Bernard Mandeville, "The Grumbling Hive"

THE
Grumbling Hive:
OR,

K N A V E S

Turn’d HONEST.

	A Spacious Hive well stock’d with Bees,
	That lived in Luxury and Ease;
	And yet as fam’d for Laws and Arms,
	As yielding large and early Swarms;
5	Was counted the great Nursery
	Of Sciences and Industry.
	No Bees had better Government,
	More Fickleness, or less Content.
	They were not Slaves to Tyranny,
10	Nor ruled by wild Democracy;
	But Kings, that could not wrong, because
	Their Power was circumscrib’d by Laws.

	These Insects lived like Men, and all
	Our Actions they perform’d in small:
15	They did whatever’s done in Town,
	And what belongs to Sword, or Gown:
	Tho’ th’Artful Works, by nible Slight;
	Of minute Limbs, ’scaped Human Sight
	Yet we’ve no Engines; Labourers,
20	Ships, Castles, Arms, Artificers,°	craftsmen
	Craft, Science, Shop, or Instrument,
	But they had an Equivalent:
	Which, since their Language is unknown,
	Must be call’d, as we do our own.
25	As grant, that among other Things
	They wanted Dice, yet they had Kings;
	And those had Guards; from whence we may
	Justly conclude, they had some Play;
	Unless a Regiment be shewn
30	Of Soldiers, that make use of none.

	Vast Numbers thronged the fruitful Hive;
	Yet those vast Numbers made ’em thrive;
	Millions endeavouring to supply
	Each other’s Lust and Vanity;
35	Whilst other Millions were employ’d,
	To see their Handy-works destroy’d;
	They furnish’d half the Universe;
	Yet had more Work than Labourers.
	Some with vast Stocks, and little Pains
40	Jump’d into Business of great Gains;
	And some were damn’d to Sythes and Spades,
	And all those hard laborious Trades;
	Where willing Wretches daily sweat,
	And wear out Strength and Limbs to eat:
45	Whilst others follow’d Mysteries,
	To which few Folks bind Prentices;
	That want no Stock, but that of Brass,
	And may set up without a Cross;
	As Sharpers, Parasites, Pimps, Players,
50	Pick-Pockets, Coiners, Quacks, Sooth-Sayers,
	And all those, that, in Enmity
	With down-right Working, cunningly
	Convert to their own Use the Labour
	Of their good-natur’d heedless Neighbour:
55	These were called Knaves; but, bar the Name,
	The grave Industrious were the Same.
	All Trades and Places knew some Cheat,
	No Calling was without Deceit.

	The Lawyers, of whose Art the Basis
60	Was raising Feuds and splitting Cases,
	Opposed all Registers, that Cheats
	Might make more Work with dipt Estates;
	As were’t unlawful, that one’s own,
	Without a Law-Suit, should be known.
65	They kept off Hearings wilfully,
	To finger the retaining Fee;
	And to defend a wicked Cause,
	Examin’d and survey’d the Laws;
	As Burglars Shops and Houses do;
70	To find out where they’d best break through.

	Physicians valued Fame and Wealth
	Above the drooping Patient’s Health,
	Or their own Skill: The greatest Part
	Study’d, instead of Rules of Art,
75	Grave pensive Looks, and dull Behaviour;
	To gain th’Apothecary’s Favour,
	The Praise of Mid wives, Priests and all,
	That served at Birth, or Funeral;
	To bear with th’ever-talking Tribe,
80	And hear my Lady’s Aunt prescribe;
	With formal Smile, and kind How d’ye,
	To fawn on all the Family;
	And, which of all the greatest Curse is,
	T’endure th’Impertinence of Nurses.

85	Among the many Priests of Jove,
	Hir’d to draw Blessings from Above,
	Some few were learn’d and eloquent,
	But Thousands hot and ignorant:
	Yet all past Muster, that could hide
90	Their Sloth, Lust, Avarice and Pride;
	For which, they were as famed, as Taylors
	For Cabbage; or for Brandy, Sailors:
	Some meagre look’d, and meanly clad
	Would mystically pray for Bread,
95	Meaning by that an ample Store,
	Yet lit’rally receiv’d no more;
	And, whilst these holy Drudges starv’d,
	Some lazy Ones, for which they serv’d,
	Indulg’d their Ease, with all the Graces
100	Of Health and Plenty in their Faces.

	The Soldiers, that were forced to fight,
	If they survived, got Honour by’t;
	Tho’ some, that shunn’d the bloody Fray,
	Had Limbs shot off, that ran away:
105	Some valiant Gen’rals fought the Foe;
	Others took Bribes to let them go:
	Some ventur’d always, where ’twas warm;
	Lost now a Leg, and then an Arm;
	Till quite disabled, and put by,
110	They lived on half their Salary;
	Whilst others never came in Play,
	And staid at Home for Double Pay.

	Their Kings were serv’d; but Knavishly
	Cheated by their own Ministry;
115	Many, that for their Welfare slaved,
	Robbing the very Crown they saved:
	Pensions were small, and they lived high,
	Yet boasted of their Honesty.
	Calling, whene’er they strain’d their Right,
120	The slipp’ry Trick a Perquisite;
	And, when Folks understood their Cant,°	jargon
	They chang’d that for Emolument;
	Unwilling to be short, or plain,
	In any thing concerning Gain:
125	For there was not a Bee, but would
	Get more, I won’t say, than he should;
	But than he dared to let them know,
	That pay’d for’t; as your Gamesters do,
	That, tho’ at fair Play, ne’er will own
130	Before the Losers what they’ve won.

	But who can all their Frauds repeat!
	The very Stuff, which in the Street
	They sold for Dirt t’enrich the Ground,
	Was often by the Buyers sound
135	Sophisticated with a Quarter
	Of Good-for-nothing, Stones and Mortar;
	Tho’ Flail had little Cause to mutter,
	Who sold the other Salt for Butter.

	Justice her self, famed for fair Dealing,
140	By Blindness had not lost her Feeling;
	Her Left Hand, which the Scales should hold,
	Had often dropt ’em, bribed with Gold;
	And, tho’ she seem’d impartial,
	Where Punishment was corporal,
145	Pretended to a reg’lar Course,
	In Murther, and all Crimes of Force;
	Tho’ some, first Pillory’d for Cheating,
	Were hang’d in Hemp of their own beating;
	Yet, it was thought, the Sword the bore
150	Check’d but the Desp’rate and the Poor;
	That, urg’d by mere Necessity,
	Were tied up to the wretched Tree
	For Crimes, which not deserv’d that Fate,
	But to secure the Rich, and Great.

155	Thus every Part was full of Vice,
	Yet the whole Mass a Paradice;
	Flatter’d in Peace, and fear’d in Wars
	They were th’Esteem of Foreigners,
	And lavish of their Wealth and Lives,
160	The Ballance of all other Hives.
	Such were the Blessings of that State;
	Their Crimes conspired to make ’em Great;
	And Vertue, who from Politicks
	Had learn’d a Thousand cunning Tricks,
165	Was, by their happy Influence,
	Made Friends with Vice: And ever since
	The worst of all the Multitude
	Did something for the common Good.

	This was the State’s Craft, that maintain’d
170	The Whole, of which each Part complain’d:
	This, as in Musick Harmony,
	Made Jarrings in the Main agree;
	Parties directly opposite
	Assist each oth’r, as ’twere for Spight;
175	And Temp’rance with Sobriety
	Serve Drunkenness and Gluttonny.

	The Root of evil Avarice,
	That damn’d ill-natur’d baneful Vice,
	Was Slave to Prodigality,
180	That Noble Sin; whilst Luxury.
	Employ’d a Million of the Poor,
	And odious Pride a Million more
	Envy it self, and Vanity
	Were Ministers of Industry;
185	Their darling Folly, Fickleness
	In Diet, Furniture, and Dress,
	That strange, ridic’lous Vice, was made
	The very Wheel, that turn’d the Trade.
	Their Laws and Cloaths were equally
190	Objects of Mutability;
	For, what was well done for a Time,
	In half a Year became a Crime;
	Yet whilst they alter’d thus their Laws,
	Still finding and correcting Flaws,
195	They mended by Inconstancy
	Faults, which no Prudence could foresee.

	Thus Vice nursed Ingenuity,
	Which join’d with Time; and Industry
	Had carry’d Life’s Conveniencies,
200	It’s real Pleasures, Comforts, Ease,
	To such a Height, the very Poor
	Lived better than the Rich before;
	And nothing could be added more:

	How vain is Mortals Happiness!
205	Had they but known the Bounds of Bliss;
	And, that Perfection here below
	Is more, than Gods can well bestow,
	The grumbling Brutes° had been content	brutes = animals
	With Ministers and Government.
210	But they, at every ill Success,
	Like Creatures lost without Redress,
	Cursed Politicians, Armies, Fleets;
	Whilst every one cry’d, Damn the Cheats,
	And would, tho’ Conscious of his own,
215	In Others barb’rously bear none.

	One, that had got a Princely Store,
	By cheating Master, King, and Poor,
	Dared cry aloud; The Land must sink
	For all its Fraud; And whom d’ye think
220	The Sermonizing Rascal chid?
	A Glover that sold Lamb for Kid.

	The last Thing was not done amiss,
	Or cross’d the Publick Business;
	But all the Rogues cry’d brazenly,
225	Good Gods, had we but Honesty!
	Merc’ry smiled at th’Impudence;
	And Others call’d it want° of Sence,	want = lack
	Always to rail at what they loved:
	But Jove, with Indignation moved,
230	At last in Anger swore, he’d rid
	The bawling Hive of Fraud, and did.
	The very Moment it departs,
	And Honsty fills all their Hearts;
	There shews ’em, like the Instructive Tree,
235	Those Crimes, which they’re ashamed to see?
	Which now in Silence they confess,
	By Blushing at their Uglyness;
	Like Children, that would hide their Faults,
	And by their Colour own their Thoughts;
240	Imag’ning, when they’re look’d upon,
	That others see, what they have done.

	But, Oh ye Gods! What Consternation,
	How vast and sudden was the Alteration!
	In half an Hour, the Nation round,
245	Meat fell a Penny in the Pound.
	The Mask Hypocrisie’s flung down,
	From the great Statesman to the Clown:°	country bumpkin
	And some, in borrow’d Looks well known,
	Appear’d like Strangers in their own.
250	The Bar was silent from that Day;
	For now the willing Debtors pay,
	Even what’s by Creditors forgot;
	Who quitted them, who had it not.
	Those, that were in the Wrong, stood mute,
255	And dropt the patch’d vexatious Suit.
	On which, since nothing less can thrive,
	Than Lawyers in an honest Hive,
	All, except those, that got enough,
	With Ink-horns by their Sides trooped off.

260	Justice hang’d some, set others free;
	And, after Goal-delivery,
	Her Presence be’ng no more requier’d,
	With all her Train, and Pomp retir’d.
	First marched ’some Smiths, with Locks and Grates,
265	Fetters, and Doors with Iron-Plates;
	Next Goalers, Turnkeys, and Assistants:
	Before the Goddess, at some distance,
	Her cheif and faithful Minister
	Squire Catch, the Laws great Finisher,
270	Bore not th’imaginary Sword,
	But his own Tools, an Ax and Cord;
	Then on a Cloud the Hood-wink’d fair
	Justice her self was push’d by Air:
	About her Chariot, and behind,
275	Were Sergeants, ’Bums of every kind,
	Tip-Staffs, and all those Officers,
	That squeese a Living out of Tears.

	Tho’ Physick° liv’d, whilst Folks were ill,	medicine
	None would prescribe, but Bees of Skill;
280	Which, through the Hive dispers’d so wide,
	That none of ’em had need to ride,
	Waved vain Disputes; and strove to free
	The Patients of their Misery;
	Left Drugs in cheating Countries grown,
285	And used the Product of their own,
	Knowing the Gods sent no Disease
	To Nations without remedies.

	Their Clergy rouz’d from Laziness,
	Laid not their Charge on Journey-Bees;
290	But serv’d themselves, exempt from Vice,
	The Gods with Pray’r and Sacrifice;
	All those, that were unfit, or knew,
	Their Service might be spared, withdrew;
	Nor was their Business for so many,
295	(If th’Honest stand in need of any.)
	Few only with the High-Priest staid,
	To whom the rest Obedience paid:
	Himself, employ’d in holy Cares;
	Resign’d to others State Affairs:
300	He chased no Starv’ling from his Door,
	Nor pinch’d the Wages of the Poor:
	But at his House the Hungry’s fed,
	The Hireling finds unmeasur’d Bread,
	The needy Trav’ler Board and Bed.

305	Among the King’s great Ministers,
	And all th’inferiour Officers
	The Change was great; for frugally
	They now lived on their Salary.
	That a poor Bee should Ten times come
310	To ask his Due, a trifling Sum,
	And by some well hir’d Clerk be made,
	To give a Crown, or ne’er be paid;
	Would now be called a down-right Cheat,
	Tho’ formerly a Perquisite.
315	All Places; managed first by Three,
	Who watch’d each other’s Knavery,
	And often for a Fellow-feeling,
	Promoted, one anothers Stealing,
	Are happily supply’d by one;
320	By which some Thousands more are gone.

	No Honour now could be content,
	To live, and owe for what was spent.
	Liveries in Brokers Shops are hung,
	They part with Coaches for a Song;
325	Sell Stately Horses by whole Sets;
	And Country Houses to pay Debts.

	Vain Cost is shunn’d as much as Fraud;
	They have no forces kept Abroad;
	Laugh at the Esteem of Foreigners,
330	And empty Glory got by Wars;
	They fight but for their Country’s Sake,
	When Right or Liberty’s at Stake.

	Now mind the glorious Hive, and see,
	How Honesty and Trade agree:
335	The Shew is gone, it thins apace;
	And looks with quite another Face,
	For ’twas not only that they went,
	By whom vast Sums were Yearly spent;
	But Multitudes, that lived on them,
340	Were daily forc’d to do the same.
	In vain to other Trades they’d fly;
	All were o’re-stocked accordingly.

	The Price of Land, and Houses falls
	Mirac’lous Palaces, whose Walls,
345	Like those of Thebes, were raised by Play,
	Are to be let; whilst the once gay,
	Well-seated Houshould Gods would be
	More pleased t’expire in Flames, than see;
	The mean Inscription on the Door
350	Smile at the lofty Ones they bore.
	The Building Trace is quite destroy’d,
	Artificers° are not employ’d;	craftsmen
	No Limner for his Art is famed;
	Stone-cutters, Garvers are not named.

355	Those, that remain’d, grown temp’rate, strive,
	So how to spend; but how to live;
	And, when they paid the Tavern Score,
	Resolv’d to enter it no more:
	No Vintners Jilt in all the Hive
360	Could wear now Cloth of Gold and thrive;
	Nor Torcol; such vast sums advance,
	For Burgundy and Ortelans;
	The Courtier’s gone, that with his Miss
	Supp’d at his House on Christmass Peas;
365	Spending as much in two Hours stay,
	As 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,
370	Which the Indies had been ransack’d for;
	Contracts the expensive Bill of Fare,
	And wears her strong Suit a whole Year:
	The slight and fickle Age is past;
	And Cloaths, as wel as Fashions last.
375	Weavers that ioyn’d rich Silk with Plate,
	And all the Trades subordinate,
	Are gone. Still Peace and Plenty reign,
	And every thing is cheap, tho’ plain;
	Kind Nature, free from Gard’ners Force,
380	Allows all Fruits in her own Course;
	But Rarities cannot be had,
	Where Pains to get ’em are not paid.

	As Pride and Luxury decrease,
	So by degrees they leave the Seas,
385	Not Merchants now; but Companies
	Remove whole Manufacturies.
	All Arts and Crafts neglected lie;
	Content the Bane of Industry,
	Makes ’em admire their homely Store,
390	And neither seek, nor covet more.

	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;
395	Till some well-fenced Retreat is found;
	And here they die, or stand their Ground,
	No Hireling in their Armies known;
	But bravely fighting for their own;
	Their Courage and Integrity
400	At last were crown’d with Victory.
	They triumph’d not without their Cost,
	For many Thousand Bees were lost.
	Hard’ned with Toils, and Exercise
	They counted Ease it self a Vice;
405	Which so improv’d their Temperance,
	That to avoid Extravagance,
	They flew into a hollow tree,
	Blest with content and Honesty.
	The M O R A L.
	THEN leave Complaints: Fools only strive
410	To make a Great an honest Hive.
	T’enjoy the World’s Conveniencies,
	Be famed in War, yet live in Ease
	Without great Vices, is a vain
	Eutopia seated in the Brain.
415	Fraud, Luxury, and Pride must live;
	Whilst 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
420	To the dry, crooked, shabby Vine?
	Which, whist its shutes neglected stood,
	Choak’d other Plants, and ran to Wood;
	But blest us with his Noble Fruit;
	As soon as it was tied, and cut:
425	So Vice is beneficial found,
	When it’s by Justice lopt and bound;
	Nay, where the People would be great,
	As necessary to the State,
	At Hunger is to make ’em eat.
430	Bare Vertue can’t make Nations live
	In Splendour; they, that would revive
	A Golden Age, must be as free,
	For Acorns, as for Honesty.

The Grumbling Hive

By Bernard Mandeville

Edited by Jack Lynch

THE
Grumbling Hive:
OR,

K N A V E S

Turn’d HONEST.

The M O R A L.

The Grumbling Hive

By Bernard Mandeville

Edited by Jack Lynch

THE Grumbling Hive: OR, K N A V E S Turn’d HONEST.

The M O R A L.

THE
Grumbling Hive:
OR,

K N A V E S

Turn’d HONEST.