Bernard de Mandeville
Bernard Mandeville o Bernard de Mandeville (Rotterdam, Países Bajos, 15 de noviembre de 1670 – Hackney, Inglaterra, 1733) fue un filósofo, médico, economista político, investigador y satírico. Aunque nació en los Países Bajos, vivió la mayor parte de su vida en Inglaterra y usó el inglés para la publicación de la mayoría de sus trabajos. Famoso por su obra La fábula de las abejas.
Nació en Rotterdam, donde su padre practicaba la medicina. Al acabar los estudios en la Escuela Erasmiana de su ciudad natal mostró sus habilidades literarias en un primer texto titulado Oratio scholastica de medicina (1685). Estudió medicina y filosofía en la Universidad de Leiden , donde presentó una tesis , De brutorum operationibus 1689, en la que defendía la teoría cartesiana del mecanicismo en los animales, y en 1691 consiguió el doctorado; de esta misma época es su ensayo, De chylosi vitiata.
En 1693 viajó a Inglaterra para aprender inglés, después de que ese mismo año su padre fuera desterrado de Rotterdam por su participación en unos alborotos relacionados con los impuestos en Costerman. En Inglaterra trabajó como médico, profesión en la que llegó a ser muy respetado.Su especialidad era el tratamiento de enfermedades nerviosas y del estómago, y sobre ellas escribió un tratado (A Treatise of the hypochondriac and hysteric passions, 1711). Sus habilidades sociales le ganaron la amistad de Macclesfield, quien fuera ministro de Justicia entre 1710 y 1718, que le presentó a Joseph Addison, descrito por Mandeville como un "sacerdote en una peluca". Sus trabajos literarios tuvieron notable éxito.
Habiéndose asentado algunos años más tarde en Inglaterra hasta su muerte (1733), se dedicó a la práctica de la psiquiatría en Londres, que supo conjugar con la investigación de la naturaleza humana. Murió de una fuerte gripe el 21 de enero de 1733 en Hackney. Hay pocos retratos de Mandeville y muchos detalles de su vida son oscuros. El nombre Mandeville podría hacer pensar en un origen francés, pero sus antepasados habían vivido en los Países Bajos desde al menos el siglo XVI. No hay ninguna conexión conocida entre él y Juan de Mandeville.
La fábula de las abejas
Portada de La fábula de las abejas, edición de 1724.
En 1705, Mandeville publicó un poema largo bajo el título de The Grumbling Hive, or Knaves Turn'd Honest (La colmena refunfuñona, o los bribones se ponen honrados), que en 1714 fue publicado de nuevo como parte integral de Fable of the Bees: or, Private Vices, Publick Benefits (La fábula de las abejas: o, vicios privados, públicos beneficios), donde iba acompañado de un comentario prosaico, llamado Remarks (Comentarios), y un ensayo, An Enquiry into the Origin of Moral Virtue (Una pregunta en el origen de la virtud moral).
En 1723 fue publicada otra edición que incluía otros textos: An Essay on Charity and Charity Schools (Un ensayo sobre la caridad y las escuelas de caridad) y A Search into the Nature of Society (Búsqueda en la naturaleza de la sociedad). Por esto fue vigorosamente combatido por, entre otros, el obispo George Berkeley y William Law, y en 1729 fue objeto de una investigación judicial por su tendencia inmoral.
El libro estaba escrito como una sátira política sobre el estado de Inglaterra en 1705, cuando los conservadores acusaban a John Churchill, duque de Marlborough, de defender la guerra por razones personales. La edición de 1723 fue denunciada en el London Journal de Londres por "Theophilus Philo-Britannus" y atacada por muchos escritores. Entre los ataques más notables destacan el de Archibald Campbell efectuado en su Aretelogia, que fue publicado bajo el seudónimo de Alejandro Innes en 1728 y después, bajo su propio nombre, en 1733, como Enquiry into the Original of Moral Virtue.
La Fábula se reimprimió en 1729, apareció una novena edición en 1755 y cuenta con numerosas ediciones más recientes. George Berkeley la atacó en el segundo diálogo del Alciphron de 1732, y John Brown la criticó en su Essay upon Shaftesbury's Characteristics (Ensayo sobre las características de Shaftesbury, 1751).
Obras
Typhon: a Burlesque Poem (1704).
Aesop Dress'd, or a Collection of Fables writ in Familiar Verse (1704).
The Planter's Charity (1704).
The Virgin Unmasked (1709, 1724, 1731, 1742).
Treatise of the Hypochondriack and Hysterick Passions (1711, 1715, 1730).
The Fable of the Bees (1714).
Free Thoughts on Religion (1720).
A Modest Defence of Publick Stews (1724).
An Enquiry into the Causes of the Frequent Executions at Tyburn (1725).
The Origin of Honour and the Usefulness of Christianity in War (1732).
Otras obras atribuidas
The World Unmasked (1736).
Zoologia medicinalis hibernica (1744).
Fábulas / 20 - La fábula de las abejas, o cómo los vicios privados hacen la prosperidad pública - Bernard de Mandeville - Países Bajos
En 1714, Bernard Mandeville escribía esto: "Había una colmena que se parecía a una sociedad humana bien ordenada. No faltaban en ella ni los bribones, ni los malos médicos, ni los malos sacerdotes, ni los malos soldados, ni los malos ministros. Por descontado tenía una mala reina. Todos los días se cometían fraudes en esta colmena; y la justicia, llamada a reprimir la corrupción, era ella misma corruptible. En suma, cada profesión y cada estamento, estaban llenos de vicios. Pero la nación no era por ello menos próspera y fuerte. En efecto, los vicios de los particulares contribuían a la felicidad pública; y, de rechazo, la felicidad pública causaba el bienestar de los particulares. Pero se produjo un cambio en el espíritu de las abejas, que tuvieron la singular idea de no querer ya nada más que honradez y virtud. El amor exclusivo al bien se apoderó de los corazones, de donde se siguió muy pronto la ruina de toda la colmena. Como se eliminaron los excesos, desaparecieron las enfermedades y no se necesitaron más médicos. Como se acabaron las disputas, no hubo más procesos y, de esta forma, no se necesitaron ya abogados ni jueces. Las abejas, que se volvieron económicas y moderadas, no gastaron ya nada: no más lujos, no más arte, no más comercio. La desolación, en definitiva, fue general. La conclusión parece inequívoca: Dejad, pues, de quejaros: sólo los tontos se esfuerzan por hacer de un gran panal un panal honrado. Fraude, lujo y orgullo deben vivir, si queremos gozar de sus dulces beneficios".
Fábula de las abejas
Un gran panal atiborrado de abejas
que vivían con lujo y comodidad,
mas que gozaba fama por sus leyes
y numerosos enjambres precoces,
estaba considerado el gran vivero
de las ciencias y la industria.
No hubo abejas mejor gobernadas,
ni más veleidad ni menos contento:
no eran esclavas de la tiranía
ni las regía loca democracia,
sino reyes que no se equivocaban,
pues su poder estaba circinscrito por leyes.
Estos insectos vivían como hombres,
y todos nuestros actos realizaban en pequeño;
hacían todo lo que se hace en la ciudad
y cuanto corresponde a la espada y a la toga,
aunque sus artificios, por ágil ligereza
de sus miembros diminutos, escapaban a la vista humana.
Empero, no tenemos nosotros máquinas, trabajadores,
buques, castillos, armas, artesanos,
arte, ciencia, taller o instrumento
que no tuviesen ellas el equivalente;
a los cuales, pues su lenguaje es desconocido,
llamaremos igual que a los nuestros.
Como franquicia, entre otras cosas,
carecían de dados, pero tenían reyes,
y éstos tenían guardias; podemos, pues,
pensar con verdad que tuvieran algún juego,
a menos que se pueda exhibir un regimiento
de soldados que no practique ninguno.
Grandes multitudes pululaban en el fructífero panal;
y esa gran cantidad les permitía medras,
empeñados por millones en satisfacerse
mutuamente la lujuria y vanidad,
y otros millones ocupábanse
en destruir sus manufacturas;
abastecían a medio mundo,
pero tenían más trabajo que trabajadores.
Algunos, con mucho almacenado y pocas penas,
lanzábanse a negocios de pingües ganancias,
y otros estaban condenados a la guadaña y al azadón,
y a todos estos oficios laboriosos
en los que los miserables voluntariosos sudan cada día
agotando su energía y sus brazos para comer.
Mientras, otros se abocaban a misterios
a los que poca gente envía aprendices,
que no requieren más capital que el bronce
y pueden levantarse sin un céntimo,
como fulleros, parásitos, rufianes, jugadores,
rateros, falsificadores, curanderos, agoreros
y todos aquellos que, enemigos
del trabajo sincero, astutamente
se apropian del trabajo
del vecino incauto y bonachón.
Bribones llamaban a éstos, mas salvo el mote,
los serios e industriosos eran los mismo:
todo oficio y dignidad tiene su tramposo,
no existe profesión sin engaño.
Los abogados, cuyo arte se basa
en crear litigios y discordar los casos,
oponíanse a todo lo establecido para que los embaucadores
tuvieran más trabajo con haciendas hipotecadas,
como si fuera ilegal que lo propio
sin mediar pleito pudiera disfrutarse.
Deliberadamente demoraban las audiencias,
para echar mano a los honorarios;
y por defender causas malvadas
hurgaban y registraban en las leyes
como los ladrones las tiendas y las casas,
buscando por dónde entrar mejor.
Los médicos valoraban la riqueza y la fama
más que la salud del paciente marchito
o su propia pericia; la mayoría,
en lugar de las reglas de su arte, estudiaban
graves actitudes pensativas y parsimoniosas,
para ganarse el favor del boticario
y la lisonja de parteras y sacerdotes, y de todos
cuantos asisten al nacimiento o al funeral,
siendo indulgentes con la tribu charlatana
y las prescripciones de las comadres,
con sonrisa afectada y un amable "¿Qué tal?"
para adular a toda la familia,
y la peor de todas las maldiciones,
aguantar la impertinencia de las enfermeras.
De los muchos sacerdotes de Júpiter
contratados para conseguir bendiciones de Arriba,
algunos eran leídos y elocuentes,
pero los había violentos e ignorantes por millares,
aunque pasaban el examen todos cuantos podían
enmascarar su pereza, lujuria, avaricia y orgullo,
por los que eran tan afamados, como los sastres
por sisar retazos, o ron los marineros;
algunos, entecos y andrajosos,
místicamente mendigaban pan,
significando una copiosa despensa,
aunque literalmente no recibían más;
y mientras estos santos ganapanes perecían de hambre,
los holgazanes a quienes servían
gozaban su comodidad, con todas las gracias
de la salud y la abundancia en sus rostros.
Los soldados, que a batirse eran forzados,
sobreviviendo disfrutaban honores,
aunque otros, que evitaban la sangrienta pelea,
enseñaban los muñones de sus miembros amputados;
generales había, valerosos, que enfrentaban al enemigo,
y otros recibían sobornos para dejarle huir;
los que siempre al fragor se aventuraban
perdían, ora una pierna, ora un brazo,
hasta que, incapaces de seguir, les dejaban de lado
a vivir sólo a media ración,
mientras otros que nunca habían entrado en liza
se estaban en sus casas gozando doble mesada.
Servían a sus reyes, pero con villanía,
engañados por su propio ministerio;
muchos, esclavos de su propio bienestar,
salvábanse robando a la misma corona:
tenían pequeñas pensiones y las pasaban en grande,
aunque jactándose de su honradez.
Retorciendo el Derecho, llamaban
estipendios a sus pringosos gajes;
y cuando las gentes entendieron su jerga,
cambiaron aquel nombre por el de emolumentos,
reticentes de llamar a las cosas por su nombre
en todo cuanto tuviera que ver con sus ganancias;
porque no había abeja que no quisiera
tener siempre más, no ya de lo que debía,
sino de lo que osaba dejar entender
que pagaba por ello; como vuestros jugadores,
que aún jugando rectamente, nunca ostentan
lo que han ganado ante los perdedores.
¿Quién podrá recordar todas sus supercherías?
El propio material que por la calle vendían
como basura para abonar la tierra,
frecuentemente la veían los compradores
abultada con un cuartillo
de mortero y piedras inservibles;
aunque poco podía quejarse el tramposo
que, a su vez, vendía gato por liebre.
Y la misma Justicia, célebre por su equidad,
aunque ciega, no carecía de tacto;
su mano izquierda, que debía sostener la balanza,
a menudo la dejaba caer, sobornada con oro;
y aunque parecía imparcial
tratándose de castigos corporales,
fingía seguir su curso regular
en los asesinatos y crímenes de sangre;
pero a algunos, primero expuestos a mofa por embaucadores,
los ahorcaban luego con cáñamo de su propia fábrica;
creíase, empero, que su espada
sólo ponía coto a desesperados y pobres
que, delincuentes por necesidad,
eran luego colgados en el árbol de los infelices
por crímenes que no merecían tal destino,
salvo por la seguridad de los grandes y los ricos.
Así pues, cada parte estaba llena de vicios,
pero todo el conjunto era un Paraíso;
adulados en la paz, temidos en la guerra,
eran estimados por los extranjeros
y disipaban en su vida y riqueza
el equilibrio de los demás panales.
Tales eran las bendiciones de aquel Estado:
sus pecados colaboraban para hacerle grande;
y la virtud, que en la política
había aprendido mil astucias,
por la feliz influencia de ésta
hizo migas con el vicio; y desde entonces
aun el peor de la multitud,
algo hacía por el bien común.
Así era el arte del Estado, que mantenía
el todo, del cual cada parte se quejaba;
esto, como en música la armonía,
en general hacía concordar las disonancias;
partes directamente opuestas
se ayudaban, como si fuera por despecho,
y la templanza y la sobriedad
servían a la beodez y la gula.
La raíz de los males, la avaricia,
vicio maldito, perverso y pernicioso,
era esclava de la prodigalidad,
ese noble pecado;
mientras que el lujo
daba trabajo a un millón de pobres
y el odioso orgullo a un millón más;
la misma envidia, y la vanidad,
eran ministros de la industria;
sus amadas, tontería y vanidad,
en el comer, el vestir y el mobiliario,
hicieron de ese vicio extraño y ridículo
la rueda misma que movía al comercio,
sus ropas y sus leyes eran por igual
objeto de mutabilidad;
porque lo que alguna vez estaba bien,
en medio año se convertía en delito;
sin embargo, al paso que mudaban sus leyes
siempre buscando y corrigiendo imperfecciones,
con la inconstancia remediaban
faltas que no previó prudencia alguna.
Así el vicio nutría al ingenio,
el cual, unido al tiempo y la industria,
traía consigo las conveniencias de la vida,
los verdaderos placeres, comodidad, holgura,
en tal medida, que los mismos pobres
vivían mejor que antes los ricos,
y nada más podría añadirse.
¡Cuán vana es la felicidad de los mortales!
Si hubiesen sabido los límites de la bienaventuranza
y que aquí abajo, la perfección
es más de lo que los dioses pueden otorgar,
los murmurantes bichos se habrían contentado
con sus ministros y su gobierno;
pero, no: a cada malandanza,
cual criaturas perdidas sin remedio,
maldecían sus políticos, ejércitos y flotas,
al grito de "¡Mueran los bribones!",
y aunque sabedores de sus propios timos,
despiadadamente no les toleraban en los demás.
Uno, que obtuvo acopios principescos
burlando al amo, al rey y al pobre,
osaba gritar: "¡Húndase la tierra
por sus muchos pecados!".
Y, ¿quién creeréis que fuera el bribón sermoneador?
Un guantero que daba borrego por cabritilla.
Nada se hacía fuera de lugar
ni que interfiriera los negocios públicos;
pero todos los tunantes exclamaban descarados:
"¡Dios mío, si tuviésemos un poco de honradez!"
Mercurio sonreía ante tal impudicia,
a la que otros llamarían falta de sensatez,
de vilipendiar siempre lo que les gustaba;
pero Júpiter, movido de indignación,
al fin airado prometió liberar por completo
del fraude al aullante panal; y así lo hizo.
Y en ese mismo momento el fraude se aleja,
y todos los corazones se colman de honradez;
allí ven muy patentes, como en el Árbol de la Ciencia,
todos los delitos que se avergüenzan de mirar,
y que ahora se confiesan en silencio,
ruborizándose de su fealdad,
cual niños que quisieran esconder sus yerros
y su color traicionara sus pensamientos,
imaginando, cuando se les mira,
que los demás ven lo que ellos hicieron.
Pero, ¡Oh, dioses, qué consternación!
¡Cuán grande y súbito ha sido el cambio!
En media hora, en toda la Nación,
la carne ha bajado un penique la libra.
Yace abatida la máscara de la hipocresía,
la del estadista y la del payaso;
y algunos, que eran conocidos por atuendos prestados,
se veían muy extraños con los propios.
Los tribunales quedaron ya aquel día en silencio,
porque ya muy a gusto pagaban los deudores,
aun lo que sus acreedores habían olvidado,
y éstos absolvían a quienes no tenían.
Quienes no tenían razón, enmudecieron,
cesando enojosos pleitos remendados;
con lo cual, nada pudo medrar menos
que los abogados en un panal honrado;
todos, menos quienes habían ganado lo bastante,
con sus cuernos de tinta colgados se largaron.
La Justicia ahorcó a algunos y liberó a otros;
y, tras enviarlos a la cárcel,
no siendo ya más requerida su presencia,
con su séquito y pompa se marchó.
Abrían el séquito los herreros con cerrojos y rejas,
grillos y puertas con planchas de hierro;
luego los carceleros, torneros y guardianes;
delante de la diosa, a cierta distancia,
su fiel ministro principal,
don Verdugo, el gran consumador de la Ley,
no portaba ya su imaginaria espada,
sino sus propias herramientas, el hacha y la cuerda;
después, en una nube, el hada encapuchada,
la Justicia misma, volando por los aires;
en torno de su carro, y detrás de él,
iban sargentos, corchetes de todas clases,
alguaciles de vara, y los oficiales todos
que exprimen lágrimas para ganarse la vida.
Aunque la medicina vive mientras haya enfermos,
nadie recetaba más que las abejas con aptitudes,
tan abundantes en todo el panal,
que ninguna de ellas necesitaba viajar;
dejando de lado vanas controversias, se esforzaban
por librar de sufrimientos a sus pacientes,
descartando las drogas de países granujas
para usar sólo sus propios productos,
pues sabían que los dioses no mandan enfermedades
a naciones que carecen de remedios.
Despertando de su pereza, el clero
no pasaba ya su carga a abejas jornaleras,
sino que se abastecía a sí mismo, exento de vicios,
para hacer sacrificios y ruegos a los dioses.
Todos los ineptos, o quienes sabían
que sus servicios no eran indispensables, se marcharon;
no había ya ocupación para tantos
(si los honrados alguna vez los habían necesitado)
y sólo algunos quedaron junto al Sumo Sacerdote,
a quienes los demás rendían obediencia;
y él mismo, ocupado en tareas piadosas,
abandonó sus demás negocios en el Estado.
No echaba a los hambrientos de su puerta
ni pellizcaba del jornal de los pobres,
sino que al famélico alimentaba en su casa,
en la que el jornalero encontraba pan abundante
y cama y sustento el peregrino.
Bernard de Mandeville
http://nadiesalvoelcrepusculo.blogspot.com.es/
The Two Dragons. A Fable.
Not long ago th' Ambassador
From the great Turk to the Emperor,
Extoll'd his Master's strength, beyond
The German Force; a Courtier, fond
Of his own Country, boastingly
Said, his Imperial Majesty
Had many Princes under him,
So powerful, that each of 'em,
Could raise an Army of his own,
And more than one that wore a Crown.
I know, says th' other, very well,
Your Dukes and Pow'rs Electoral,
With others, that advance the glory
Of th' Empire. But I'll tell y' a story:
I dreamt I saw a frightful Beast,
That had a hundred Heads at least;
At first I startled at the sight;
But soon recovering from my Fright,
I ventured on, and coming near it,
I found I had no cause to fear it:
For every Head did what it would;
Some work'd with all the Force they could;
But most of 'em lay of a heap,
And look'd as if th' been asleep;[Pg 2]
Others, in hopes of better Prey,
Were pulling quite another way.
I turn'd my Head about, and spied
A mighty Beast, on the other side:
One Head adorn'd his Brawny Neck;
But hundred Tails did close his Back;
And as the Heads march'd o'er the Land,
The Tails did follow at Command;
Did Execution every where;
I waked, and thought the Monsters were
Both Empires; but the Tails are ours,
And all the glorious Heads are yours.
The Wolf and Dog.
A Wolf so pitious poor and thin,
His very Bones stuck through his Skin,
(A sign the Dogs were watchful) met
A sturdy Mastiff, slick and fat.
Sir Wolf, revengeful on his Foes,
Had murder'd him, as one of those
That hinder'd him from stealing Cattle;
But was afraid of joyning Battle
With one, that look'd, as if he could
Stand buff, and make his party good.
And therefore in an humble way
He gives the Dog the time o'th' Day;
Talks mighty complaisant, and vents
A Waggon Load of Compliments[Pg 3]
Upon his being in such a Case,
His brawny Flank and jolly Face.
Sir Wolf, replies the Mastiff, you
May be as fat as any Doe,
If you'll but follow my advice;
For Faith, I think you are unwise,
To ramble up and down a Wood,
Where's nothing to be had, that's good,
No Elemosynary meat,
Or e'er a bit, that's good to eat,
But what is got by downright force,
For which at last you pay in course.
And thus yourselves, your hagged Wives
And Children lead but wretched lives;
Always in fear of being caught,
Till commonly y'are starv'd or shot.
Quoth Wolf, shew me a livelyhood,
And then, the Devil take the Wood:
I stand in need of better Diet,
And would be glad to feed in quiet:
But, pray, What's to be done, an't please ye?
Nothing, but what is very easy;
To bark at Fellows that look poor,
Fright pilfring Strolers from the Door;
And then, which is the chiefest matter,
To wag your Tail, to coax and flatter
Those of the Family; for this
They'll give you hundred Niceties,
As Chicken Bones, boyl'd Loins of Mutton,
As good as ever Tooth was put in,
The licking of a greasy Dish,
And all the Dainties Heart can wish;[Pg 4]
Besides, the Master shall caress ye,
Spit in your Mouth, and——Heaven bless ye.
Good Sir, let's go immediately,
Reply'd the Wolf, and wept for Joy.
They went; and tho' they walk'd apace,
The Wolf spy'd here and there a Place
About the Neck of Mastiff, where,
It seems, his Curship lost some Hair,
And said, pray Brother Dog, What's this?
Nothing. Nay, tell me, what it is;
It looks like gall'd. Perhaps 'tis from
My Collar. Then, I find, at home
They tie you. Yes. I'm not inclin'd to't,
Or goes it loose when y'have a Mind to't,
Truely not always; but what's that?
What's that! quoth he; I smell a Rat;
My Liberty is such a Treasure,
I'll change it for no Earthly Pleasure;
At that his Wolfship fled, and so
Is flying still for ought I know.
The Frog.
A Frog threw his ambitious Eyes
Upon an Ox, admired his size,
And, from the smallness of an Egg,
Endeavoured to become as big.
He swells himself, and puffs, and blows,
And every foot, cries there he goes.[Pg 5]
Well, Brother, have I bulk enough,
An't I as large, as he? What stuff!
Pray look again. The Dev'l a bit.
Then now. You don't come near him yet.
Again he swells, and swells so fast,
Till, straining more, he bursts at last.
So full of Pride is every Age!
A Citizen must have a Page,
A Petty Prince Ambassadors,
And Tradesmens Children Governours;
A Fellow, that i'n't worth a Louse,
Still keeps his Coach and Country-house;
A Merchant swell'd with haughtiness,
Looks ten times bigger than he is;
Buys all, and draws upon his Friend,
As if his Credit had no end;
At length he strains with so much Force,
Till, like the Frog, he bursts in course,
And, by his empty Skin you find,
That he was only fill'd with Wind.
The Pumkin and Acorn.
A Self conceited Country Bumkin
Thus made his glosses on a Pumkin.
The Fruit, says he, is very big,
The Stalk not thicker than a Twig,
Scarce any Root, great Leaves; I wonder,
Dame Nature should make such a blunder:[Pg 6]
Had I been she, I would have plac'd it
On yon high Oak, and 'twould have grac'd it
Better than Acorns; its a whim
A little Shrub would do for them;
Why should a Tree so tall and fine,
Bear small stuff only fit for Swine?
But hundred things are made in waste,
Which shews the World was fram'd in haste.
Had I been sent for in those Days,
'Twould have been managed otherwise:
I would have made all of a suit,
And large Trees should have had large Fruit.
Thus he went on, and in his Eyes,
The Simpleton was very wise;
A little after, coming nigh
An Oak, whose Crown was very high,
He liked the Place and down he laid
His weary Carcass, in the Shade:
But, as the find-fault Animal
Turn'd on his Back, an Acorn fell,
And hit his Nose a swinging Blow.
Good God was this the Pumkin now!
The very thought on't struck him dumb:
He prais'd his Maker, and went home.
The Moral.
The World's vast Fabrick is so well
Contrived by its Creator's Skill;[Pg 7]
There's nothing in't, but what is good
To him, by whom its understood;
And what opposes Human Sence,
Shews but our Pride and Ignorance.
The Hands, Feet, and Belly.
The Hands and Feet in Council met,
Were mightily upon the Fret,
And swore 'twas something more than hard,
Always to work without reward.
The Feet said, truly its a Jest,
That we should carry all the rest;
March at all Hours thro thick and thin,
With Shoes that let the Water in;
Our Nails are hard as Bullock's Horns,
Our Toes beset with plaguy Corns;
We rais'd four Blisters th' other Night,
And yet got not a farthing by't.
Brothers, reply'd the Hands, 'tis true,
We know what hardship's y' undergo;
But then w' are greater Slaves than you;
For tho' all day we scrape and rake,
And labour till our Fringers ake;
Tho' we've been ply'd at every thing;
Yet then, without considering
What pains or weariness we feel,
W'are forced to serve at every meal,[Pg 8]
And often, whilst you're set at ease,
Drudge to the Knucles up in Grease;
As for your Corns and Nails in troth,
We have the trouble of cutting both.
Take this not, Brothers, in a sence,
That might create a Difference;
We only hinted it, to shew
We're full as badly us'd as you;
Our Grievances are general,
And caused by him that swallows all;
The ungrateful Belly is our bane,
Whom with our labour we maintain;
The ill natured'st Rogue, that e'er was fed,
The lazy'st Dog, that lives by Bread.
For him we starve; for what d'ye think
Becomes of all the Meat and Drink?
'Tis he, that makes us look so thin,
To stretch his everlasting Skin;
Tho' we do all his Business,
What did he ever give to us?
And therefore let my Lord Abdomen
Say what he will, we'll work for no Man.
Nay if we scratch him tho' he itches,
Calls us a hundred Sons of Bitches.
And, if you do the same, you'll see, }
He'll quickly be as lean as we; }
What say ye, Brothers, do y' agree? }
Yes, says the Feet, and he be curst,
That dares to think of stirring first.
And thus the Rebels disobey;
Who swear they'll now keep Holy-day,[Pg 9]
Resolv'd to live like Gentlemen.
His Gutship calls and calls again,
They answer'd they would toil no more;
But rest as he had done before:
But soon the Mutineers repent; }
The Belly when his Stock was spent, }
Could not send down the Nourishment, }
That's requisite for every part;
The weakness seiz'd the drooping Heart:
Till all the Members suffer'd by't,
And languished in a woeful plight:
They saw, when 'twas too late, how he,
Whom they accused of Gluttony,
Of Laziness, Ingratitude, }
Had labour d for the common Good, }
By ways they never understood. }
The Moral.
The Belly is the Government,
From whence the Nourishment is sent,
Of wholesome Laws for mutual Peace,
For Plenty, Liberty, and Ease,
To all the Body Politick,
Which where it fails the Nation's sick.
The Members are the discontent
Pleibeians; that are ignorant,
How necessary for the State
It is, that Princes should be great:[Pg 10]
Which, if their Pomp and Pow'r were less,
Could not preserve our Happiness.
The Vulgar think all Courts to be
But Seats of Sloth and Luxury;
Themselves, but Slaves compell'd to bear
The Taxes, and the Toils of War;
But in this Fable they may see
The dismal Fruits of Mutiny;
Whilst Subjects, that assist the Crown,
But labour to maintain their own.
The Countryman and the Knight.
An honest Countryman had got
Behind his House a pretty Spot,
Of Garden Ground, with all what might
Contribute to the Taste and Sight,
The Rose and Lilly, which have been
Still kept to compliment the Skin,
Poppies renown'd for giving ease,
With Roman Lettice, Endive, Pease,
And Beans, which Nat'ralists do reckon
To be so ominous to Bacon.
The Beds were dung'd, the Walks well swept,
And every thing was nicely kept.
Only a Hare wou'd now and then
Spite of the Master and the Men[Pg 11]
Make raking work for half a day,
Then fill her Gut and scow'r away.
In vain they beat and search the Ground,
The cunning Jilt can ne'er be found,
The Master once in angry Mood }
Starts up and swears by all that's good, }
He'd be revenged, that he would. }
Runs to a Country Knight his Neighbour,
And there complains how all his labour
Was spoil'd by one confounded Hare,
Which though the'd watch'd her every where
He nor his People ne'er could catch,
And of a certain was a Witch.
His Worship smiles and promises
To rid him of the Sawcy Puss.
At break of Day Jack winds his Horn,
The Beagles scamper thro' the Corn;
Deep mouth'd Curs set up a Cry,
And make a cursed Symphony.
Now stir you Rogues; the Knight is come
With Robin, Lightfoot, Dick and Tom.
The House is full of Dogs and Boys,
And ev'ry where's a horrid Noise,
Well, Landlord, Come, What shall we do?
Must w' eat a Bit before we go?
What have you got? Now all's fetch'd out,
The Victuals rak'd, and tore about.
One pairs the Loaf, another Groom }
Draws Beer, as if he was at home, }
And spils it half about the Room. }
What Horseman's yonder at the Door?
Why, Faith, there's half a dozen more:[Pg 12]
They're Gentlemen, that live at Court,
Come down the Country for some Sport;
Some old Acquaintance of the Knight,
Who whips from Table, bids 'em light.
They ask no Questions but sit down,
Fall too as if it was their own.
One finishes the Potted Salmon,
Then swears, because he had no Lemon.
Good Lord, how sharp the Rogues are set!
It puts my Landlord in a Sweat.
His Daughter comes with fresh Supplies
Of Collard Beef, and Apple-pies.
His Worship falls aboard of her;
The modest Creature quakes for fear.
When do we marry Mistress Ann?
Who is to be the happy Man?
He takes her Hand, and chucks her Chin,
Stares in her Face, commends her Skin,
Removes her Linnen, shews her Neck;
There's Milk, and Blood, Gad take me Jack.
She blushes, and he vows she is
A pretty Girl, then takes a Kiss;
She don't consent, nor dares deny,
Defends herself respectfully;
And now the Knight would let her go; }
Another Rake cries, Damme no: }
I'll have a Kiss as well as you. }
He hugs her close, then calls her Dear,
And whispers bawdy in her Ear.
My charming Rogue, I would not hurt ye.
She answers not, but drops a Courtsie.[Pg 13]
He's rude, and she's asham'd to squeak;
Her Father sees it, dares not speak;
But patiently enduring all,
Stands like a Statue in the Hall.
Now for the Garden and the Hare,
The Dogs get in, and scrape and tear,
The Horsemen follow, leap the Rails;
Down goes the Quick-set-hedge, and Pales.
The Huntsman hollows, runs and pushes,
All goes to Rack, the Borders, Bushes.
And now my Landlord cries amain,
You've ruin'd me; but all in vain.
The Cabbages are kick'd about,
And Flowers with Roots and all pull'd out.
The Beds are levell'd with the Ground,
At last poor trembling Puss is found
Hid underneath a Collyflower.
The Prey is took, away they scower,
And leave our Countryman to think
On all his Loss of Meat and Drink:
What havock's made in ev'ry place,
His Daughter wrong'd before his Face.
Small was the Mischief of the Hare
To ravenous Hunters to compare.
He wrings his Hands, and all in Tears
Repents his foolish rashness, swears,
He'll ne'er call help again in haste,
Since Hounds and Horses made more waste,
In half an hour, than all the Hares
Of th' Country could in Seven Years.[Pg 14]
The Moral.
When petty Princes can't agree,
And strive for Superiority,
They often take my Landlord's Course,
Invite for Aid a foreign Force;
And when their Subjects Slaves are made,
Their Countries all in ruins laid,
As commonly it proves their fate,
Repent with him when it's too late.
The Plague among the Beasts.
One time a mighty Plague did pester
All Beasts Domestick and Sylvester,
They try'd a world of Remedies;
But none that conquer'd the Disease:
And, as in the Calamity
All did not dye, so none were free.
The Lyon in this Consternation
Sends by his Royal Proclamation
To all his loving Subjects greeting,
And summons 'em t' a general Meeting;
And when they're come about his Den,
He says, my Lords and Gentlemen,
I believe you're met full of the Sence
Of this consuming Pestilence;[Pg 15]
Sure such extraordinary Punishment
On common Crimes was never sent;
Therefore it took its derivation,
Not from the trivial Sence of the Nation;
But some notorious Wickedness; }
Then let us search our Consciences, }
And ev'ry one his Faults confess. }
We'll judge the biggest and the least,
And he that is the wicked'st Beast
Shall as a Sacrifice be giv'n,
T'allay the wrath of angry Heav'n,
And serve our Sins an expiation
By ancient way of Immolation;
And, since no one is free from Sin,
Thus with my own I'll first begin.
I've kill'd an Ox, and which is worse,
Committed Murder on a Horse;
And one Day, as I am a Sinner,
I have eat seven Pigs for Dinner,
Robb'd Woods, and Fens, and like a Glutton,
Fed on whole Flocks of Lamb and Mutton:
Nay sometimes, for 'tis in vain to lie,
The Shepherd went for Company.
This was his Speech; when Chanc'lor Fox
Cries out, what signifies an Ox,
Or Horse? Sure those unworthy things
Are honour'd, when made sport for Kings.
But, Sir, your Conscience is too nice,
Hunting's a Princely Exercise:
As for the Sheep, that foolish Cattle,
Not fit for Carriage nor for Battle,[Pg 16]
And being tolerable Meat,
Are good for nothing, but to eat.
The shepherd your sworn Enemy
Deserv'd no better Destiny.
Thus was he, that had sin'd for Twenty,
Clear'd Nemine Contradicente.
The Bear, the Tyger, Beasts that fight,
And all that could but scratch or bite
Came off well; for their gross Abuses
Others as bad found Excuses.
Nay even the Cat of wicked Nature
That kills at play his Fellow Creature
Went scot free: But his Gravity
An Ass of stupid Memory
Confess'd, that, going to Sturbridge-Fair
His Back most broke with Wooden-ware,
He chanc'd half starv'd, and faint, to pass
By a Church-yard with exc'lent Grass,
They had forgot to shut the Gate,
He ventur'd in, stoop'd down and ate.
Hold, cries Judge Wolf, no more, for Crimes
As these, deserve such fatal Times.
By several Acts of Parliament
'Tis Sacriledge, they all consent;
And thus the silly virtuous Ass
Was Sacrifis'd for eating Grass.
The Moral.
The Fable shews you poor Folk's fate
Whilst Laws can never reach the Great.
The Grasshopper and Ant.
A Merry Grasshopper, that sung
And tun'd it all the Summer long,
Fed on small Flies, and had no Reason
To have sad thoughts the gentler Season;
For when 'twas hot the Wind at South,
The Victuals flew into his Mouth:
But when the Winters cold came on,
He found he was as much undone,
As any Insect under Heav'n;
And now the hungry Songster's driv'n
To such a state, no Man can know it,
But a Musician or a Poet,
He makes a Visit to an Ant,
Desires he would relieve his want;
I come not in a begging way, }
Says he, No Sir, name but a day }
In July next, and I'll repay, }
Your Interest and your Principal
Shall both be ready at a Call.
The thrifty Ant says truly Neighbour,
I get my Living by hard Labour;
But you, that in this Storm came hither,
What have you done when 'twas fair Weather?
I've sung, replies the Grasshopper;
Sung! says the Ant, your Servant, Sir;[Pg 18]
If you have sung away the best
Of all the Year, go dance the rest.
The Milk Woman.
A Straping Dame, a going to Town
To sell her Milk with thin Stuff Gown,
And Coats tuck'd up fit for a Race,
Marches along a swinging Pace:
And in her Thoughts already counts
The Price to which her Milk amounts;
She fancies all is sold, and lays
The Money out a hundred ways;
At last she's fix'd, and thinks it plain,
That Eggs would bring the surest Gain:
She buys a hundred, which she reckons
Will four Weeks hence be six Score Chickens.
Such mighty care she takes to rear 'em,
No Fox or Kite can e'er come near 'em,
The finest Hens are kept for Eggs;
The others sold to buy some Piggs;
To whom a little Bran she gives
With Turnep-tops and Cabbage leaves;
And tho' they get no Pease to speak on,
Yet in short time they're sold for Bacon.
O! how the Money pleas'd her Thought
For which a Cow and Calf are bought;
She'll have 'em on the Common kept,
There see 'em jump, at that she leapt[Pg 19]
For joy; down comes the Pail, and now
Good Night t'ye Chickens, Calf and Cow,
Eggs, Bacon; all her busy care,
With them are dwindled into Air.
She looks with Sorrow on the Ground,
And Milk, in which her Fortune's drown'd:
Then carries home the doleful News,
And strives to make the best Excuse:
Her Husband greets her with a Curse,
And well it was she far'd no worse.
The Hermit, and the Man of Fame,
Pompeus, and our Country Dame,
The wisest Judge, and my Lord May'r,
They all build Castles in the Air:
And all a secret Pleasure take
In dreaming whilst they are awake:
Pleas'd with our Fancies we possess
Friends, Honour, Women, Palaces.
When I'm alone I dare defy
Mankind for Wit and Bravery.
I beat the French in half an Hour,
Get all their Cities in my Power.
Sometimes I'm pleas'd to be a King,
That has success in every thing,
And just when all the World's my own,
Comes one to dun me for a Crown;
And presently I am the poor,
And idle Dunce I was before.
The Cock, the Cat, and the young Mouse.
A Mouse of no Experience
Was almost nabb'd for want of Sence.
Hear how the silly young one told
Her strange Adventure to the old.
I cross'd the Limits of our State,
And ran as swift as any Rat;
When suddenly I spy'd two Creatures
Of very different Form and Features.
The one look'd smiling, milde, and Civil,
The other was a very Devil;
He look'd so fierce, made such a rout,
Then tore the Ground, then turn'd about;
He ne'er stood still, upon his Head
He wore a piece of Flesh that's red;
A bunch of Tails with green and black
Stood staring higher than his back.
And thus describes the simple Mouse
A Cock he had seen behind the House,
As had it been some Beast of Prey
Brought over from America.
With insolence, says he, he strides,
And beats with his broad Arms his sides;
Then lifts his shrill and frightful Voice,
And made so terrible a Noise,
That tho' I can assure you, Mother,
I've as much Courage as another,[Pg 21]
I trembled, and as I am here,
Was forc'd to fly away for fear.
I curs'd the Bully in my thought;
For 'twas that strutting Ruffi'n's Fault;
Or else that other Beast and I
Had been acquainted presently.
He sat so quiet with such Grace,
So much good Nature in his Face,
He's furr'd like we, and on his Back
So purely streak'd with gray and black;
He has a long Tail, shining Eye,
Yet is all over Modesty.
I believe he is a near Relation
To our Allies the Rattish Nation:
His Ears and Whiskers are the same
With ours, I would have ask'd his Name,
When with his harsh and horrid sound
The other made me quit my Ground.
Replies the Mother, well 'scap'd Son,
You have been very near undone;
That formal Piece of Modesty,
That Mirror of Hypocrisy,
Was a damn'd Cat of wicked Fame;
My Heart akes at the very Name,
The everlasting Foe to Mouse,
Death and Destruction to our House.
Whereas that other Animal
Ne'er did us hurt, nor never will;
But may, when he is dead and gone,
Serve us one Day to dine upon.
Then prithee son, whate'er you do,
Take special Care of him, whom you
For such an humble Creature took,
And judge not People by their Look.
The Cock and Pearl.
A Cock, not very nicely fed,
A Dunghill raker by his Trade,
Whilst scraping in the dirt, had found
A Pearl worth Five and Twenty Pound:
He goes hard by t' a Jeweller,
And like a silly Dog, says Sir,
In yonder Rubbish lay a bit
Of something that in't good to eat,
If you think it will serve your turn,
I'll change it for a grain of Corn.
Nay sometimes Men will do as bad,
I've known a foolish Heir, that had
A Manuscript of Wit and Labour,
Say to a Bookseller his Neighbour,
I've got some Sheets my Uncle writ,
They say he was a Man of Wit,
But Books are things I don't much matter,
A Crown would do my Business better.
The Lyon's Court.
It happen'd that some Years ago,
The Lyon had a Mind to know,
What beastly Nations up and down
Belong'd to his Imperial Crown:
And therefore in his Princely care
Sends word by Letters every where,
That he would keep an open Court,
Grace it with every Royal Sport;
And so invites 'em to his Palace,
A Cave that stunk worse than the Gallows.
The Bear snorts at it, snuffles, blows,
Draws hundred Wrinkles in his Nose.
What need the Fool to have made such Faces?
The Lyon frown'd at his Grimaces,
And for the Niceness of his Smell
My Gentleman is sent to Hell.
The Monky fam'd for flattery
Extalls this Action to the Sky,
Then prais'd the King's majestick Face,
The stately building of the Place,
The Smell, whose Fragrancy so far
Exceeds all other Scents that are,
That there's no Amber, said the Sot,
But what's a house of Office to't.[Pg 24]
This gross insipid stuff the Prince }
Dislikes and calls it Impudence, }
To speak so contrary to Sence. }
And as the one was thought too free,
So th' other dy'd for Flattery.
This Lyon had the reputation
To be Caligula's Relation.
The Fox being near; the peevish King
Ask'd his Opinion of the thing.
Tell me what smell it is, be bold,
Sir, says the Fox, I've got a Cold.
If you would have your Answers please
Great Men make use of such as these.
Bluntness and bare-faced Flattery
Can never with the Court agree.
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