The Fable of the Bees
The Fable of the BeesPREFACE.THE INTRODUCTION.AN INQUIRY INTO THE ORIGIN OF MORAL VIRTUE.AN ESSAY ON CHARITY, AND CHARITY-SCHOOLS.A SEARCH INTO THE NATURE OF SOCIETY.A VINDICATION OF THE Book, from the Aspersions contained in a Presentment of the Grand Jury of Middlesex, And an Abusive Letter to Lord C——THE FABLE OF THE BEES.PREFACE.THE FIRST DIALOGUE. BETWEEN HORATIO, CLEOMENES, and FULVIA.THE SECOND DIALOGUE BETWEEN HORATIO AND CLEOMENESTHE THIRD DIALOGUE BETWEEN HORATIO AND CLEOMENES.THE FOURTH DIALOGUE BETWEEN HORATIO AND CLEOMENES.THE FIFTH DIALOGUE BETWEEN HORATIO AND CLEOMENES.THE SIXTH DIALOGUE BETWEEN HORATIO AND CLEOMENESCopyright
The Fable of the Bees
Bernard Mandeville
PREFACE.
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 nursery5Of 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 would125Get 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 quarter135Of 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 luxury180Employ’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 inconstancy195Faults, 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 rid230The 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 companies385Remove 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 live430In splendor; they, that would reviveA golden age, must be as free,For acorns as for honesty.433
THE INTRODUCTION.
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.
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 of
their natural inclinations, or prefer the good of others to their
own, if, at the same time, he had not showed them an equivalent to
be enjoyed as a reward for the violence, which, by so doing, they
of necessity must commit upon themselves. Those that have
undertaken to civilize mankind, were not ignorant of this; but
being unable to give so many real rewardsas would satisfy all persons for every individual action,
they were forced to contrive an imaginary one, that, as a general
equivalent for the trouble of self-denial, should serve on all
occasions, and without costing any thing either to themselves or
others, be yet a most acceptable recompence to the
receivers.They thoroughly examined all the strength and frailties of
our nature, and observing that none were either so savage as not to
be charmed with praise, or so despicable as patiently to bear
contempt, justly concluded, that flattery must be the most powerful
argument that could be used to human creatures. Making use of this
bewitching engine, they extolled the excellency of our nature above
other animals, and setting forth with unbounded praises the wonders
of our sagacity and vastness of understanding, bestowed a thousand
encomiums on the rationality of our souls, by the help of which we
were capable of performing the most noble achievements. Having, by
this artful way of flattery, insinuated themselves into the hearts
of men, they began to instruct them in the notions of honour and
shame; representing the one as the worst of all evils, and the
other as the highest good to which mortals could aspire: which
being done, they laid before them how unbecoming it was the dignity
of such sublime creatures to be solicitous about gratifying those
appetites, which they had in common with brutes, and at the same
time unmindful of those higher qualities that gave them the
pre-eminence over all visible beings. They indeed confessed, that
those impulses of nature were very pressing; that it was
troublesome to resist, and very difficult wholly to subdue them.
But this they only used as an argument to demonstrate, how glorious
the conquest of them was on the one hand, and how scandalous on the
other not to attempt it.To introduce, moreover, an emulation amongst men, they
divided the whole species into two classes, vastly differing from
one another: the one consisted of abject, low-minded people, that
always hunting after immediate enjoyment, were wholly incapable of
self-denial, and without regard to the good of others, had no
higher aim than their private advantage; such as being enslaved by
voluptuousness, yielded without resistance to every gross desire,
and make no use of their rational faculties but to heighten their
sensual pleasure. These wild grovelling wretches, they said, were
the dross of their kind, and having only the shape of men, differed
frombrutes in nothing but their outward figure. But the other
class was made up of lofty high-spirited creatures, that, free from
sordid selfishness, esteemed the improvements of the mind to be
their fairest possessions; and, setting a true value upon
themselves, took no delight but in embellishing that part in which
their excellency consisted; such as despising whatever they had in
common with irrational creatures, opposed by the help of reason
their most violent inclinations; and making a continual war with
themselves, to promote the peace of others, aimed at no less than
the public welfare, and the conquest of their own
passion.Fortior est qui se quàm qui fortissima VincitMœnia —— ——These they called the true representatives of their sublime
species, exceeding in worth the first class by more degrees, than
that itself was superior to the beasts of the field.As in all animals that are not too imperfect to discover
pride, we find, that the finest, and such as are the most beautiful
and valuable of their kind, have generally the greatest share of
it; so in man, the most perfect of animals, it is so inseparable
from his very essence (how cunningly soever some may learn to hide
or disguise it), that without it the compound he is made of would
want one of the chiefest ingredients: which, if we consider, it is
hardly to be doubted but lessons and remonstrances, so skilfully
adapted to the good opinion man has of himself, as those I have
mentioned, must, if scattered amongst a multitude, not only gain
the assent of most of them, as to the speculative part, but
likewise induce several, especially the fiercest, most resolute,
and best among them, to endure a thousand inconveniences, and
undergo as many hardships, that they may have the pleasure of
counting themselves men of the second class, and consequently
appropriating to themselves all the excellencies they have heard of
it.From what has been said, we ought to expect, in the first
place, that the heroes who took such extraordinary pains to master
some of their natural appetites, and preferred the good of others
to any visible interest of their own, would not recede an inch from
the fine notions they had received concerning the dignity of
rational creatures; and having ever the authority of the government
on their side, with all imaginable vigour assert the esteem that
was due to those of thesecond class, as well as their superiority over the rest of
their kind. In the second, that those who wanted a sufficient stock
of either pride or resolution, to buoy them up in mortifying of
what was dearest to them, followed the sensual dictates of nature,
would yet be ashamed of confessing themselves to be those
despicable wretches that belonged to the inferior class, and were
generally reckoned to be so little removed from brutes; and that
therefore, in their own defence, they would say, as others did, and
hiding their own imperfections as well as they could, cry up
self-denial and public spiritedness as much as any: for it is
highly probable, that some of them, convinced by the real proofs of
fortitude and self-conquest they had seen, would admire in others
what they found wanting in themselves; others be afraid of the
resolution and prowess of those of the second class, and that all
of them were kept in awe by the power of their rulers; wherefore is
it reasonable to think, that none of them (whatever they thought in
themselves) would dare openly contradict, what by every body else
was thought criminal to doubt of.This was (or at least might have been) the manner after which
savage man was broke; from whence it is evident, that the first
rudiments of morality, broached by skilful politicians, to render
men useful to each other, as well as tractable, were chiefly
contrived, that the ambitious might reap the more benefit from, and
govern vast numbers of them with the greater ease and security.
This foundation of politics being once laid, it is impossible that
man should long remain uncivilized: for even those who only strove
to gratify their appetites, being continually crossed by others of
the same stamp, could not but observe, that whenever they checked
their inclinations or but followed them with more circumspection,
they avoided a world of troubles, and often escaped many of the
calamities that generally attended the too eager pursuit after
pleasure.First, they received, as well as others, the benefit of those
actions that were done for the good of the whole society, and
consequently could not forbear wishing well to those of the
superior class that performed them. Secondly, the more intent they
were in seeking their own advantage, without regard to others, the
more they were hourly convinced, that none stood so much in their
way as those that were most like themselves.It being the interest then of the very worst of them, more
than any, to preach up public-spiritedness, that they might reap
the fruits of the labour and self-denial of others, and at the same
time indulge their own appetites with less disturbance, they agreed
with the rest, to call every thing, which, without regard to the
public, man should commit to gratify any of his appetites, vice; if
in that action there could be observed the least prospect, that it
might either be injurious to any of the society, or ever render
himself less serviceable to others: and to give the name of virtue
to every performance, by which man, contrary to the impulse of
nature, should endeavour the benefit of others, or the conquest of
his own passions, out of a rational ambition of being
good.It shall be objected, that no society was ever any ways
civilized before the major part had agreed upon some worship or
other of an over-ruling power, and consequently that the notions of
good and evil, and the distinction between virtue and vice, were
never the contrivance of politicians, but the pure effect of
religion. Before I answer this objection, I must repeat what I have
said already, that in this inquiry into the origin of moral virtue,
I speak neither of Jews or Christians, but man in his state of
nature and ignorance of the true Deity; and then I affirm, that the
idolatrous superstitions of all other nations, and the pitiful
notions they had of the Supreme Being, were incapable of exciting
man to virtue, and good for nothing but to awe and amuse a rude and
unthinking multitude. It is evident from history, that in all
considerable societies, how stupid or ridiculous soever people’s
received notions have been, as to the deities they worshipped,
human nature has ever exerted itself in all its branches, and that
there is no earthly wisdom or moral virtue, but at one time or
other men have excelled in it in all monarchies and commonwealths,
that for riches and power have been any ways
remarkable.The Egyptians, not satisfied with having deified all the ugly
monsters they could think on, were so silly as to adore the onions
of their own sowing; yet at the same time their country was the
most famous nursery of arts and sciences in the world, and
themselves more eminently skilled in the deepest mysteries of
nature than any nation has been since.No states or kingdoms under heaven have yielded more or
greater patterns in all sorts of moral virtues, than the
Greekand Roman empires, more especially the latter; and yet how
loose, absurd and ridiculous were their sentiments as to sacred
matters? For without reflecting on the extravagant number of their
deities, if we only consider the infamous stories they fathered
upon them, it is not to be denied but that their religion, far from
teaching men the conquest of their passions, and the way to virtue,
seemed rather contrived to justify their appetites, and encourage
their vices. But if we would know what made them excel in
fortitude, courage, and magnanimity, we must cast our eyes on the
pomp of their triumphs, the magnificence of their monuments and
arches; their trophies, statues, and inscriptions; the variety of
their military crowns, their honours decreed to the dead, public
encomiums on the living, and other imaginary rewards they bestowed
on men of merit; and we shall find, that what carried so many of
them to the utmost pitch of self-denial, was nothing but their
policy in making use of the most effectual means that human pride
could be flattered with.It is visible, then, that it was not any heathen religion, or
other idolatrous superstition, that first put man upon crossing his
appetites and subduing his dearest inclinations, but the skilful
management of wary politicians; and the nearer we search into human
nature, the more we shall be convinced, that the moral virtues are
the political offspring which flattery begot upon
pride.There is no man, of what capacity or penetration soever, that
is wholly proof against the witchcraft of flattery, if artfully
performed, and suited to his abilities. Children and fools will
swallow personal praise, but those that are more cunning, must be
managed with much greater circumspection; and the more general the
flattery is, the less it is suspected by those it is levelled at.
What you say in commendation of a whole town is received with
pleasure by all the inhabitants: speak in commendation of letters
in general, and every man of learning will think himself in
particular obliged to you. You may safely praise the employment a
man is of, or the country he was born in; because you give him an
opportunity of screening the joy he feels upon his own account,
under the esteem which he pretends to have for others.It is common among cunning men, that understand the power
which flattery has upon pride, when they are afraid they shall be
imposed upon, to enlarge, though much againsttheir conscience, upon the honour, fair dealing, and
integrity of the family, country, or sometimes the profession of
him they suspect; because they know that men often will change
their resolution, and act against their inclination, that they may
have the pleasure of continuing to appear in the opinion of some,
what they are conscious not to be in reality. Thus sagacious
moralists draw men like angels, in hopes that the pride at least of
some will put them upon copying after the beautiful originals which
they are represented to be.When the incomparable Sir Richard Steele, in the usual
elegance of his easy style, dwells on the praises of his sublime
species, and with all the embellishments of rhetoric, sets forth
the excellency of human nature, it is impossible not to be charmed
with his happy turns of thought, and the politeness of his
expressions. But though I have been often moved by the force of his
eloquence, and ready to swallow the ingenious sophistry with
pleasure, yet I could, never be so serious, but, reflecting on his
artful encomiums, I thought on the tricks made use of by the women
that would teach children to be mannerly. When an awkward girl
before she can either speak or go, begins after many entreaties to
make the first rude essays of curtseying, the nurse falls in an
ecstacy of praise; “There is a delicate curtsey! O fine Miss! there
is a pretty lady! Mamma! Miss can make a better curtsey than her
sister Molly!” The same is echoed over by the maids, whilst Mamma
almost hugs the child to pieces; only Miss Molly, who being four
years older, knows how to make a very handsome curtsey, wonders at
the perverseness of their judgment, and swelling with indignation,
is ready to cry at the injustice that is done her, till, being
whispered in the ear that it is only to please the baby, and that
she is a woman, she grows proud at being let into the secret, and
rejoicing at the superiority of her understanding, repeats what has
been said with large additions, and insults over the weakness of
her sister, whom all this while she fancies to be the only bubble
among them. These extravagant praises would by any one, above the
capacity of an infant, be called fulsome flatteries, and, if you
will, abominable lies; yet experience teaches us, that by the help
of such gross encomiums, young misses will be brought to make
pretty curtesies, and behave themselves womanly much sooner, and
with less trouble, than they would without them. It is the same
with boys, whom they will strive to persuade, that all fine
gentlemen do as they arebid, and that none but beggar boys are rude, or dirty their
clothes; nay, as soon as the wild brat with his untaught fist
begins to fumble for his hat, the mother, to make him pull it off,
tells him before he is two years old, that he is a man; and if he
repeats that action when she desires him, he is presently a
captain, a lord mayor, a king, or something higher if she can think
of it, till edged on by the force of praise, the little urchin
endeavours to imitate man as well as he can, and strains all his
faculties to appear what his shallow noddle imagines he is believed
to be.The meanest wretch puts an inestimable value upon himself,
and the highest wish of the ambitious man is to have all the world,
as to that particular, of his opinion: so that the most insatiable
thirst after fame that ever heroe was inspired with, was never more
than an ungovernable greediness to engross the esteem and
admiration of others in future ages as well as his own; and (what
mortification soever this truth might be to the second thoughts of
an Alexander or a Cæsar) the great recompense in view, for which
the most exalted minds have with so much alacrity sacrificed their
quiet, health, sensual pleasures, and every inch of themselves, has
never been any thing else but the breath of man, the aerial coin of
praise. Who can forbear laughing when he thinks on all the great
men that have been so serious on the subject of that Macedonian
madman, his capacious soul, that mighty heart, in one corner of
which, according to Lorenzo Gratian, the world was so commodiously
lodged, that in the whole there was room for six more? Who can
forbear laughing, I say, when he compares the fine things that have
been said of Alexander, with the end he proposed to himself from
his vast exploits, to be proved from his own mouth; when the vast
pains he took to pass the Hydaspes forced him to cry out? Oh ye
Athenians, could you believe what dangers I expose myself to, to be
praised by you! To define then, the reward of glory in the amplest
manner, the most that can be said of it, is, that it consists in a
superlative felicity which a man, who is conscious of having
performed a noble action, enjoys in self-love, whilst he is
thinking on the applause he expects of others.But here I shall be told, that besides the noisy toils of war
and public bustle of the ambitious, there are noble and generous
actions that are performed in silence; that virtue being its own
reward, those who are really good, have a satisfactionin their consciousness of being so, which is all the
recompence they expect from the most worthy performances; that
among the heathens there have been men, who, when they did good to
others, were so far from coveting thanks and applause, that they
took all imaginable care to be for ever concealed from those on
whom they bestowed their benefits, and consequently that pride has
no hand in spurring man on to the highest pitch of
self-denial.In answer to this, I say, that it is impossible to judge of a
man’s performance, unless we are thoroughly acquainted with the
principle and motive from which he acts. Pity, though it is the
most gentle and the least mischievous of all our passions, is yet
as much a frailty of our nature, as anger, pride, or fear. The
weakest minds have generally the greatest share of it, for which
reason none are more compassionate than women and children. It must
be owned, that of all our weaknesses, it is the most amiable, and
bears the greatest resemblance to virtue; nay, without a
considerable mixture of it, the society could hardly subsist: but
as it is an impulse of nature, that consults neither the public
interest nor our own reason, it may produce evil as well as good.
It has helped to destroy the honour of virgins, and corrupted the
integrity of judges; and whoever acts from it as a principle, what
good soever he may bring to the society, has nothing to boast of,
but that he has indulged a passion that has happened to be
beneficial to the public. There is no merit in saving an innocent
babe ready to drop into the fire: the action is neither good nor
bad, and what benefit soever the infant received, we only obliged
ourselves; for to have seen it fall, and not strove to hinder it,
would have caused a pain, which self preservation compelled us to
prevent: Nor has a rich prodigal, that happens to be of a
commiserating temper, and loves to gratify his passions, greater
virtue to boast of, when he relieves an object of compassion with
what to himself is a trifle.But such men, as without complying with any weakness of their
own, can part from what they value themselves, and, from no other
motive but there love to goodness, perform a worthy action in
silence: such men, I confess, have acquired more refined notions of
virtue than those I have hitherto spoke of; yet even in these (with
which the world has yet never swarmed) we may discover no small
symptoms of pride, and the humblest man alive must confess, that
the reward of a virtuous action, which is the satisfaction that
ensues upon it,consists in a certain pleasure he procures to himself by
contemplating on his own worth: which pleasure, together with the
occasion of it, are as certain signs of pride, as looking pale and
trembling at any imminent danger, are the symptoms of
fear.If the too scrupulous reader should at first view condemn
these notions concerning the origin of moral virtue, and think them
perhaps offensive to Christianity, I hope he will forbear his
censures, when he shall consider, that nothing can render the
unsearchable depth of the Divine Wisdom more conspicuous, than that
man, whom Providence had designed for society, should not only by
his own frailties and imperfections, be led into the road to
temporal happiness, but likewise receive, from a seeming necessity
of natural causes, a tincture of that knowledge, in which he was
afterwards to be made perfect by the true religion, to his eternal
welfare.REMARKS.Line 45. Whilst others follow’d mysteries,To which few folks bind ’prentices.In the education of youth, in order to their getting of a
livelihood when they shall be arrived at maturity, most people look
out for some warrantable employment or other, of which there are
whole bodies or companies, in every large society of men. By this
means, all arts and sciences, as well as trades and handicrafts,
are perpetuated in the commonwealth, as long as they are found
useful; the young ones that are daily brought up to them,
continually supplying the loss of the old ones that die. But some
of these employments being vastly more creditable than others,
according to the great difference of the charges required to set up
in each of them, all prudent parents, in the choice of them,
chiefly consult their own abilities, and the circumstances they are
in. A man that gives three or four hundred pounds with his son to a
great merchant, and has not two or three thousand pounds to spare
against he is out of his time to begin business with, is much to
blame not to have brought his child up to something that might be
followed with less money.There are abundance of men of a genteel education, that have
but very small revenues, and yet are forced, by their reputable
callings, to make a greater figure than ordinary people of twice
their income. If these have any children, it often happens, that as
their indigence renders them incapable of bringing them up to
creditable occupations, so their pride makes them unwilling to put
them out to any of the mean laborious trades, and then, in hopes
either of an alteration in their fortune, or that some friends, or
favourable opportunity shall offer, they from time to time put off
the disposing of them, until insensibly they come to be of age, and
are at last brought up to nothing. Whether this neglect be more
barbarous to the children, or prejudicial to the society, I shall
not determine. At Athens all children were forced to assist their
parents, if they came to want: But Solon made a law, that no son
should be obliged to relieve his father, who had not bred him up to
any calling.Some parents put out their sons to good trades very
suitableto their then present abilities, but happen to die, or fail
in the world, before their children have finished their
apprenticeships, or are made fit for the business they are to
follow: A great many young men again, on the other hand, are
handsomely provided for and set up for themselves, that yet (some
for want of industry, or else a sufficient knowledge in their
callings, others by indulging their pleasures, and some few by
misfortunes) are reduced to poverty, and altogether unable to
maintain themselves by the business they were brought up to. It is
impossible but that the neglects, mismanagements, and misfortunes I
named, must very frequently happen in populous places, and
consequently great numbers of people be daily flung unprovided for
into the wide world, how rich and potent a commonwealth may be, or
what care soever a government may take to hinder it. How must these
people be disposed of? The sea, I know, and armies, which the world
is seldom without, will take off some. Those that are honest
drudges, and of a laborious temper, will become journeymen to the
trades they are of, or enter into some other service: such of them
as studied and were sent to the university, may become
schoolmasters, tutors, and some few of them get into some office or
other: But what must become of the lazy, that care for no manner of
working, and the fickle, that hate to be confined to any
thing?Those that ever took delight in plays and romances, and have
a spice of gentility, will, in all probability, throw their eyes
upon the stage, and if they have a good elocution, with tolerable
mien, turn actors. Some that love their bellies above any thing
else, if they have a good palate, and a little knack at cookery,
will strive to get in with gluttons and epicures, learn to cringe
and bear all manner of usage, and so turn parasites, ever
flattering the master, and making mischief among the rest of the
family. Others, who by their own and companions lewdness, judge of
people’s incontinence, will naturally fall to intriguing, and
endeavour to live by pimping for such as either want leisure or
address to speak for themselves. Those of the most abandoned
principles of all, if they are sly and dexterous, turn sharpers,
pick-pockets, or coiners, if their skill and ingenuity give them
leave. Others again, that have observed the credulity of simple
women, and other foolish people, if they have impudence and a
little cunning, either set up for doctors, or else pretend
totell fortunes; and every one turning the vices and frailties
of others to his own advantage, endeavours to pick up a living the
easiest and shortest way his talents and abilities will let
him.These are certainly the bane of civil society; but they are
fools, who, not considering what has been said, storm at the
remissness of the laws that suffer them to live, while wise men
content themselves with taking all imaginable care not to be
circumvented by them, without quarrelling at what no human prudence
can prevent.Line 55. These we call’d Knaves, but bar the
name,The grave industrious were the same.This, I confess, is but a very indifferent compliment to all
the trading part of the people. But if the word Knave may be
understood in its full latitude, and comprehend every body that is
not sincerely honest, and does to others what he would dislike to
have done to himself, I do not question but I shall make good the
charge. To pass by the innumerable artifices, by which buyers and
sellers outwit one another, that are daily allowed of and practised
among the fairest of dealers, show me the tradesmen that has always
discovered the defects of his goods to those that cheapened them;
nay, where will you find one that has not at one time or other
industriously concealed them, to the detriment of the buyer? Where
is the merchant that has never, against his conscience, extolled
his wares beyond their worth, to make them go off the
better.Decio, a man of great figure, that had large commissions for
sugar from several parts beyond sea, treats about a considerable
parcel of that commodity with Alcander, an eminent West India
merchant; both understood the market very well, but could not
agree: Decio was a man of substance, and thought no body ought to
buy cheaper than himself; Alcander was the same, and not wanting
money, stood for his price. While they were driving their bargain
at a tavern near the exchange, Alcander’s man brought his master a
letter from the West Indies, that informed him of a much greater
quantity of sugars coming for England than was expected. Alcander
now wished for nothing more than to sell at Decio’s price, before
the news was public; but being a cunning fox, that he might not
seem too precipitant,