Showing posts with label a parable of small beer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a parable of small beer. Show all posts

Monday, May 11, 2009

THE GREATEST CALAMITY

The dark time between the 18th and 21st Amendments


They brewed for other countries as well as their own, and for the small beer they sent abroad, received large returns of Westphalia hams, neats' tongues, hung beef, and Bolonia sausages, red herrings, pickled sturgeons, caviare, anchovies, and everything that was proper to make their liquor go down with pleasure. Those who kept great stores of small beer by them without making use of it were generally envied, and at the same time very odious to the public, and nobody was easy that had not enough of it come to his own share. The greatest calamity they thought could befall them, was to keep their hops and barley upon their hands, and the more they yearly consume of them, the more they reckoned the country to flourish.

Continuing from Bernard De Mandeville's Parable of Small Beer.

Friday, May 8, 2009

A PARABLE OF SMALL BEER

Beer cans forming garage gutter and downspout


In old heathen times there was, they say, a whimsical country, where the people talked much of religious, and the greatest part as to outward appearance seemed really devout: the chief moral evil among them was thirst, and to quench it a damnable sin; yet they unanimously agreed that every one was born thirsty more or less: small beer in moderation was allowed to all, and he was counted an hypocrite, a cynic, or a madman, who pretended that one could live altogether without it; yet, those who owned they loved it, and drank it to excess, were counted wicked. All this while the beer itself was reckoned a blessing from heaven, and there was no harm in the use of it: all the enormity lay in the abuse, the motive of the heart, that made them drink it. He that took the least drop of it to quench his thirst, committed a heinous crime, whilst others drank large quantities without any guilt, so they did it indifferently, and for no other reason than to mend their complexion.


From A Parable of Small Beer by Benard De Mandeville.