewer, because then benefits
will be bestowed with more discrimination, In the next place, it is not
advisable that it should be publicly known how many ungrateful men there
are: for the number of sinners will do away with the disgrace of
the sin, and a reproach which applies to all men will cease to be
dishonourable. Is any woman ashamed of being divorced, now that some
noble ladies reckon the years of their lives, not by the number of the
consuls, but by that of their husbands, now that they leave their
homes in order to marry others, and marry only in order to be divorced?
Divorce was only dreaded as long as it was unusual; now that no gazette
appears without it, women learn to do what they hear so much about. Can
any one feel ashamed of adultery, now that things have come to such
a pass that no woman keeps a husband at all unless it be to pique her
lover? Chastity merely implies ugliness. Where will you find any woman
so abject, so repulsive, as to be satisfied with a single pair of
lovers, without having a different one for each hour of the day; nor is
the day long enough for all of them, unless she has taken her airing
in the grounds of one, and passes the night with another. A woman is
frumpish and old-fashioned if she does not know that "adultery with one
paramour is nick-named marriage." Just as all shame at these vices has
disappeared since the vice itself became so widely spread, so if you
made the ungrateful begin to count their own numbers, you would both
make them more numerous, and enable them to be ungrateful with greater
impunity.
XVII. "What then? shall the ungrateful man go unpunished?" What then,
I answer, shall we punish the undutiful, the malicious, the avaricious,
the headstrong, and the cruel? Do you imagine that those things which
are loathed are not punished, or do you suppose that any punishment is
greater than the hate of all men? It is a punishment not to dare receive
a benefit from anyone, not to dare to bestow one, to be, or to fancy
that you are a mark for all men's eyes, and to lose all appreciation of
so excellent and pleasant a matter. Do you call a man unhappy who has
lost his sight, or whose hearing has been impaired by disease, and do
you not call him wretched who has lost the power of feeling benefits? He
fears the gods, the witnesses of all ingratitude; he is tortured by
the thought of the benefit which he has misapplied, and, in fine, he is
sufficiently punished by this great penalty, that, as I said before, he
cannot enjoy the fruits of this most delightful act. On the other hand,
he who takes pleasure in receiving a benefit, enjoys an unvarying and
continuous happiness, which he derives from consideration, not of
the thing given, but of the intention of the giver. A benefit gives
perpetual joy to a grateful man, but pleases an ungrateful one only for
a moment. Can the lives of such men be compared, seeing that the one
is sad and gloomy--as it is natural that a denier of his debts and a
defrauder should be, a man who does not give his parents, his nurses, or
his teachers the honour which is their due--while the other is joyous,
cheerful, on the watch for an opportunity of proving his gratitude, and
gaining much pleasure from this frame of mind itself? Such a man has no
wish to become bankrupt, but only to make the fullest and most copious
return for benefits, and that not only to parents and friends, but also
to more humble persons; for even if he receives a benefit from his
own slave, he does not consider from whom he receives it, but what he
receives.
XVIII. It has, however, been doubted by Hecaton and some other writers,
whether a slave can bestow a benefit upon his master. Some distinguish
between benefits, duties, and services, calling those things benefits
which are bestowed by a stranger--that is, by one who could discontinue
them without blame--while duties are performed by our children, our
wives, and those whom relationship prompts and orders to afford us help;
and, thirdly, services are performed by slaves, whose position is such
that nothing which they do for their master can give them any claim upon
him....
Besides this, he who affirms that a slave does not sometimes confer
a benefit upon his master is ignorant of the rights of man; for the
question is, not what the station in life of the giver may be, but what
his intentions are. The path of virtue is closed to no one, it lies open
to all; it admits and invites all, whether they be free-born men, slaves
or freed-men, kings or exiles; it requires no qualifications of family
or of property, it is satisfied with a mere man. What, indeed, should we
have to trust to for defence against sudden misfortunes, what could--a
noble mind promise to itself to keep unshaken, if virtue could be lost
together with prosperity? If a slave cannot confer a benefit upon his
master, then no subject can confer a benefit upon his king, and no
soldier upon his general; for so long as the man is subject to supreme
authority, the form of authority can make no difference. If main force,
or the fear of death and torture, can prevent a slave from gaining any
title to his master's gratitude, they will also prevent the subjects of
a king, or the soldiers of a general from doing so, for the same things
may happen to either of these classes of men, though under different
names.
Yet men do bestow benefits upon their kings and their generals;
therefore slaves can bestow benefits upon their masters. A slave can be
just, brave, magnanimous; he can therefore bestow a benefit, for this
is also the part of a virtuous man. So true is it that slaves can bestow
benefits upon their masters, that the masters have often owed their
lives to them.
XIX. There is no doubt that a slave can bestow a benefit upon anyone;
why, then, not upon his master? "Because," it is argued, "he cannot
become his master's creditor if he gives him money. If this be not so,
he daily lays his master under an obligation to him; he attends him when
on a journey, he nurses him when sick, he works most laboriously at the
cultivation of his estate; yet all these, which would be called benefits
if done for us by anyone else, are merely called service when done by
a slave. A benefit is that which some one bestows who has the option of
withholding it:--now a slave has no power to refuse, so that he does
not afford us his help, but obeys our orders, and cannot boast of having
done what he could not leave undone." Even under these conditions I
shall win the day, and will place a slave in such positions, that for
many purposes he will be free; in the meanwhile, tell me, if I give you
an instance of a slave fighting for his master's safety without regard
to himself, pierced through with wounds, yet spending the last drops of
his blood, and gaining time for his master to escape by the sacrifice of
his life, will you say that this man did not bestow a benefit upon his
master because he was a slave? If I give an instance of one who could
not be bribed to betray his master's secrets by any of the offers of
a tyrant, who was not terrified by any threats, nor overpowered by any
tortures, but who, as far as he was able, placed his questioners upon a
wrong scent, and, paid for his loyalty with his life; will you say
that this man did not confer a benefit upon his master because he was a
slave? Consider, rather, whether an example of virtue in a slave be not
all the greater because it is rarer than in free men, and whether it be
not all the more gratifying that, although to be commanded is odious,
and all submission to authority is irksome, yet in some particular cases
love for a master has been more powerful than men's general dislike to
servitude. A benefit does not, therefore, cease to be a benefit because
it is bestowed by a slave, but is all the greater on that account,
because not even slavery could restrain him from bestowing it.
XX. It is a mistake to imagine that slavery pervades a man's whole
being; the better part of him is exempt from it: the body indeed is
subjected and in the power of a master, but the mind is independent, and
indeed is so free and wild, that it cannot be restrained even by this
prison of the body, wherein it is confined, from following its own
impulses, dealing with gigantic designs, and soaring into the infinite,
accompanied by all the host of heaven. It is, therefore, only the body
which misfortune hands over to a master, and which he buys and sells;
this inward part cannot be transferred as a chattel. Whatever comes
from this, is free; indeed, we are not allowed to order all things to be
done, nor are slaves compelled to obey us in all things; they will not
carry out treasonable orders, or lend their hands to an act of crime.
XXI. There are some things which the law neither enjoins nor forbids; it
is in these that a slave finds the means of bestowing benefits. As long
as we only receive what is generally demanded from a slave, that is
mere service; when more is given than a slave need afford us, it is a
benefit; as soon as what he does begins to partake of the affection of
a friend, it can no longer be called service. There are certain things
with which a master is bound to provide his slave, such as food and
clothing; no one calls this a benefit; but supposing that he indulges
his slave, educates him above his station, teaches him arts which
free-born men learn, that is a benefit. The converse is true in the case
of the slave; anything which goes beyond the rules of a slave's duty,
which is done of his own free will, and not in obedience to orders, is a
benefit, provided it be of sufficient importance to be called by such a
name if bestowed by any other person.
XXII. It has pleased Chrysippus to define a slave as "a hireling for
life." Just as a hireling bestows a benefit when he does more than he
engaged himself to do, so when a slave's love for his master raises him
above his condition and urges him to do something noble--something which
would be a credit even to men more fortunate by birth--he surpasses the
hopes of his master, and is a benefit found in the house. Do you think
it is just that we should be angry with our slaves when they do less
than their duty, and that we should not be grateful to them when they do
more? Do you wish to know when their service is not a benefit? When the
question can be asked, "What if he had refused to do it?" When he does
that which he might have refused to do, we must praise his good will.
Benefits and wrongs are opposites; a slave can bestow a benefit upon his
master, if he can receive a wrong from his master. Now an official has
been appointed to hear complaints of the wrongs done by masters to their
slaves, whose duty it is to restrain cruelty and lust, or avarice in
providing them with the necessaries of life. What follows, then? Is it
the master who receives a benefit from his slave? nay, rather, it is
one man who receives it from another. Lastly, he did all that lay in his
power; he bestowed a benefit upon his master; it lies in your power to
receive or not to receive it from a slave. Yet who is so exalted, that
fortune may not make him need the aid even of the lowliest?
XXIII. I shall now quote a number of instances of benefits, not all
alike, some even contradictory. Some slaves have given their master
life, some death; have saved him when perishing, or, as if that were
not enough, have saved him by their own death; others have helped
their master to die, some have saved his life by stratagem. Claudius
Quadrigarius tells us in the eighteenth book of his "Annals," that
when Grumentum was being besieged, and had been reduced to the greatest
straits, two slaves deserted to the enemy, and did valuable service.
Afterwards, when the city was taken, and the victors were rushing wildly
in every direction, they ran before every one else along the streets,
which they well knew, to the house in which they had been slaves, and
drove their mistress before them; when they were asked who she might
be, they answered that she was their mistress, and a most cruel one, and
that they were leading her away for punishment. They led her outside the
walls, and concealed her with the greatest care until the fighting
was over; then, as the soldiery, satisfied with the sack of the city,
quickly resumed the manners of Romans, they also returned to their
own countrymen, and themselves restored their mistress to them. She
manumitted each of them on the spot, and was not ashamed to receive her
life from men over whom she had held the power of life and death. She
might, indeed, especially congratulate herself upon this; for had
she been saved otherwise, she would merely have received a common and
hackneyed piece of kindness, whereas, by being saved as she was, she
became a glorious legend, and an example to two cities. In the confusion
of the captured city, when every one was thinking only of his own
safety, all deserted her except these deserters; but they, that they
might prove what had been their intentions in effecting that desertion,
deserted again from the victors to the captive, wearing the masks of
unnatural murderers.
They thought--and this was the greatest part of the service which they
rendered--they were content to seem to have murdered their mistress, if
thereby their mistress might be saved from murder. Believe me, it is
the mark of no slavish soul to purchase a noble deed by the semblance of
crime.
When Vettius, the praetor of the Marsi, was being led into the presence
of the Roman general, his slave snatched a sword from the soldier who
was dragging him along, and first slew his master. Then he said, "It is
now time for me to look to myself; I have already set my master free,"
and with these words transfixed himself with one blow. Can you tell me
of anyone who saved his master more gloriously?
XXIV. When Caesar was besieging Corfinium, Domitius, who was shut up in
the city, ordered a slave of his own, who was also a physician, to give
him poison. Observing the man's hesitation, he said, "Why do you delay,
as though the whole business was in your power? I ask for death with
arms in my hands." Then the slave assented, and gave him a harmless drug
to drink. When Domitius fell asleep after drinking this, the slave went
to his son, and said, "Give orders for my being kept in custody until
you learn from the result whether I have given your father poison or
no." Domitius lived, and Caesar saved his life; but his slave had saved
it before.
XXV. During the civil war, a slave hid his master, who had been
proscribed, put on his rings and clothes, met the soldiers who were
searching for him, and, after declaring that he would not stoop to
entreat them not to carry out their orders, offered his neck to their
swords. What a noble spirit it shows in a slave to have been willing
to die for his master, at a time when few were faithful enough to
wish their master to live! to be found kind when the state was cruel,
faithful when it was treacherous! to be eager for the reward of
fidelity, though it was death, at a time when such rich rewards were
offered for treachery!
XXVI. I will not pass over the instances which our own age affords. In
the reign of Tiberius Caesar, there was a common and almost universal
frenzy for informing, which was more ruinous to the citizens of Rome
than the whole civil war; the talk of drunkards, the frankness of
jesters, was alike reported to the government; nothing was safe; every
opportunity of ferocious punishment was seized, and men no longer waited
to hear the fate of accused persons, since it was always the same. One
Paulus, of the Praetorian guard, was at an entertainment, wearing a
portrait of Tiberius Caesar engraved in relief upon a gem. It would be
absurd for me to beat about the bush for some delicate way of explaining
that he took up a chamber-pot, an action which was at once noticed by
Maro, one of the most notorious informers of that time, and the slave of
the man who was about to fall into the trap, who drew the ring from the
finger of his drunken master. When Maro called the guests to witness
that Paulus had dishonoured the portrait of the emperor, and was already
drawing up an act of accusation, the slave showed the ring upon his
own finger. Such a man no more deserves to be called a slave, than Maro
deserved to be called a guest.
XXVII. In the reign of Augustus men's own words were not yet able to
ruin them, yet they sometimes brought them into trouble. A senator named
Rufus, while at dinner, expressed a hope that Caesar would not return
safe from a journey for which he was preparing, and added that all bulls
and calves wished the same thing. Some of those present carefully noted
these words. At daybreak, the slave who had stood at his feet during the
dinner, told him what he had said in his cups, and urged him to be the
first to go to Caesar, and denounce himself. Rufus followed this advice,
met Caesar as he was going down to the forum, and, swearing that he was
out of his mind the day before, prayed that what he had said might fall
upon his own head and that of his children; he then begged Caesar pardon
him, and to take him back into favour. When Caesar said that he would
do so, he added, "No one will believe that you have taken me back into
favour unless you make me a present of something;" and he asked for and
obtained a sum of money so large, that it would have been a gift not to
be slighted even if bestowed by an unoffended prince. Caesar added: "In
future I will take care never to quarrel with you, for my own sake."
Caesar acted honourably in pardoning him, and in being liberal as well
as forgiving; no one can hear this anecdote without praising Caesar,
but he must praise the slave first. You need not wait for me to tell
you that the slave who did his master this service was set free; yet his
master did not do this for nothing, for Caesar had already paid him the
price of the slave's liberty.
XXVIII. After so many instances, can we doubt that a master may
sometimes receive a benefit from a slave? Why need the person of the
giver detract from the thing which he gives? why should not the gift add
rather to the glory of the giver. All men descend from the same original
stock; no one is better born than another, except in so far as his
disposition is nobler and better suited for the performance of good
actions. Those who display portraits of their ancestors in their halls,
and set up in the entrance to their houses the pedigree of their family
drawn out at length, with many complicated collateral branches, are they
not notorious rather than noble? The universe is the one parent of all,
whether they trace their descent from this primary source through a
glorious or a mean line of ancestors. Be not deceived when men who are
reckoning up their genealogy, wherever an illustrious name is wanting,
foist in that of a god in its place. You need despise no one, even
though he bears a commonplace name, and owes little to fortune. Whether
your immediate ancestors were freedmen, or slaves, or foreigners, pluck
up your spirits boldly, and leap over any intervening disgraces of your
pedigree; at its source, a noble origin awaits you. Why should our
pride inflate us to such a degree that we think it beneath us to receive
benefits from slaves, and think only of their position, forgetting their
good deeds? You, the slave of lust, of gluttony, of a harlot, nay, who
are owned as a joint chattel by harlots, can you call anyone else
a slave? Call a man a slave? why, I pray you, whither are you being
hurried by those bearers who carry your litter? whither are these men
with their smart military-looking cloaks carrying you? is it not to the
door of some door-keeper, or to the gardens of some one who has not even
a subordinate office? and then you, who regard the salute of another
man's slave as a benefit, declare that you cannot receive a benefit from
your own slave. What inconsistency is this? At the same time you despise
and fawn upon slaves, you are haughty and violent at home, while out of
doors you are meek, and as much despised as you despise your slaves;
for none abase themselves lower than those who unconscionably give
themselves airs, nor are anymore prepared to trample upon others than
those who have learned how to offer insults by having endured them.
XXIX. I felt it my duty to say this, in order to crush the arrogance of
men who are themselves at the mercy of fortune, and to claim the right
of bestowing a benefit for slaves, in order that I may claim it also for
sons. The question arises, whether children can ever bestow upon their
parents greater benefits than those which they have received from them.
It is granted that many sons become greater and more powerful than their
parents, and also that they are better men. If this be true, they may
give better gifts to their fathers than they have received from them,
seeing that their fortune and their good nature are alike greater than
that of their father. "Whatever a father receives from his son," our
opponent will urge, "must in any case be lees than what the son received
from him, because the son owes to his father the very power of giving.
Therefore the father can never be surpassed in the bestowal of benefits,
because the benefit which surpasses his own is really his." I answer,
that some things derive their first origin from others, yet are greater
than those others; and a thing may be greater than that from which it
took its rise, although without that thing to start from it never could
have grown so great. All things greatly outgrow their beginnings. Seeds
are the causes of all things, and yet are the smallest part of the
things which they produce. Look at the Rhine, or the Euphrates, or any
other famous rivers; how small they are, if you only view them at the
place from whence they take their rise? they gain all that makes them
terrible and renowned as they flow along. Look at the trees which are
tallest if you consider their height, and the broadest if you look at
their thickness and the spread of their branches; compared with all
this, how small a part of them is contained in the slender fibres of
the root? Yet take away their roots, and no more groves will arise, nor
great mountains be clothed with trees. Temples and cities are supported
by their foundations; yet what is built as the foundation of the entire
building lies out of sight. So it is in other matters; the subsequent
greatness of a thing ever eclipses its origin. I could never have
obtained anything without having previously received the boon of
existence from my parents; yet it does not follow from this that
whatever I obtain is less than that without which I could not obtain it.
If my nurse had not fed me when I was a child, I should not have been
able to conduct any of those enterprises which I now carry on, both with
my head and with my hand, nor should I ever have obtained the fame which
is due to my labours both in peace and war; would you on that account
argue that the services of a nurse were more valuable than the most
important undertakings? Yet is not the nurse as important as the father,
since without the benefits which I have received from each of them
alike, I should have been alike unable to effect anything? If I owe all
that I now can do to my original beginning, I cannot regard my father or
my grandfather as being this original beginning; there always will be a
spring further back, from which the spring next below is derived. Yet no
one will argue that I owe more to unknown and forgotten ancestors
than to my father; though really I do owe them more, if I owe it to my
ancestors that my father begat me.
XXX. "Whatever I have bestowed upon my father," says my opponent,
"however great it may be, yet is less valuable than what my father has
bestowed upon me, because if he had not begotten me, it never could
have existed at all." By this mode of reasoning, if a man has healed
my father when ill, and at the point of death, I shall not be able to
bestow anything upon him equivalent to what I have received from him;
for had my father not been healed, he could not have begotten me. Yet
think whether it be not nearer the truth to regard all that I can do,
and all that I have done, as mine, due to my own powers and my own will?
Consider what the fact of my birth is in itself; you will see that it
is a small matter, the outcome of which is dubious, and that it may lead
equally to good or to evil; no doubt it is the first step to everything,
but because it is the first, it is not on that account more important
than all the others. Suppose that I have saved my father's life, raised
him to the highest honours, and made him the chief man in his city,
that I have not merely made him illustrious by my own deeds, but have
furnished him himself with an opportunity of performing great exploits,
which is at once important, easy, and safe, as well as glorious; that I
have loaded him with appointments, wealth, and all that attracts men's
minds; still, even when I surpass all others, I am inferior to him.
Now if you say, "You owe to your father the power of doing all this," I
shall answer, "Quite true, if to do all this it is only necessary to be
born; but if life is merely an unimportant factor in the art of living
well, and if you have bestowed upon me only that which I have in common
with wild beasts and the smallest, and some of the foulest of creatures,
do not claim for yourself what did not come into being in consequence of
the benefits which you bestowed, even though it could not have come into
being without them."
XXXI. Suppose, father, that I have saved your life, in return for the
life which I received from you: in this case also I have outdone your
benefit, because I have given life to one who understands what I have
done, and because I understood what I was doing, since I gave you your
life not for the sake of, or by the means of my own pleasure; for just
as it is less terrible to die before one has time to fear death, so it
is a much greater boon to preserve one's life than to receive it. I have
given life to one who will at once enjoy it, you gave it to one who knew
not if he should ever live; I have given life to one who was in fear of
death, your gift of life merely enables me to die; I have given you a
life complete, perfect; you begat me without intelligence, a burden upon
others. Do you wish to know how far from a benefit it was to give life
under such conditions? You should have exposed me as a child, for you
did me a wrong in begetting me. What do I gather from this? That the
cohabitation of a father and mother is the very least of benefits to
their child, unless in addition this beginning of kindnesses be followed
up by others, and confirmed by other services. It is not a good thing
to live, but to live well. "But," say you, "I do live well." True, but
I might have lived ill; so that your part in me is merely this, that I
live. If you claim merit to yourself for giving me mere life, bare and
helpless, and boast of it as a great boon, reflect that this you claim
merit for giving me is a boon which I possess in common with flies and
worms. In the next place, if I say no more than that I have applied
myself to honourable pursuits, and have guided the course of my life
along the path of rectitude, then you have received more from your
benefit than you gave; for you gave me to myself ignorant and unlearned,
and I have returned to you a son such as you would wish to have
begotten.
XXXII. My father supported me. If I repay this kindness, I give him
more than I received, because he has the pleasure, not only of being
supported, but of being supported by a son, and receives more delight
from my filial devotion than from the food itself, whereas the food
which he used to give me merely affected my body. What? if any man
rises so high as to become famous among nations for his eloquence, his
justice, or his military skill, if much of the splendour of his renown
is shed upon his father also, and by its clear light dispels the
obscurity of his birth, does not such a man confer an inestimable
benefit upon his parents? Would anyone have heard of Aristo and Gryllus
except through Xenophon and Plato, their sons? Socrates keeps alive
the memory of Sophroniscus. It would take long to recount the other
men whose names survive for no other reason than that the admirable
qualities of their sons have handed them down to posterity. Did the
father of Marcus Agrippa, of whom nothing was known, even after Agrippa
became famous, confer the greater benefit upon his son, or was that
greater which Agrippa conferred upon his father when he gained the
glory, unique in the annals of war, of a naval crown, and when he raised
so many vast buildings in Rome, which not only surpassed all former
grandeur, but have been surpassed by none since? Did Octavius confer a
greater benefit upon his son, or the Emperor Augustus upon his father,
obscured as he was by the intervention of an adoptive father? What joy
would he have experienced, if, after the putting down of the civil war,
he had seen his son ruling the state in peace and security? He would not
have recognized the good which he had himself bestowed, and would hardly
have believed, when he looked back upon himself, that so great a man
could have been born in his house. Why should I go on to speak of others
who would now be forgotten, if the glory of their sons had not raised
them from obscurity, and kept them in the light until this day? In the
next place, as we are not considering what son may have given back to
his father greater benefits than he received from him, but whether a son
can give back greater benefits, even if the examples which I have quoted
are not sufficient, and such benefits do not outweigh the benefits
bestowed by the parents, if no age has produced. an actual example,
still it is not in the nature of things impossible. Though no solitary
act can outweigh the deserts of a parent, yet many such acts combined by
one son may do so.
XXXIII. Scipio, while under seventeen years of age, rode among the enemy
in battle, and saved his father's life. Was it not enough, that in order
to reach his father he despised so many dangers when they were pressing
hardest upon the greatest generals, that he, a novice in his first
battle, made his way through so many obstacles, over the bodies of so
many veteran soldiers, and showed strength and courage beyond his years?
Add to this, that he also defended his father in court, and saved him
from a plot of his powerful enemies, that he heaped upon him a second
and a third consulship and other posts which were coveted even by
consulars, that when his father was poor he bestowed upon him the
plunder which he took by military licence, and that he made him rich
with the spoils of the enemy, which is the greatest honour of a soldier.
If even this did not repay his debt, add to it that he caused him to
be constantly employed in the government of provinces and in special
commands, add, that after he had destroyed the greatest cities,
and became without a rival either in the east or in the west, the
acknowledged protector and second founder of the Roman Empire, he
bestowed upon one who was already of noble birth the higher title of
"the father of Scipio;" can we doubt that the commonplace benefit of his
birth was outdone by his exemplary conduct, and by the valour which was
at once the glory and the protection of his country? Next, if this
be not enough, suppose that a son were to rescue his father from the
torture, or to undergo it in his stead. You can suppose the benefits
returned by the son as great as you please, whereas the gift he received
from his father was of one sort only, was easily performed, and was
a pleasure to the giver; that he must necessarily have given the same
thing to many others, even to some to whom he knows not that he has
given it, that he had a partner in doing so, and that he had in view the
law, patriotism, the rewards bestowed upon fathers of families by the
state, the maintenance of his house and family: everything rather than
him to whom he was giving life. What? supposing that any one were to
learn philosophy and teach it to his father, could it be any longer
disputed that the son had given him something greater than he had
received from him, having returned to his father a happy life, whereas
he had received from him merely life?
XXXIV. "But," says our opponent, "whatever you do, whatever you are able
to give to your father, is part of his benefit bestowed upon you." So
it is the benefit of my teacher that I have become proficient in liberal
studies; yet we pass on from those who taught them to us, at any rate
from those who taught us the alphabet; and although no one can learn
anything without them, yet it does not follow that whatsoever success
one subsequently obtains, one is still inferior to those teachers. There
is a great difference between the beginning of a thing and its final
development; the beginning is not equal to the thing at its greatest,
merely upon the ground that, without the beginning, it could never have
become so great.
XXXV. It is now time for me to bring forth something, so to speak, from
my own mint. So long as there is something better than the benefit which
a man bestows, he may be outdone. A father gives life to his son;
there is something better than life; therefore a father may be outdone,
because there is something better than the benefit which he has
bestowed. Still further, he who has given any one his life, if he be
more than once saved from peril of death by him, has received a greater
benefit than he bestowed. Now, a father has given life to his son: if,
therefore, he be more than once saved from peril by his son, he can
receive a greater benefit than he gave. A benefit becomes greater to the
receiver in proportion to his need of it. Now he who is alive needs life
more than he who has not been born, seeing that such a one can have no
need at all; consequently a father, if his life is saved by his son,
receives a greater benefit than his son received from him by being born.
It is said, "The benefits conferred by fathers cannot be outdone by
those returned by their sons." Why? "Because the son received life from
his father, and had he not received it, he could not have returned any
benefits at all." A father has this in common with all those who have
given any men their lives; it is impossible that these men could repay
the debt if they had not received their life. Then I suppose one cannot
overpay one's debt to a physician, for a physician gives life as well
as a father; or to a sailor who has saved us when shipwrecked? Yet the
benefits bestowed by these and by all the others who give us life in
whatever fashion, can be outdone: consequently those of our fathers can
be outdone. If any one bestows upon me a benefit which requires the help
of benefits from many other persons, whereas I give him what requires no
one to help it out, I have given more than I have received; now a father
gave to his son a life which, without many accessories to preserve it,
would perish; whereas a son, if he gives life to his father, gives him
a life which requires no assistance to make it lasting; therefore the
father who receives life from his son, receives a greater benefit than
he himself bestowed upon his son.
XXXVI. These considerations do not destroy the respect due to parents,
or make their children behave worse to them, nay, better; for virtue
is naturally ambitious, and wishes to outstrip those who are before it.
Filial piety will be all the more eager, if, in returning a father's
benefits, it can hope to outdo them; nor will this be against the will
or the pleasure of the father, since in many contests it is to our
advantage to be outdone. How does this contest become so desirable?
How comes it to be such happiness to parents that they should confess
themselves outdone by the benefits bestowed by their children? Unless we
decide the matter thus, we give children an excuse, and make them less
eager to repay their debt, whereas we ought to spur them on, saying,
"Noble youths, give your attention to this! You are invited to contend
in an honourable strife between parents and children, as to which party
has received more than it has given. Your fathers have not necessarily
won the day because they are first in the field: only take courage, as
befits you, and do not give up the contest; you will conquer if you wish
to do so. In this honourable warfare you will have no lack of leaders
who will encourage you to perform deeds like their own, and bid you
follow in their footsteps upon a path by which victory has often before
now been won over parents."
XXXVII. AEneas conquered his father in well doing, for he himself had
been but a light and a safe burden for him when he was a child, yet he
bore his father, when heavy with age, through the midst of the enemy's
lines and the crash of the city which was falling around him, albeit the
devout old man, who bore the sacred images and the household gods in
his hands, pressed him with more than his own weight; nevertheless
(what cannot filial piety accomplish!) AEneas bore him safe through the
blazing city, and placed him in safety, to be worshipped as one of the
founders of the Roman Empire. Those Sicilian youths outdid their parents
whom they bore away safe, when Aetna, roused to unusual fury, poured
fire over cities and fields throughout a great part of the island. It
is believed that the fires parted, and that the flames retired on either
side, so as to leave a passage for these youths to pass through, who
certainly deserved to perform their daring task in safety. Antigonus
outdid his father when, after having conquered the enemy in a great
battle, he transferred the fruits of it to him, and handed over to him
the empire of Cyprus. This is true kingship, to choose not to be a king
when you might. Manlius conquered his father, imperious [Footnote:
There is an allusion to the surname of both the father and the son,
"Imperiosus" given them on account of their severity.] though he was,
when, in spite of his having previously been banished for a time by his
father on, account of his dulness and stupidity as a boy, he came to an
interview which he had demanded with the tribune of the people, who
had filed an action against his father. The tribune had granted him the
interview, hoping that he would betray his hated father, and believed
that he had earned the gratitude of the youth, having, amongst other
matters, reproached old Manlius with sending him into exile, treating
it as a very serious accusation; but the youth, having caught him alone,
drew a sword which he had hidden in his robe, and said, "Unless you
swear to give up your suit against my father, I will run you through
with this sword. It is in your power to decide how my father shall be
freed from his prosecutor." The tribune swore, and kept his oath; he
related the reason of his abandonment of his action to an assembly at
the Rostra. No other man was ever permitted to put down a tribune with
impunity.
XXXVIII. There are instances without number of men who have saved their
parents from danger, have raised them from the lowest to the highest
station, and, taking them from the nameless mass of the lower classes,
have given them a name glorious throughout all ages. By no force of
words, by no power of genius, can one rightly express how desirable, how
admirable, how never to be erased from human memory it is to be able to
say, "I obeyed my parents, I gave way to them, I was submissive to their
authority whether it was just, or unjust and harsh; the only point in
which I resisted them was, not to be conquered by them in benefits."
Continue this struggle, I beg of you, and even though weary, yet re-form
your ranks. Happy are they who conquer, happy they who are conquered.
What can be more glorious than the youth who can say to himself--it
would not be right to say it to another--"I have conquered my father
with benefits"? What is more fortunate than that old man who declares
everywhere to everyone that he has been conquered in benefits by
his son? What, again, is more blissful than to be overcome in such a
contest?