Laws
and government are to the political bodies of civil societies, what
the vital spirits and life itself are to the natural bodies of
animated creatures; and as those that study the anatomy of dead
carcases may see, that the chief organs and nicest springs more
immediately required to continue the motion of our machine, are not
hard bones, strong muscles and nerves, nor the smooth white skin,
that so beautifully covers them, but small trifling films, and
little
pipes, that are either overlooked or else seem inconsiderable to
vulgar eyes; so they that examine into the nature of man, abstract
from art and education, may observe, that what renders him a
sociable
animal, consists not in his desire of company, good nature, pity,
affability, and other graces of a fair outside; but that his vilest
and most hateful qualities are the most necessary accomplishments
to
fit him for the largest, and, according to the world, the happiest
and most flourishing societies.The
following Fable, in which what I have said is set forth at large,
was
printed above eight years ago1,
in a six penny pamphlet, called, The Grumbling Hive, or Knaves
turn’d
Honest; and being soon after pirated, cried about the streets in a
halfpenny sheet. Since the first publishing of it, I have met with
several that, either wilfully or ignorantly mistaking the design,
would have it, that the scope of it was a satire upon virtue and
morality, and the whole wrote for the encouragement of vice. This
made me resolve, whenever it should be reprinted, some way or other
to inform the reader of the real intent this little poem was wrote
with. I do not dignify these few loose lines with the name of Poem,
that I would have the reader expect any poetry in them, but barely
because they are rhyme, and I am in reality puzzled what name to
give
them; for they are neither heroic nor pastoral, satire, burlesque,
nor heroi-comic; to be a tale they want probability, and the whole
is
rather too long for a fable. All I can say of them is, that they
are
a story told in doggerel, which, without the least design of being
witty, I have endeavoured to do in as easy and familiar a manner as
I
was able: the reader shall be welcome to call them what he pleases.
Itwas
said of Montaigne, that he was pretty well versed in the defects
of
mankind, but unacquainted with the excellencies of human nature:
if I
fare no worse, I shall think myself well used.What
country soever in the universe is to be understood by the Bee-Hive
represented here, it is evident, from what is said of the laws and
constitution of it, the glory, wealth, power, and industry of its
inhabitants, that it must be a large, rich and warlike nation, that
is happily governed by a limited monarchy. The satire, therefore,
to
be met with in the following lines, upon the several professions
and
callings, and almost every degree and station of people, was not
made
to injure and point to particular persons, but only to show the
vileness of the ingredients that altogether compose the wholesome
mixture of a well-ordered society; in order to extol the wonderful
power of political wisdom, by the help of which so beautiful a
machine is raised from the most contemptible branches. For the main
design of the Fable (as it is briefly explained in the Moral), is
to
show the impossibility of enjoying all the most elegant comforts of
life, that are to be met with in an industrious, wealthy and
powerful
nation, and at the same time, be blessed with all the virtue and
innocence that can be wished for in a golden age; from thence to
expose the unreasonableness and folly of those, that desirous of
being an opulent and flourishing people, and wonderfully greedy
after
all the benefits they can receive as such, are yet always murmuring
at and exclaiming against those vices and inconveniences, that from
the beginning of the world to this present day, have been
inseparable
from all kingdoms and states, that ever were famed, for strength,
riches, and politeness, at the same time.To
do this, I first slightly touch upon some of the faults and
corruptions the several professions and callings are generally
charged with. After that I show that those very vices, of every
particular person, by skilful management, were made subservient to
the grandeur and worldly happiness of the whole. Lastly, by setting
forth what of necessity must be the consequence of general honesty
and virtue, and national temperance, innocence and content, I
demonstrate that if mankind could be cured of the failings they are
naturally guilty of, they would cease to be capable of being raised
into such vast potent and polite societies, as they havebeen
under the several great commonwealths and monarchies that have
flourished since the creation.If
you ask me, why I have done all this,
cui bono?
and what good these notions will produce? truly, besides the
reader’s
diversion, I believe none at all; but if I was asked what naturally
ought to be expected from them, I would answer, that, in the first
place, the people who continually find fault with others, by
reading
them, would be taught to look at home, and examining their own
consciences, be made ashamed of always railing at what they are
more
or less guilty of themselves; and that, in the next, those who are
so
fond of the ease and comforts, and reap all the benefits that are
the
consequence of a great and flourishing nation, would learn more
patiently to submit to those inconveniences, which no government
upon
earth can remedy, when they should see the impossibility of
enjoying
any great share of the first, without partaking likewise of the
latter.This,
I say, ought naturally to be expected from the publishing of these
notions, if people were to be made better by any thing that could
be
said to them; but mankind having for so many ages remained still
the
same, notwithstanding the many instructive and elaborate writings,
by
which their amendment has been endeavoured, I am not so vain as to
hope for better success from so inconsiderable a trifle.Having
allowed the small advantage this little whim is likely to produce,
I
think myself obliged to show that it cannot be prejudicial to any;
for what is published, if it does no good, ought at least to do no
harm: in order to this, I have made some explanatory notes, to
which
the reader will find himself referred in those passages that seem
to
be most liable to exceptions.The
censorious, that never saw the Grumbling Hive, will tell me, that
whatever I may talk of the Fable, it not taking up a tenth part of
the book, was only contrived to introduce the Remarks; that instead
of clearing up the doubtful or obscure places, I have only pitched
upon such as I had a mind to expatiate upon; and that far from
striving to extenuate the errors committed before, I have made bad
worse, and shown myself a more barefaced champion for vice, in the
rambling digressions, than I had done in the Fable itself.I
shall spend no time in answering these accusations: where men are
prejudiced, the best apologies are lost; and I know that those who
think it criminal to suppose a necessity ofvice
in any case whatever, will never be reconciled to any part of the
performance; but if this be thoroughly examined, all the offence
it
can give must result from the wrong inferences that may perhaps
be
drawn from it, and which I desire nobody to make. When I assert
that
vices are inseparable from great and potent societies, and that
it is
impossible their wealth and grandeur should subsist without, I do
not
say that the particular members of them who are guilty of any
should
not be continually reproved, or not be punished for them when
they
grow into crimes.There
are, I believe, few people in London, of those that are at any time
forced to go a-foot, but what could wish the streets of it much
cleaner than generally they are; while they regard nothing but
their
own clothes and private conveniency; but when once they come to
consider, that what offends them, is the result of the plenty,
great
traffic, and opulency of that mighty city, if they have any concern
in its welfare, they will hardly ever wish to see the streets of it
less dirty. For if we mind the materials of all sorts that must
supply such an infinite number of trades and handicrafts, as are
always going forward; the vast quantity of victuals, drink, and
fuel,
that are daily consumed in it; the waste and superfluities that
must
be produced from them; the multitudes of horses, and other cattle,
that are always dawbing the streets; the carts, coaches, and more
heavy carriages that are perpetually wearing and breaking the
pavement of them; and, above all, the numberless swarms of people
that are continually harassing and trampling through every part of
them: If, I say, we mind all these, we shall find, that every
moment
must produce new filth; and, considering how far distant the great
streets are from the river side, what cost and care soever be
bestowed to remove the nastiness almost as fast as it is made, it
is
impossible London should be more cleanly before it is less
flourishing. Now would I ask, if a good citizen, in consideration
of
what has been said, might not assert, that dirty streets are a
necessary evil, inseparable from the felicity of London, without
being the least hinderance to the cleaning of shoes, or sweeping of
streets, and consequently without any prejudice either to the
blackguard or the scavingers.But
if, without any regard to the interest or happiness of the city,
the
question was put, What place I thought most pleasant to walk in?
Nobody can doubt, but before thestinking
streets of London, I would esteem a fragrant garden, or a shady
grove
in the country. In the same manner, if laying aside all worldly
greatness and vain glory, I should be asked where I thought it
was
most probable that men might enjoy true happiness, I would prefer
a
small peaceable society, in which men, neither envied nor
esteemed by
neighbours, should be contented to live upon the natural product
of
the spot they inhabit, to a vast multitude abounding in wealth
and
power, that should always be conquering others by their arms
abroad,
and debauching themselves by foreign luxury at home.Thus
much I had said to the reader in the first edition; and have added
nothing by way of preface in the second. But since that, a violent
outcry has been made against the book, exactly answering the
expectation I always had of the justice, the wisdom, the charity,
and
fair-dealing of those whose good will I despaired of. It has been
presented by the Grand Jury, and condemned by thousands who never
saw
a word of it. It has been preached against before my Lord Mayor;
and
an utter refutation of it is daily expected from a reverend divine,
who has called me names in the advertisements, and threatened to
answer me in two months time for above five months together. What I
have to say for myself, the reader will see in my Vindication at
the
end of the book, where he will likewise find the Grand Jury’s
Presentment, and a letter to the Right Honourable Lord C. which is
very rhetorical beyond argument or connection. The author shows a
fine talent for invectives, and great sagacity in discovering
atheism, where others can find none. He is zealous against wicked
books, points at the Fable of the Bees, and is very angry with the
author: He bestows four strong epithets on the enormity of his
guilt,
and by several elegant innuendos to the multitude, as the danger
there is in suffering such authors to live, and the vengeance of
Heaven upon a whole nation, very charitably recommends him to their
care.Considering
the length of this epistle, and that it is not wholly levelled at
me
only, I thought at first to have made some extracts from it of what
related to myself; but finding, on a nearer inquiry, that what
concerned me was so blended and interwoven with what did not, I was
obliged to trouble the reader with it entire, not without hopes
that,
prolix as it is, the extravagancy of it will be entertaining to
those
who have perused the treatise it condemns with so much
horror.1This
was wrote in 1714. ↑THEGRUMBLING
HIVE:OR,KNAVES
TURN’D HONEST.A
spacious hive well stock’d with bees,That
liv’d in luxury and ease;And
yet as fam’d for laws and arms,As
yielding large and early swarms;Was
counted the great nursery
5Of
sciences and industry.No
bees had better government,More
fickleness, or less content:They
were not slaves to tyranny.Nor
rul’d by wild democracy;
10But
kings, that could not wrong, becauseTheir
power was circumscrib’d by laws.These
insects liv’d like men, and allOur
actions they performed in small:They
did whatever’s done in town,
15And
what belongs to sword or gown:Though
th’ artful works, by nimble slightOf
minute limbs, ’scap’d human sight;Yet
we’ve no engines, labourers,Ships,
castles, arms, artificers,
20Craft,
science, shop, or instrument,But
they had an equivalent:Which,
since their language is unknown,Must
be call’d, as we do our own.As
grant, that among other things,
25They
wanted dice, yet they had kings;And
those had guards; from whence we mayJustly
conclude, they had some play;Unless
a regiment be shownOf
soldiers, that make use of none.
30Vast
numbers throng’d the fruitful hive;Yet
those vast numbers made ’em thrive;Millions
endeavouring to supplyEach
other’s lust and vanity;While
other millions were employ’d,
35To
see their handy-works destroy’d;They
furnish’d half the universe;Yet
had more work than labourers.Some
with vast flocks, and little pains,Jump’d
into business of great gains;
40And
some were damn’d to scythes and spades,And
all those hard laborious trades;Where
willing wretches daily sweat,And
wear out strength and limbs to eat:While
others follow’d mysteries,
45To
which few folks binds ’prentices;That
want no stock, but that of brass,And
may set up without a cross;As
sharpers, parasites, pimps, players,Pickpockets,
coiners, quacks, soothsayers,
50And
all those, that in enmity,With
downright working, cunninglyConvert
to their own use the labourOf
their good-natur’d heedless neighbour.These
were call’d Knaves, but bar the name,
55The
grave industrious were the same:All
trades and places knew some cheat,No
calling was without deceit.The
lawyers, of whose art the basisWas
raising feuds and splitting cases,
60Oppos’d
all registers, that cheatsMight
make more work with dipt estates;As
were’t unlawful, that one’s own,Without
a law-suit, should be known.They
kept off hearings wilfully,
65To
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.
70Physicians
valu’d fame and wealthAbove
the drooping patient’s health,Or
their own skill: the greatest partStudy’d,
instead of rules of art,Grave
pensive looks and dull behaviour,
75To
gain th’ apothecary’s favour;The
praise of midwives, priests, and allThat
serv’d at birth or funeral.To
bear with th’ ever-talking tribe,And
hear my lady’s aunt prescribe;
80With
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,
85Hir’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 hideTheir
sloth, lust, avarice and pride;
90For
which they were as fam’d as tailorsFor
cabbage, or for brandy sailors,Some,
meagre-look’d, and meanly clad,Would
mystically pray for bread,Meaning
by that an ample store,
95Yet
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 gracesOf
health and plenty in their faces.
100The
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;
105Others
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;
110While
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,
115Robbing
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;
120And
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
125Get
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 ownBefore
the losers that they’ve won.
130But
who can all their frauds repeat?The
very stuff which in the streetThey
sold for dirt t’ enrich the ground,Was
often by the buyers foundSophisticated
with a quarter
135Of
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;
140Her
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,
145In
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 boreCheck’d
but the desp’rate and the poor;
150That,
urg’d by mere necessity,Were
ty’d up to the wretched treeFor
crimes, which not deserv’d that fate,But
to secure the rich and great.Thus
every part was full of vice,
155Yet
the whole mass a paradise;Flatter’d
in peace, and fear’d in warsThey
were th’ esteem of foreigners,And
lavish of their wealth and lives,The
balance of all other hives.
160Such
were the blessings of that state;Their
crimes conspir’d to make them great:And
virtue, who from politicsHas
learn’d a thousand cunning tricks,Was,
by their happy influence,
165Made
friends with vice: And ever since,The
worst of all the multitudeDid
something for the common good.This
was the state’s craft, that maintain’dThe
whole of which each part complain’d:
170This,
as in music harmonyMade
jarrings in the main agree,Parties
directly opposite,Assist
each other, as ’twere for spite;And
temp’rance with sobriety,
175Serve
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
180Employ’d
a million of the poor,And
odious pride a million more:Envy
itself, and vanity,Were
ministers of industry;Their
darling folly, fickleness,
185In
diet, furniture, and dress,That
strange ridic’lous vice, was madeThe
very wheel that turn’d the trade.Their
laws and clothes were equallyObjects
of mutability!
190For,
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
195Faults,
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;
205And
that perfection here belowIs
more than gods can well bestow;The
grumbling brutes had been contentWith
ministers and government.But
they, at every ill success,
210Like
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.
215One,
that had got a princely store,By
cheating master, king, and poor,Dar’d
cry aloud, the land must sinkFor
all its fraud; and whom d’ye thinkThe
sermonizing rascal chid?
220A
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!
225Merc’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
230The
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;
235Which
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,
240That
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.
245The
mask hypocrisy’s sitting down,From
the great statesman to the clown:And
in some borrow’d looks well known,Appear’d
like strangers in their own.The
bar was silent from that day;
250For
now the willing debtors pay,Ev’n
what’s by creditors forgot;Who
quitted them that had it not.Those
that were in the wrong, stood mute,And
dropt the patch’d vexatious suit:
255On
which since nothing else can thrive,Than
lawyers in an honest hive,All,
except those that got enough,With
inkhorns by their sides troop’d off.Justice
hang’d some, set others free;
260And
after gaol delivery,Her
presence being no more requir’d,With
all her train and pomp retir’d.First
march’d some smiths with locks and grates,Fetters,
and doors with iron plates:
265Next
gaolers, turnkeys and assistants:Before
the goddess, at some distance,Her
chief and faithful minister,
’
Squire
Catch, the law’s great finisher,Bore
not th’ imaginary sword,
270But
his own tools, an ax and cord:Then
on a cloud the hood-wink’d fair,Justice
herself was push’d by air:About
her chariot, and behind,Were
serjeants, bums of every kind,
275Tip-staffs,
and all those officers,That
squeeze a living out of tears.Though
physic liv’d, while folks were ill,None
would prescribe, but bees of skill,Which
through the hive dispers’d so wide,
280That
none of them had need to ride;Wav’d
vain disputes, and strove to freeThe
patients of their misery;Left
drugs in cheating countries grown,And
us’d the product of their own;
285Knowing
the gods sent no disease,To
nations without remedies.Their
clergy rous’d from laziness,Laid
not their charge on journey-bees;But
serv’d themselves, exempt from vice,
290The
gods with pray’r and sacrifice;All
those, that were unfit, or knew,Their
service might be spar’d, withdrew:Nor
was their business for so many,(If
th’ honest stand in need of any,)
295Few
only with the high-priest staid,To
whom the rest obedience paid:Himself
employ’d in holy cares;Resign’d
to others state-affairs.He
chas’d no starv’ling from his door,
300Nor
pinch’d the wages of the poor:
But
at his house the hungry’s fed,
The
hireling finds unmeasur’d bread,The
needy trav’ller board and bed.Among
the king’s great ministers,
305And
all th’ inferior officers,The
change was great; for frugallyThey
now liv’d on their salary:That
a poor bee should ten times comeTo
ask his due, a trifling sum,
310And
by some well-hir’d clerk be madeTo
give a crown, or ne’er be paid,Would
now be call’d a downright cheat,Though
formerly a perquisite.All
places manag’d first by three,
315Who
watch’d each other’s knaveryAnd
often for a fellow-feeling,Promoted
one another’s stealing,Are
happily supply’d by one,By
which some thousands more are gone.
320No
honour now could be content,To
live and owe for what was spent;Liv’ries
in brokers shops are hung,They
part with coaches for a song;Sell
stately horses by whole sets;
325And
country-houses, to pay debts.Vain
cost is shunn’d as much as fraud;They
have no forces kept abroad;Laugh
at th’ esteem of foreigners,And
empty glory got by wars;
330They
fight but for their country’s sake,When
right or liberty’s at stake.Now
mind the glorious hive, and seeHow
honesty and trade agree.The
show is gone, it thins apace;
335And
looks with quite another face.For
’twas not only that they went,By
whom vast sums were yearly spent;But
multitudes that liv’d on them,Were
daily forc’d to do the same.
340In
vain to other trades they’d fly;All
were o’er-stock’d accordingly.The
price of land and houses falls;Mirac’lous
palaces, whose walls,Like
those of Thebes, were rais’d by play,
345Are
to be let; while the once gay,Well-seated
household gods would beMore
pleas’d to expire in flames, than seeThe
mean inscription on the doorSmile
at the lofty ones they bore.
350The
building trade is quite destroy’d,Artificers
are not employ’d;No
limner for his art is fam’d,Stone-cutters,
carvers are not nam’d.Those,
that remain’d, grown temp’rate, strive,
355Not
how to spend, but how to live;And,
when they paid their tavern score,Resolv’d
to enter it no more:No
vintner’s jilt in all the hiveCould
wear now cloth of gold, and thrive;
360Nor
Torcol such vast sums advance,For
Burgundy and Ortolans;The
courtier’s gone that with his missSupp’d
at his house on Christmas peas;Spending
as much in two hours stay,
365As
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;
370Contracts
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,
375And
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;
380But
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
385Remove
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.
390So
few in the vast hive remain,The
hundredth part they can’t maintainAgainst
th’ insults of numerous foes;Whom
yet they valiantly oppose:
’
Till
some well fenc’d retreat is found,
395And
here they die or stand their ground.No
hireling in their army’s known;But
bravely fighting for their own,Their
courage and integrityAt
last were crown’d with victory.
400They
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;
405That,
to avoid extravagance,They
flew into a hollow tree,Blest
with content and honesty.THE
MORAL.Then
leave complaints: fools only striveTo
make a great an honest hive.
410T’
enjoy the world’s conveniences,Be
fam’d in war, yet live in ease,Without
great vices, is a vainEutopia
seated in the brain.Fraud,
luxury, and pride must live,
415While
we the benefits receive:Hunger’s
a dreadful plague, no doubt,Yet
who digests or thrives without?Do
we not owe the growth of wineTo
the dry shabby crooked vine?
420Which,
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,
425When
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
430In
splendor; they, that would reviveA
golden age, must be as free,For
acorns as for honesty.
433