Bernard Mandeville - The Fable of the Bees (Philosophy Study)

As were’t unlawful, that one’s own,

Without a law-suit, should be known.

They kept off hearings wilfully, 65

To finger the refreshing fee;

And to defend a wicked cause,

Examin’d and survey’d the laws,

As burglar’s shops and houses do,

To find out where they’d best break through. 70

Physicians valu’d fame and wealth

Above the drooping patient’s health,

Or their own skill: the greatest part

Study’d, instead of rules of art,

Grave pensive looks and dull behaviour, 75

To gain th’ apothecary’s favour;

The praise of midwives, priests, and all

That serv’d at birth or funeral.

To bear with th’ ever-talking tribe,

And hear my lady’s aunt prescribe; 80

With formal smile, and kind how d’ye,

To fawn on all the family;

And, which of all the greatest curse is,

T’ endure th’ impertinence of nurses.

Among the many priests of Jove, 85

Hir’d to draw blessings from above,

Some few were learn’d and eloquent,

But thousands hot and ignorant:

Yet all pass’d muster that could hide

Their sloth, lust, avarice and pride; 90

For which they were as fam’d as tailors

For cabbage, or for brandy sailors,

Some, meagre-look’d, and meanly clad,

Would mystically pray for bread,

Meaning by that an ample store, 95

Yet lit’rally received no more;

And, while these holy drudges starv’d,

The lazy ones, for which they serv’d,

Indulg’d their ease, with all the graces

Of health and plenty in their faces. 100

The soldiers, that were forc’d to fight,

If they surviv’d, got honour by’t;

Though some, that shunn’d the bloody fray,

Had limbs shot off, that ran away:

Some valiant gen’rals fought the foe; 105

Others took bribes to let them go:

Some ventur’d always where ’twas warm,

Lost now a leg, and then an arm;

Till quite disabled, and put by,

They liv’d on half their salary; 110

While others never came in play,

And staid at home for double pay.

Their kings were serv’d, but knavishly,

Cheated by their own ministry;

Many, that for their welfare slaved, 115

Robbing the very crown they saved:

Pensions were small, and they liv’d high,

Yet boasted of their honesty.

Calling, whene’er they strain’d their right,

The slipp’ry trick a perquisite; 120

And when folks understood their cant,

They chang’d that for emolument;

Unwilling to be short or plain,

In any thing concerning gain;

For there was not a bee but would 125

Get more, I won’t say, than he should;

But than he dar’d to let them know,

That pay’d for’t; as your gamesters do,

That, though at fair play, ne’er will own

Before the losers that they’ve won. 130

But who can all their frauds repeat?

The very stuff which in the street

They sold for dirt t’ enrich the ground,

Was often by the buyers found

Sophisticated with a quarter 135

Of good-for-nothing stones and mortar;

Though Flail had little cause to mutter.

Who sold the other salt for butter.

Justice herself, fam’d for fair dealing,

By blindness had not lost her feeling; 140

Her left hand, which the scales should hold,

Had often dropt ’em, brib’d with gold;

And, though she seem’d impartial,

Where punishment was corporal,

Pretended to a reg’lar course, 145

In murder, and all crimes of force;

Though some first pillory’d for cheating,

Were hang’d in hemp of their own beating;

Yet, it was thought, the sword she bore

Check’d but the desp’rate and the poor; 150

That, urg’d by mere necessity,

Were ty’d up to the wretched tree

For crimes, which not deserv’d that fate,

But to secure the rich and great.

Thus every part was full of vice, 155

Yet the whole mass a paradise;

Flatter’d in peace, and fear’d in wars

They were th’ esteem of foreigners,

And lavish of their wealth and lives,

The balance of all other hives. 160

Such were the blessings of that state;

Their crimes conspir’d to make them great:

And virtue, who from politics

Has learn’d a thousand cunning tricks,

Was, by their happy influence, 165

Made friends with vice: And ever since,

The worst of all the multitude

Did something for the common good.

This was the state’s craft, that maintain’d

The whole of which each part complain’d: 170

This, as in music harmony

Made jarrings in the main agree,

Parties directly opposite,

Assist each other, as ’twere for spite;

And temp’rance with sobriety, 175

Serve drunkenness and gluttony.

The root of evil, avarice,

That damn’d ill-natur’d baneful vice,

Was slave to prodigality,

That noble sin; whilst luxury 180

Employ’d a million of the poor,

And odious pride a million more:

Envy itself, and vanity,

Were ministers of industry;

Their darling folly, fickleness, 185

In diet, furniture, and dress,

That strange ridic’lous vice, was made

The very wheel that turn’d the trade.

Their laws and clothes were equally

Objects of mutability! 190

For, what was well done for a time,

In half a year became a crime;

Yet while they altered thus their laws,

Still finding and correcting flaws,

They mended by inconstancy 195

Faults, which no prudence could foresee.

Thus vice nurs’d ingenuity,

Which join’d the time and industry,

Had carry’d life’s conveniences,

Its real pleasures, comforts, ease, 200

To such a height, the very poor Liv’d better than the rich before. And nothing could be added more.

How vain is mortal happiness!

Had they but known the bounds of bliss; 205

And that perfection here below

Is more than gods can well bestow;

The grumbling brutes had been content

With ministers and government.

But they, at every ill success, 210

Like creatures lost without redress,

Curs’d politicians, armies, fleets;

While every one cry’d, damn the cheats,

And would, though conscious of his own,

In others barb’rously bear none. 215

One, that had got a princely store,

By cheating master, king, and poor,

Dar’d cry aloud, the land must sink

For all its fraud; and whom d’ye think

The sermonizing rascal chid? 220

A glover that sold lamb for kid.

The least thing was not done amiss,

Or cross’d the public business;

But all the rogues cry’d brazenly,

Good gods, had we but honesty! 225

Merc’ry smil’d at th’ impudence,

And others call’d it want of sense,

Always to rail at what they lov’d:

But Jove with indignation mov’d,

At last in anger swore, he’d rid 230

The bawling hive of fraud; and did.

The very moment it departs,

And honesty fills all their hearts;

There shows ’em, like th’ instructive tree,

Those crimes which they’re asham’d to see; 235

Which now in silence they confess,

By blushing at their ugliness:

Like children, that would hide their faults,

And by their colour own their thoughts:

Imag’ning, when they’re look’d upon, 240

That others see what they have done.

But, O ye gods! what consternation,

How vast and sudden was th’ alteration!

In half an hour, the nation round,

Meat fell a penny in the pound. 245