The Fable of the Bees; Or, Private Vices, Public Benefits. Bernard Mandeville

nature, in the highest degree, or else gluttony, drunkenness, and impurities of a more execrable kind than adultery itself: and as for the mendicant orders, that they fer in nothing but their habits from other sturdy beggars, who deceive people with a pitiful tone, and an outward show of misery, and as soon as they are out of sight, lay by their cant, indulge their appetites, and enjoy one another.

      If the strict rules, and so many outward signs of devotion observed among those religious orders, deserve such harsh censures, we may well despair of meeting with virtue any where else; for if we look into the actions of the antagonists and greatest accusers of those votaries, we shall not find so much as the appearance of self-denial. The reverend divines of all sects, even of the most reformed churches in all countries, take care with the Cyclops Evangeliphorus first; ut ventri bene sit, and afterwards, ne quid desit iis quæ sub ventre sunt. To these they will desire you to add convenient houses, handsome furniture, good fires in winter, pleasant gardens in summer, neat clothes, and money enough to bring up their children; precedency in all companies, respect from every body, and then as much religion as you please. The things I have named are the necessary comforts of life, which the most modest are not ashamed to claim, and which they are very uneasy without. They are, it is true, made of the same mould, and have the same corrupt nature with other men, born with the same infirmities, subject to the same passions, and liable to the same temptations, and therefore if they are diligent in their calling, and can but abstain from murder, adultery, swearing, drunkenness, and other heinous vices, their lives are all called unblemished, and their reputations unspotted; their function renders them holy, and the gratification of so many carnal appetites, and the enjoyment of so much luxurious ease notwithstanding, they may set upon themselves what value their pride and parts will allow them.

      All this I have nothing against, but I see no self-denial, without which there can be no virtue. Is it such a mortification not to desire a greater share of worldly blessings, than what every reasonable man ought to be satisfied with? Or, is there any mighty merit in not being flagitious, and forbearing indecencies that are repugnant to good manners, and which no prudent man would be guilty of, though he had no religion at all?

      I know I shall be told, that the reason why the clergy are so violent in their resentments, when at any time they are but in the least affronted, and show themselves so void of all patience when their rights are invaded, is their great care to preserve their calling, their profession from contempt, not for their own sakes, but to be more serviceable to others. It is the same reason that makes them solicitous about the comforts and conveniences of life; for should they suffer themselves to be insulted over, be content with a coarser diet, and wear more ordinary clothes than other people, the multitude, who judge from outward appearances, would be apt to think that the clergy was no more the immediate care of Providence than other folks, and so not only undervalue their persons, but despise likewise all the reproofs and instructions that came from them. This is an admirable plea, and as it is much made use of, I will try the worth of it.

      I am not of the learned Dr. Echard’s opinion, that poverty is one of those things that bring the clergy into contempt, any further than as it may be an occasion of discovering their blind side: for when men are always struggling with their low condition, and are unable to bear the burden of it without reluctancy, it is then they show how uneasy their poverty sits upon them, how glad they would be to have their circumstances meliorated, and what a real value they have for the good things of this world. He that harangues on the contempt of riches, and the vanity of earthly enjoyments, in a rusty threadbare gown, because he has no other, and would wear his old greasy hat no longer if any body would give him a better; that drinks small beer at home with a heavy countenance, but leaps at a glass of wine if he can catch it abroad; that with little appetite feeds upon his own coarse mess, but falls to greedily where he can please his palate, and expresses an uncommon joy at an invitation to a splendid dinner: it is he that is despised, not because he is poor, but because he knows not how to be so, with that content and resignation which he preaches to others, and so discovers his inclinations to be contrary to his doctrine. But, when a man from the greatness of his soul (or an obstinate vanity, which will do as well) resolving to subdue his appetites in good earnest, refuses all the offers of ease and luxury that can be made to him, and embracing a voluntary poverty with cheerfulness, rejects whatever may gratify the senses, and actually sacrifices all his passions to his pride, in acting this part, the vulgar, far from contemning, will be ready to deify and adore him. How famous have the Cynic philosophers made themselves, only by refusing to dissimulate and make use of superfluities? Did not the most ambitious monarch the world ever bore, condescend to visit Diogenes in his tub, and return to a studied incivility, the highest compliment a man of his pride was able to make?

      Mankind are very willing to take one another’s word, when they see some circumstances that corroborate what is told them; but when our actions directly contradict what we say, it is counted impudence to desire belief. If a jolly hale fellow, with glowing cheeks and warm hands, newly returned from some smart exercise, or else the cold bath, tells us in frosty weather, that he cares not for the fire, we are easily induced to believe him, especially if he actually turns from it, and we know by his circumstances, that he wants neither fuel nor clothes: but if we should hear the same from the mouth of a poor starved wretch, with swelled hands, and a livid countenance, in a thin ragged garment, we should not believe a word of what he said, especially if we saw him shaking and shivering, creep toward the sunny bank; and we would conclude, let him say what he could, that warm clothes, and a good fire, would be very acceptable to him. The application is easy, and therefore if there be any clergy upon earth that would be thought not to care for the world, and to value the soul above the body, let them only forbear showing a greater concern for their sensual pleasures than they generally do for their spiritual ones, and they may rest satisfied, that no poverty, while they bear it with fortitude, will ever bring them into contempt, how mean soever their circumstances may be.

      Let us suppose a pastor that has a little flock intrusted to him, of which he is very careful: He preaches, visits, exhorts, reproves among his people with zeal and prudence, and does them all the kind offices that lie in his power to make them happy. There is no doubt but those under his care must be very much obliged to him. Now, we shall suppose once more, that this good man, by the help of a little self-denial, is contented to live upon half his income, accepting only of twenty pounds a-year instead of forty, which he could claim; and moreover, that he loves his parishioners so well, that he will never leave them for any preferment whatever, no not a bishoprick, though it be offered. I cannot see but all this might be an easy task to a man who professes mortification, and has no value for worldly pleasures; yet such a disinterested divine, I dare promise, notwithstanding the degeneracy of mankind, will be loved, esteemed, and have every body’s good word; nay, I would swear, that though he should yet further exert himself, give above half of his small revenue to the poor, live upon nothing but oatmeal and water, lie upon straw, and wear the coarsest cloth that could be made, his mean way of living would never be reflected on, or be a disparagement either to himself or the order he belonged to; but that on the contrary his poverty would never be mentioned but to his glory, as long as his memory should last.

      But (says a charitable young gentlewoman) though you have the heart to starve your parson, have you no bowels of compassion for his wife and children? pray what must remain of forty pounds a year, after it has been twice so unmercifully split? or would you have the poor woman and the innocent babes likewise live upon oatmeal and water, and lie upon straw, you unconscionable wretch, with all your suppositions and self-denials; nay, is it possible, though they should all live at your own murdering rate, that less than ten pounds a-year could maintain a family?——Do not be in a passion, good Mrs. Abigail, I have a greater regard for your sex than to prescribe such a lean diet to married men; but I confess I forgot the wives and children: The main reason was, because I thought poor priests could have no occasion for them. Who could imagine, that the parson who is to teach others by example as well as precept, was not able to withstand those desires which the wicked world itself calls unreasonable? What is the reason when an apprentice marries before he is out of his time, that unless he meets with a good fortune, all his relations are angry with him, and every body blames him? Nothing else, but because at that time he has no money at his disposal, and being bound to his master’s service, has no leisure, and perhaps little capacity to provide for a family. What must we say to a parson