# CHAPTER 29 — Who Is More Ungrateful, a People or a Prince?

In reference to the subject treated above, it seems appropriate to me to discuss whether more striking examples of this ingratitude are displayed by a people or a prince, and in order better to debate this matter, let me say that this vice of ingratitude is born either from avarice or from suspicion. When a people or a prince has sent forth one of its military leaders on an important expedition, and this commander through being victorious acquires great glory, that prince or that people is bound to reward him upon his return, and if instead of rewarding him and, motivated by avarice, it dishonours or injures him, restrained by its own greed from giving him his due, it commits an error which allows no excuse and, on the contrary, brings with it eternal infamy. Yet many princes can be found who commit this error, and Cornelius Tacitus states the reason in this sentence: ‘Men are more inclined to repay injury than kindness: the truth is that gratitude is irksome, while vengeance is accounted gain.’ * But when they fail to reward or, to tell the truth, to offend, motivated not by avarice but by suspicion, then either the people or the prince deserve some excuse. We read about many such acts of ingratitude displayed for just such a reason, because the commander who has skilfully acquired an empire for his lord by overcoming his enemies and, showering himself with glory and his troops with riches, necessarily acquires among his own soldiers and his enemies and among the subjects of his prince such renown that his victory cannot prove other than distasteful to the very lord who sent him forth. Furthermore, because human nature is ambitious, suspicious, and incapable of setting limits to a man’s fortunes, it is impossible for the suspicion immediately aroused in the prince after his commander’s victory not to be increased by some arrogant action or display of words on the commander’s part. Thus, the prince is unable to think of anything other than securing himself against his commander, and to accomplish this he considers either having him executed or taking away the reputation he has acquired with his army and among his peoples, and with every means possible he demonstrates that victory has come about not because of the commander’s ability but, instead, because of good fortune or the cowardice of the enemy or the prudence of the other leaders who were with him in that action.

When Vespasian was in Judaea, he was proclaimed emperor by his army, and Antonius Primus, who found himself with another army in Illyria, took his side and entered Italy with him against Vitellius, who was reigning in Rome, and with a great show of skill, he defeated two of Vitellius’ armies and occupied Rome, so that Mucianus, who had been sent by Vespasian, discovered that because of Antonius’ exceptional skill everything had been taken and every difficulty overcome. The reward Antonius received for this service was that Mucianus immediately took away his command of the army and, little by little, reduced him to a state of no authority in Rome, so that when Antonius went to see Vespasian, who was still in Asia, he was received by him in such a way that in a short time he was reduced to no rank whatsoever and, almost in despair, he died. Our histories are full of such examples. In our own times, everyone presently alive knows with what industry and skill Gonsalvo Ferrante, fighting in the Kingdom of Naples against the French for King Ferdinand of Aragon, conquered and vanquished that kingdom, and that the reward he received for his victory was that Ferdinand left Aragon and, having come to Naples, he first took away Gonsalvo’s command of the army; later he took away his fortresses; and then he took him to Spain, where a short time after he died in obscurity. This suspicion is so natural to princes that it cannot be avoided, and it is impossible for them to show gratitude to those whose victories have brought about great conquests under their banners.

It is no wonder that a prince cannot defend himself against this ingratitude, nor is it even noteworthy that a people cannot defend itself from it as well, because a city which lives in freedom has two goals, the first to acquire territory, the other to keep itself free, and it is likely to err in the pursuit of both of these goals through excessive love. As for the errors committed in acquiring territory, they will be discussed in the proper place. As for the errors committed in keeping itself free, there are, among others, the following: to inj ure citizens who should be rewarded; to be suspicious of those who should be trusted. Although these methods in a republic given over to corruption are the cause of great evils and quite often actually lead it to tyranny, as occurred in Rome with Caesar, who seized by force what ingratitude had denied him, they are nevertheless the cause of great benefits in an uncorrupted republic, and they cause it to live longer in liberty, since the fear of punishment makes men better and less ambitious. It is true that among all the peoples who ever possessed an empire, Rome was the least ungrateful for the reasons outlined above, because it can be said that there is no other example of her ingratitude than the case of Scipio, since Coriolanus and Camillus were exiled because of the harm each had inflicted upon the plebeians. The former was never pardoned, for he always harboured hostility in his heart against the people; the latter not only was recalled but he was adored as if he were a prince throughout the rest of his life. But the ingratitude shown to Scipio arose from a suspicion that the citizens began to have about him and which they did not feel about the others: a suspicion which arose from the grandeur of the enemy Scipio had vanquished; the fame which the victory in such a long and dangerous war had given him; the swiftness of this victory; and the favours which his youth, prudence, and other memorable virtues were acquiring for him. These things were so numerous that even the magistrates of Rome feared his authority, something which was displeasing to wise men since it was so unusual in Rome. His way of life seemed so unusual that Cato the Elder, reputed to be a saintly man, was the first to criticize him and to declare that a city could not call itself free when there was a citizen who was feared by the magistrates. Thus, if the people of Rome followed the opinion of Cato in this case, they deserve the excuse, as I stated above, that those peoples and princes deserve who are ungrateful out of suspicion. In bringing this discourse to a conclusion, then, let me say that the vice of ingratitude is displayed as a result of either avarice or suspicion, and it will be seen that the people never display it out of avarice, and that they resort to it out of suspicion much less often than princes do, since they have less cause to be suspicious, as will be explained below.