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

keeps a troop of horse a day.

      The haughty Chloe, to live great,

      Had made her husband rob the state:

      But now she sells her furniture,

      Which th’ Indies had been ransack’d for; 370

      Contracts the expensive bill of fare,

      And wears her strong suit a whole year:

      The slight and fickle age is past;

      And clothes, as well as fashions, last.

      Weavers, that join’d rich silk with plate, 375

      And all the trades subordinate,

      Are gone; still peace and plenty reign,

      And every thing is cheap, though plain:

      Kind nature, free from gard’ners force,

      Allows all fruits in her own course; 380

      But rarities cannot be had,

      Where pains to get them are not paid.

      As pride and luxury decrease,

      So by degrees they leave the seas.

      Not merchants now, but companies 385

      Remove whole manufactories.

      All arts and crafts neglected lie;

      Content, the bane of industry,

      Makes ’em admire their homely store,

      And neither seek nor covet more. 390

      So few in the vast hive remain,

      The hundredth part they can’t maintain

      Against th’ insults of numerous foes;

      Whom yet they valiantly oppose:

      ’Till some well fenc’d retreat is found, 395

      And here they die or stand their ground.

      No hireling in their army’s known;

      But bravely fighting for their own,

      Their courage and integrity

      At last were crown’d with victory. 400

      They triumph’d not without their cost,

      For many thousand bees were lost.

      Harden’d with toils and exercise,

      They counted ease itself a vice;

      Which so improv’d their temperance; 405

      That, to avoid extravagance,

      They flew into a hollow tree,

      Blest with content and honesty.

      THE MORAL.

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      Then leave complaints: fools only strive

      To make a great an honest hive. 410

      T’ enjoy the world’s conveniences,

      Be fam’d in war, yet live in ease,

      Without great vices, is a vain

      Eutopia seated in the brain.

      Fraud, luxury, and pride must live, 415

      While we the benefits receive:

      Hunger’s a dreadful plague, no doubt,

      Yet who digests or thrives without?

      Do we not owe the growth of wine

      To the dry shabby crooked vine? 420

      Which, while its shoots neglected stood,

      Chok’d other plants, and ran to wood;

      But blest us with its noble fruit,

      As soon as it was ty’d and cut:

      So vice is beneficial found, 425

      When it’s by justice lopp’d and bound;

      Nay, where the people would be great,

      As necessary to the state,

      As hunger is to make ’em eat.

      Bare virtue can’t make nations live 430

      In splendor; they, that would revive

      A golden age, must be as free,

      For acorns as for honesty. 433

      THE

       INTRODUCTION.

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      One of the greatest reasons why so few people understand themselves, is, that most writers are always teaching men what they should be, and hardly ever trouble their heads with telling them what they really are. As for my part, without any compliment to the courteous reader, or myself, I believe man (besides skin, flesh, bones, &c. that are obvious to the eye) to be a compound of various passions; that all of them, as they are provoked and come uppermost, govern him by turns, whether he will or no. To show that these qualifications, which we all pretend to be ashamed of, are the great support of a flourishing society, has been the subject of the foregoing poem. But there being some passages in it seemingly paradoxical, I have in the preface promised some explanatory remarks on it; which, to render more useful, I have thought fit to inquire, how man, no better qualified, might yet by his own imperfections be taught to distinguish between virtue and vice: and here I must desire the reader once for all to take notice, that when I say men, I mean neither Jews nor Christians; but mere man, in the state of nature and ignorance of the true Deity.

      AN

       INQUIRY

       INTO THE

       ORIGIN OF MORAL VIRTUE.

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      All untaught animals are only solicitous of pleasing themselves, and naturally follow the bent of their own inclinations, without considering the good or harm that, from their being pleased, will accrue to others. This is the reason that, in the wild state of nature, those creatures are fittest to live peaceably together in great numbers, that discover the least of understanding, and have the fewest appetites to gratify; and consequently no species of animals is, without the curb of government, less capable of agreeing long together in multitudes, than that of man; yet such are his qualities, whether good or bad I shall not determine, that no creature besides himself can ever be made sociable: but being an extraordinary selfish and headstrong, as well as cunning animal, however he may be subdued by superior strength, it is impossible by force alone to make him tractable, and receive the improvements he is capable of.

      The chief thing, therefore, which lawgivers, and other wise men that have laboured for the establishment of society, have endeavoured, has been to make the people they were to govern, believe, that it was more beneficial for every body to conquer than indulge his appetites, and much better to mind the public than what seemed his private interest. As this has always been a very difficult task, so no wit or eloquence has been left untried to compass it; and the moralists and philosophers of all ages employed their utmost skill to prove the truth of so useful an assertion. But whether mankind would have ever believed it or not, it is not likely that any body could have persuaded them to disapprove