I receive it just as he wished
it to be received: then he gets at once what he wanted, and the only
thing which he wanted, and therefore I have proved myself grateful.
After this it remains for me to enjoy my own resources, with the
addition of an advantage conferred upon me by one whom I have obliged;
this advantage is not the remainder of an imperfect service, but an
addition to a perfected service. [Footnote: Nothing is wanted to make
a benefit, conferred from good motives, perfect: if it is returned, the
gratitude is to be counted as net profit.] For example, Phidias makes a
statue. Now the product of an art is one thing, and that of a trade is
another. It is the business of the art to make the thing which he wished
to make, and that of the trade to make it with a profit. Phidias has
completed his work, even though he does not sell it. The product,
therefore, of his work is threefold: there is the consciousness of
having made it, which he receives when his work is completed; there is
the fame which he receives; and thirdly, the advantage which he obtains
by it, in influence, or by selling it, or otherwise. In like manner the
first fruit of a benefit is the consciousness of it, which we feel when
we have bestowed it upon the person whom we chose; secondly and thirdly
there is the credit which we gain by doing so, and there are those
things which we may receive in exchange for it. So when a benefit has
been graciously received, the giver has already received gratitude, but
has not yet received recompense for it: that which we owe in return is
therefore something apart from the benefit itself, for we have paid for
the benefit itself when we accept it in a grateful spirit.

XXXIV. "What," say you, "can a man repay a benefit, though he does
nothing?" He has taken the first step, he has offered you a good thing
with good feeling, and, which is the characteristic of friendship, has
placed you both on the same footing. In the next place, a benefit is not
repaid in the same manner as a loan: you have no reason for expecting
me to offer you any payment; the account between us depends upon the
feelings alone. What I say will not appear difficult, although it may
not at first accord with your ideas, if you will do me the favour to
remember that there are more things than there are words to express
them. There is an enormous mass of things without names, which we do not
speak of under distinctive names of their own, but by the n