Ingratitude is of all the crimes, that which we are to account the most venial in others, and the most unpardonable in ourselves. It is impious to the highest degree; for it makes us fight against our children and our altars. There are, there ever were, and there ever will be criminals of all sorts, as murderers, tyrants, thieves, adulterers, traitors, robbers and sacrilegious persons; but there is hardly any notorious crime without a mixture of ingratitude. It disunites mankind, and breaks the very pillars of society; and yet so far is this prodigious wickedness from being any wonder to us, that even thankfulness itself were much the greater of the two; for men are deterred from it by labor, expense, laziness, business; or else diverted from it by lust, envy, ambition, pride, levity, rashness, fear; nay, by the very shame of confessing what they have received. And the unthankful man has nothing to say for himself all this while, for there needs neither pains or fortune for the discharge of his duty, beside the inward anxiety and torment when a man’s conscience makes him afraid of his own thoughts.
Ingratitude is the crime we should forgive most easily in others and least easily in ourselves. It is deeply impious because it makes us fight against our children and our sacred places. There are, there always were, and there always will be criminals of all kinds: murderers, tyrants, thieves, adulterers, traitors, robbers, and those who violate sacred things. But almost every notorious crime contains some element of ingratitude. It divides humanity and destroys the very foundations of society. Yet this terrible wickedness doesn't surprise us at all. In fact, genuine thankfulness would be much more surprising. People avoid being grateful because of hard work, expense, laziness, or business concerns. Or they get distracted by lust, envy, ambition, pride, carelessness, recklessness, or fear. Sometimes they're simply too ashamed to admit what they've received. The ungrateful person has no excuse for his behavior. Being grateful requires no effort or money, only the inner anxiety and torment that comes when a person's conscience makes him afraid of his own thoughts.
To speak against the ungrateful is to rail against mankind, for even those that complain are guilty: nor do I speak only of those that do not live up to the strict rule of virtue; but mankind itself is degenerated and lost. We live unthankfully in this world, and we go struggling and murmuring out of it, dissatisfied with our lot, whereas we should be grateful for the blessings we have enjoyed, and account that sufficient which Providence has provided for us; a little more time may make our lives longer but not happier, and whensoever it is the pleasure of God to call us, we must obey; and yet all this while we go on quarreling at the world for what we find in ourselves, and we are yet more unthankful to Heaven than we are to one another. What benefit can be great now to that man that despises the bounties of his Maker? We would be as strong as elephants, as swift as bucks, as light as birds—and we complain that we have not the sagacity of dogs, the sight of eagles, the long life of ravens—nay, that we are not immortal, and endued with the knowledge of things to come: nay, we take it ill that we are not gods upon earth, never considering the advantages of our condition, or the benignity of Providence in the comforts that we enjoy. We subdue the strongest of creatures and overtake the fleetest—we reclaim the fiercest and outwit the craftiest. We are within one degree of heaven itself, and yet we are not satisfied.
To speak against ungrateful people is to criticize all of humanity, because even those who complain are guilty of ingratitude. I'm not just talking about people who don't follow strict moral rules. Humanity itself has become corrupt and lost. We live ungratefully in this world, and we leave it struggling and complaining, dissatisfied with our circumstances. Instead, we should be grateful for the blessings we've enjoyed. We should consider what Providence has given us to be enough. A little more time might make our lives longer, but not happier. Whenever God chooses to call us, we must obey. Yet we keep blaming the world for problems that come from within ourselves. We're even more ungrateful to Heaven than we are to each other. What good can come to someone who despises the gifts of his Creator? We want to be as strong as elephants, as fast as deer, as light as birds. We complain that we don't have the intelligence of dogs, the eyesight of eagles, or the long life of ravens. We're upset that we're not immortal and don't know the future. We're angry that we're not gods on earth. We never consider the advantages of our situation or how kind Providence has been in giving us the comforts we enjoy. We conquer the strongest creatures and catch the fastest ones. We tame the fiercest animals and outsmart the cleverest. We are just one step below heaven itself, and yet we're not satisfied.
Since there is not any one creature which we had rather be, we take it ill that we cannot draw the united excellencies of all other creatures into ourselves. Why are we not rather thankful to that goodness which has subjected the whole creation to our use and service?
Since we don't want to be any other creature, we get upset that we can't absorb all the best qualities of every other creature into ourselves. Why aren't we more grateful to the goodness that has put all of creation at our disposal for our use and benefit?
The principal causes of ingratitude are pride and self-conceit, avarice, envy, etc. It is a familiar exclamation, “It is true he did this or that for me, but it came so late, and it was so little, I had even as good have been without it—if he had not given it to me, he must have given it to somebody else—it was nothing out of his pocket.” Nay, we are so ungrateful, that he that gives us all we have, if he leaves any thing to himself, we reckon that he does us an injury.
The main causes of ingratitude are pride, self-importance, greed, and envy. We often hear people say, "Yes, he did this or that for me, but it came so late and was so little. I might as well have done without it. If he hadn't given it to me, he would have given it to someone else anyway. It cost him nothing." We are so ungrateful that even when someone gives us everything we have, we feel wronged if they keep anything for themselves.
It cost Julius Cæsar his life by the disappointment of his insatiable companions; and yet he reserved nothing of all that he got to himself but the liberty of disposing of it. There is no benefit so large but malignity will still lessen it; none so narrow, which a good interpretation will not enlarge. No man shall ever be grateful that views a benefit on the wrong side, or takes a good office by the wrong handle. The avaricious man is naturally ungrateful, for he never thinks he has enough, but, without considering what he has, only minds what he covets. Some pretend want of power to make a competent return, and you shall find in others a kind of graceless modesty, that makes a man ashamed of requiting an obligation, because it is a confession that he has received one.
Julius Caesar lost his life because he disappointed his greedy companions. Yet he kept nothing for himself except the right to decide how to give it away. No benefit is so great that spite won't make it seem smaller. No benefit is so small that a generous view won't make it seem larger. No one will ever be grateful if they look at a favor from the wrong angle or misunderstand a good deed. Greedy people are naturally ungrateful because they never think they have enough. They don't consider what they already have. They only focus on what they want. Some people claim they lack the power to repay a favor properly. Others have a kind of shameless modesty that makes them embarrassed to repay an obligation. This is because repaying it means admitting they received help in the first place.
Not to return one good office for another is inhuman; but to return evil for good is diabolical. There are too many even of this sort, who, the more they owe, the more they hate. There is nothing more dangerous than to oblige those people; for when they are conscious of not paying the debt, they wish the creditor out of the way. It is a mortal hatred, that which arises from the shame of an abused benefit. When we are on the asking side, what a deal of cringing there is, and profession! “Well, I shall never forget this favor, it will be an eternal obligation to me.” But within a while the note is changed, and we hear no more words of it, until, by little and little, it is all quite forgotten. So long as we stand in need of a benefit, there is nothing dearer to us; nor anything cheaper, when we have received it. And yet a man may as well refuse to deliver up a sum of money that is left him in trust without a suit, as not to return a good office without asking; and when we have no value any farther for the benefit, we do commonly care as little for the author. People follow their interest: one man is grateful for his convenience, and another man is ungrateful for the same reason.
Failing to return one good deed for another is inhuman. But returning evil for good is diabolical. There are too many people like this. The more they owe, the more they hate their benefactor. Nothing is more dangerous than helping these people. When they know they can't repay the debt, they wish their creditor would disappear. The shame of an abused favor creates a deadly hatred. When we're asking for help, how much groveling and promising we do! "I'll never forget this favor. I'll be eternally grateful to you." But soon the tune changes. We hear no more about it. Little by little, it's completely forgotten. As long as we need help, nothing is more precious to us. Once we've received it, nothing is cheaper. A person might as well refuse to return money held in trust without being sued as fail to return a good deed without being asked. When the benefit no longer matters to us, we usually care just as little for the person who gave it. People follow their own interests. One person is grateful for convenience. Another is ungrateful for the same reason.
Some are ungrateful to their own country, and their country no less ungrateful to others; so that the complaint of ingratitude reaches all men. Doth not the son wish for the death of his father, the husband for that of his wife, etc. But who can look for gratitude in an age of so many gaping and craving appetites, where all people take, and none give? In an age of license to all sorts of vanity and wickedness, as lust, gluttony, avarice, envy, ambition, sloth, insolence, levity, contumacy, fear, rashness, private discords and public evils, extravagant and groundless wishes, vain confidences, sickly affections, shameless impieties, rapine authorized, and the violation of all things, sacred and profane: obligations are pursued with sword and poison; benefits are turned into crimes, and that blood most seditiously spilt for which every honest man should expose his own. Those that should be the preservers of their country are the destroyers of it; and it is a matter of dignity to trample upon the government: the sword gives the law, and mercenaries take up arms against their masters. Among these turbulent and unruly motions, what hope is there of finding honesty or good faith, which is the quietest of all virtues? There is no more lively image of human life than that of a conquered city; there is neither mercy, modesty, nor religion; and if we forget our lives, we may well forget our benefits. The world abounds with examples of ungrateful persons, and no less with those of ungrateful governments. Was not Catiline ungrateful? whose malice aimed, not only at the mastering of his country, but at the total destruction of it, by calling in an inveterate and vindictive enemy from beyond the Alps, to wreak their long-thirsted-for revenge, and to sacrifice the lives of as many noble Romans as might serve to answer and appease the ghosts of the slaughtered Gauls? Was not Marius ungrateful, that, from a common soldier, being raised up to a consul, not only gave the world for civil bloodshed and massacres, but was himself the sign of the execution; and every man he met in the streets, to whom he did not stretch out his right hand, was murdered? And was not Sylla ungrateful too? that when he had waded up to the gates in human blood, carried the outrage into the city, and there most barbarously cut two entire legions to pieces in a corner, not only after the victory, but most perfidiously after quarter given them? Good God! that ever any man should not only escape with impunity, but receive a reward for so horrid a villainy! Was not Pompey ungrateful too? who, after three consulships, three triumphs, and so many honors, usurped before his time, split the commonwealth into three parts, and brought it to such a pass, that there was no hope of safety but by slavery only; forsooth, to abate the envy of his power, he took other partners with him into the government, as if that which was not lawful for any one might have been allowable for more; dividing and distributing the provinces, and breaking all into a triumvirate, reserving still two parts of the three in his own family. And was not Cæsar ungrateful also, though to give him his due, he was a man of his word; merciful in his victories, and never killed any man but with his sword in his hand? Let us therefore forgive one another. Only one word more now for the shame of ungrateful Governments. Was not Camillus banished? Scipio dismissed? and Cicero exiled and plundered? But, what is all this to those who are so mad, and to dispute even the goodness of Heaven, which gives us all, and expects nothing again, but continues giving to the most unthankful and complaining?
Some people are ungrateful to their own country, and their country is equally ungrateful to others. The complaint of ingratitude reaches everyone. Doesn't the son wish for his father's death, the husband for his wife's death, and so on? But who can expect gratitude in an age of so many greedy and demanding appetites, where everyone takes and no one gives? In an age that permits all kinds of vanity and wickedness: lust, gluttony, greed, envy, ambition, laziness, arrogance, frivolity, defiance, fear, recklessness, private conflicts and public evils, wild and baseless desires, false confidence, unhealthy emotions, shameless impieties, authorized theft, and the violation of all things sacred and profane. People pursue their obligations with sword and poison. Benefits are turned into crimes. Blood is spilled rebelliously for causes that every honest person should defend with their own life. Those who should preserve their country are destroying it instead. It has become dignified to trample on the government. The sword makes the law, and mercenaries take up arms against their masters. Among these turbulent and unruly movements, what hope is there of finding honesty or good faith, which is the quietest of all virtues? There is no more vivid image of human life than that of a conquered city. There is no mercy, modesty, or religion. If we forget our lives, we can easily forget our benefits. The world is full of examples of ungrateful people, and equally full of ungrateful governments. Wasn't Catiline ungrateful? His malice aimed not only at conquering his country, but at completely destroying it. He called in a bitter and vengeful enemy from beyond the Alps to satisfy their long-awaited revenge and sacrifice the lives of as many noble Romans as needed to appease the ghosts of the slaughtered Gauls. Wasn't Marius ungrateful? He rose from common soldier to consul, then gave the world civil bloodshed and massacres. He was himself the signal for execution. Every man he met in the streets who didn't receive his outstretched right hand was murdered. And wasn't Sylla ungrateful too? After wading through human blood up to the gates, he carried the outrage into the city. There he barbarously cut two entire legions to pieces in a corner, not only after victory, but treacherously after giving them quarter. Good God! How could any man not only escape punishment, but receive a reward for such horrible villainy! Wasn't Pompey ungrateful too? After three consulships, three triumphs, and so many honors seized before his time, he split the commonwealth into three parts. He brought it to such a state that there was no hope of safety except through slavery. To reduce the envy of his power, he took other partners into the government, as if what was unlawful for one might be allowable for more. He divided and distributed the provinces, breaking everything into a triumvirate, while still reserving two parts of the three in his own family. And wasn't Caesar ungrateful also? Though to give him his due, he was a man of his word, merciful in his victories, and never killed any man except with his sword in his hand. Let us therefore forgive one another. Just one more word now about the shame of ungrateful governments. Wasn't Camillus banished? Scipio dismissed? And Cicero exiled and plundered? But what is all this compared to those who are so mad as to dispute even the goodness of Heaven, which gives us everything and expects nothing in return, but continues giving to the most unthankful and complaining?