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

by Bernard Mandeville

Hor. This is a strange anatomy of human nature.

Cleo. Yet, for want of making use of it, the subject we are upon is not rightly understood by many; and men have discoursed very inconsistently on duelling. A divine who wrote a dialogue to explode that practice, said, that those who were guilty of it, had mistaken notions of, and went by false rules of honour; for which my friend justly ridiculed him, saying, You may as well deny, that it is the fashion what you see every body wear, as to say, that demanding and giving satisfaction, is against the laws of true honour. Had that man understood human nature, he could not have committed such a blunder: But when once he took it for granted, that honour is a just and good principle, without inquiring into the cause of it among the passions, it is impossible he should have accounted for duelling, in a Christian pretending to act from such a principle; and therefore, in another place, with the same justice, he said, that a man who had accepted a challenge was not qualified to make his will, because he was not compos mentis: He might, with greater show of reason, have said, that he was bewitched.

Hor. Why so?

Cleo. Because people out of their wits, as they think at random, so commonly they act and talk incoherently; but when a man of known sobriety, and who shows no manner of discomposure, discourses and behaves himself in every thing, as he is used to do; and, moreover, reasons on points of great nicety with the utmost accuracy, it is impossible we should take him to be either a fool or a madman; and when such a person, in an affair of the highest importance, acts so diametrically against his interest, that a child can see it, and with deliberation pursues his own destruction, those who believe that there are malignant spirits of that power, would rather imagine that he was led away by some enchantment, and over-ruled by the enemy of mankind, than they would fancy a palpable absurdity: But even the supposition of that is not sufficient to solve the difficulty, without the help of that strange anatomy. For what spell or witchcraft is there, by the delusion of which a man of understanding shall, keeping his senses, mistake an imaginary duty for an unavoidable necessity to break all real obligations? But let us wave all ties of religion, as well as human laws, and the person we speak of to be a professed Epicure, that has no thoughts of futurity; what violent power of darkness is it, that can force and compel a peaceable quiet man, neither inured to hardship, nor valiant by nature, to quit his beloved ease and security; and seemingly by choice go fight in cold blood for his life, with this comfortable reflection, that nothing forfeits it so certainly as the entire defeat of his enemy?

Hor. As to the law and the punishment, persons of quality have little to fear of that.

Cleo. You cannot say that in France, nor the Seven Provinces. But men of honour, that are of much lower ranks, decline duelling no more than those of the highest quality. How many examples have we, even here, of gallant men, that have suffered for it either by exile or the hangman! A man of honour must fear nothing: Do but consider every obstacle which this principle of self-esteem has conquered at one time or other; and then tell me whether it must not be something more than magic, by the fascination of which a man of taste and judgment, in health and vigour, as well as the flower of his age, can be tempted, and actually drawn from the embraces of a wife he loves, and the endearments of hopeful children, from polite conversation and the charms of friendship, from the fairest possessions and the happy enjoyment of all worldly pleasures, to an unwarrantable combat, of which the victor must be exposed either to an ignominious death, or perpetual banishment.

Hor. When things are set in this light, I confess it is very unaccountable: but will your system explain this; can you make it clear yourself?

Cleo. Immediately, as the sun: If you will but observe two things, that must necessarily follow, and are manifest from what I have demonstrated already. The first is, that the fear of shame, in general, is a matter of caprice, that varies with modes and customs, and may be fixed on different objects, according to the different lessons we have received, and the precepts we are imbued with; and that this is the reason, why this fear of shame, as it is either well or ill placed, sometimes produces very good effects, and at others is the cause of the most enormous crimes. Secondly, that, though shame is a real passion, the evil to be feared from it is altogether imaginary, and has no existence but in our own reflection on the opinion of others.

Hor. But there are real and substantial mischiefs which a man may draw upon himself, by misbehaving in point of honour; it may ruin his fortune, and all hopes of preferment: An officer may be broken for putting up an affront: Nobody will serve with a coward, and who will employ him?

Cleo. What you urge is altogether out of the question; at least it was in your own case; you had nothing to dread or apprehend but the bare opinion of men. Besides, when the fear of shame is superior to that of death, it is likewise superior to, and outweighs all other considerations; as has been sufficiently proved: But when the fear of shame is not violent enough to curb the fear of death, nothing else can; and whenever the fear of death is stronger than that of shame, there is no consideration that will make a man fight in cold blood, or comply with any of the laws of honour, where life is at stake. Therefore, whoever acts from the fear of shame as a motive, in sending and accepting of challenges, must be sensible, on the one hand, that the mischiefs he apprehends, should he disobey the tyrant, can only be the offspring of his own thoughts; and, on the other, that if he could be persuaded anywise to lessen the great esteem and high value he sets upon himself, his dread of shame would likewise palpably diminish. From all which, it is most evident, that the grand cause of this distraction, the powerful enchanter we are seeking after, is pride, excess of pride, that highest pitch of self-esteem, to which some men may be wound up by an artful education, and the perpetual flatteries bestowed upon our species, and the excellencies of our nature. This is the sorcerer, that is able to divert all other passions from their natural objects, and make a rational creature ashamed of what is most agreeable to his inclination, as well as his duty; both which the duellist owns, that he has knowingly acted against.