from whence it flows. It is said that Arcesilaus had a friend who
was poor, but concealed his poverty; who was ill, yet tried to hide
his disorder, and who had not money for the necessary expenses of
existence. Without his knowledge, Arcesilaus placed a bag of money
under his pillow, in order that this victim of false shame might
rather seem to find what he wanted than to receive. "What," say
you, "ought he not to know from whom he received it?" Yes; let him
not know it at first, if it be essential to your kindness that he
should not; afterwards I will do so much for him, and give him so
much that he will perceive who was the giver of the former benefit;
or, better still, let him not know that he has received any thing,
provided I know that I have given it. "This," you say, "is to get
too little return for one's goodness." True, if it be an investment
of which you are thinking; but if a gift, it should be given in the
way which will be of most service to the receiver. You should be
satisfied with the approval of your own conscience; if not, you do
not really delight in doing good, but in being seen to do good.
"For all that," say you, "I wish him to know it." Is it a debtor
that you seek for? "For all that, I wish him to know it." What!
though it be more useful, more creditable, more pleasant for him
not to know his benefactor, will you not consent to stand aside? "I
wish him to know." So, then, you would not save a man's life in the
dark? I do not deny that, whenever the matter admits of it, one
ought to take into consideration the pleasure which we receive from
the joy of the receiver of our kindness; but if he ought to have
help and is ashamed to receive it--if what we bestow upon him pains
him unless it be concealed--I forbear to make my benefits public.
Why should I not refrain from hinting at my having given him
anything, when the first and most essential rule is, never to
reproach a man with what you have done for him, and not even to