{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_2130/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_2130","id":"gutenberg_2130","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2130","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Harvard Classics","Politics","Utopias -- Early works to 1800"],"text":"Utopia\n\nby Thomas More\n\n\nContents\n\n INTRODUCTION\n DISCOURSES OF RAPHAEL HYTHLODAY, OF THE BEST STATE OF A COMMONWEALTH\n OF THEIR TOWNS, PARTICULARLY OF AMAUROT\n OF THEIR MAGISTRATES\n OF THEIR TRADES, AND MANNER OF LIFE\n OF THEIR TRAFFIC\n OF THE TRAVELLING OF THE UTOPIANS\n OF THEIR SLAVES, AND OF THEIR MARRIAGES\n OF THEIR MILITARY DISCIPLINE\n OF THE RELIGIONS OF THE UTOPIANS\n\n\n\n\nUTOPIA\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nSir Thomas More, son of Sir John More, a justice of the King\u2019s Bench,\nwas born in 1478, in Milk Street, in the city of London. After his\nearlier education at St. Anthony\u2019s School, in Threadneedle Street, he\nwas placed, as a boy, in the household of Cardinal John Morton,\nArchbishop of Canterbury and Lord Chancellor. It was not unusual for\npersons of wealth or influence and sons of good families to be so\nestablished together in a relation of patron and client. The youth wore\nhis patron\u2019s livery, and added to his state. The patron used,\nafterwards, his wealth or influence in helping his young client forward\nin the world. Cardinal Morton had been in earlier days that Bishop of\nEly whom Richard III. sent to the Tower; was busy afterwards in\nhostility to Richard; and was a chief adviser of Henry VII., who in\n1486 made him Archbishop of Canterbury, and nine months afterwards Lord\nChancellor. Cardinal Morton\u2014of talk at whose table there are\nrecollections in \u201cUtopia\u201d\u2014delighted in the quick wit of young Thomas\nMore. He once said, \u201cWhoever shall live to try it, shall see this child\nhere waiting at table prove a notable and rare man.\u201d\n\nAt the age of about nineteen, Thomas More was sent to Canterbury\nCollege, Oxford, by his patron, where he learnt Greek of the first men\nwho brought Greek studies from Italy to England\u2014William Grocyn and\nThomas Linacre. Linacre, a physician, who afterwards took orders, was\nalso the founder of the College of Physicians. In 1499, More left\nOxford to study law in London, at Lincoln\u2019s Inn, and in the next year\nArchbishop Morton died.\n\nMore\u2019s earnest character caused him while studying law to aim at the\nsubduing of the flesh, by wearing a hair shirt, taking a log for a\npillow, and whipping himself on Fridays. At the age of twenty-one he\nentered Parliament, and soon after he had been called to the bar he was\nmade Under-Sheriff of London. In 1503 he opposed in the House of\nCommons Henry VII.\u2019s proposal for a subsidy on account of the marriage\nportion of his daughter Margaret; and he opposed with so much energy\nthat the House refused to grant it. One went and told the king that a\nbeardless boy had disappointed all his expectations. During the last\nyears, therefore, of Henry VII. More was under the displeasure of the\nking, and had thoughts of leaving the country.\n\nHenry VII. died in April, 1509, when More\u2019s age was a little over\nthirty. In the first years of the reign of Henry VIII. he rose to large\npractice in the law courts, where it is said he refused to plead in\ncases which he thought unjust, and took no fees from widows, orphans,\nor the poor. He would have preferred marrying the second daughter of\nJohn Colt, of New Hall, in Essex, but chose her elder sister, that he\nmight not subject her to the discredit of being passed over.\n\nIn 1513 Thomas More, still Under-Sheriff of London, is said to have\nwritten his \u201cHistory of the Life and Death of King Edward V., and of\nthe Usurpation of Richard III.\u201d The book, which seems to contain the\nknowledge and opinions of More\u2019s patron, Morton, was not printed until\n1557, when its writer had been twenty-two years dead. It was then\nprinted from a MS. in More\u2019s handwriting.\n\nIn the year 1515 Wolsey, Archbishop of York, was made Cardinal by Leo\nX.; Henry VIII. made him Lord Chancellor, and from that year until 1523\nthe King and the Cardinal ruled England with absolute authority, and\ncalled no parliament. In May of the year 1515 Thomas More\u2014not knighted\nyet\u2014was joined in a commission to the Low Countries with Cuthbert\nTunstal and others to confer with the ambassadors of Charles V., then\nonly Archduke of Austria, upon a renewal of alliance. On that embassy\nMore, aged about thirty-seven, was absent from England for six months,\nand while at Antwerp he established friendship with Peter Giles\n(Latinised \u00c6gidius), a scholarly and courteous young man, who was\nsecretary to the municipality of Antwerp.\n\nCuthbert Tunstal was a rising churchman, chancellor to the Archbishop\nof Canterbury, who in that year (1515) was made Archdeacon of Chester,\nand in May of the next year (1516) Master of the Rolls. In 1516 he was\nsent again to the Low Countries, and More then went with him to\nBrussels, where they were in close companionship with Erasmus.\n\nMore\u2019s \u201cUtopia\u201d was written in Latin, and is in two parts, of which the\nsecond, describing the place ([Greek text]\u2014or Nusquama, as he called it\nsometimes in his letters\u2014\u201cNowhere\u201d), was probably written towards the\nclose of 1515; the first part, introductory, early in 1516. The book\nwas first printed at Louvain, late in 1516, under the editorship of\nErasmus, Peter Giles, and other of More\u2019s friends in Flanders. It was\nthen revised by More, and printed by Frobenius at Basle in November,\n1518. It was reprinted at Paris and Vienna, but was not printed in\nEngland during More\u2019s lifetime. Its first publication in this country\nwas in the English translation, made in Edward\u2019s VI.\u2019s reign (1551) by\nRalph Robinson. It was translated with more literary skill by Gilbert\nBurnet, in 1684, soon after he had conducted the defence of his friend\nLord William Russell, attended his execution, vindicated his memory,\nand been spitefully deprived by James II. of his lectureship at St.\nClement\u2019s. Burnet was drawn to the translation of \u201cUtopia\u201d by the same\nsense of unreason in high places that caused More to write the book.\nBurnet\u2019s is the translation given in this volume.\n\nThe name of the book has given an adjective to our language\u2014we call an\nimpracticable scheme Utopian. Yet, under the veil of a playful fiction,\nthe talk is intensely earnest, and abounds in practical suggestion. It\nis the work of a scholarly and witty Englishman, who attacks in his own\nway the chief political and social evils of his time. Beginning with\nfact, More tells how he was sent into Flanders with Cuthbert Tunstal,\n\u201cwhom the king\u2019s majesty of late, to the great rejoicing of all men,\ndid prefer to the office of Master of the Rolls;\u201d how the commissioners\nof Charles met them at Bruges, and presently returned to Brussels for\ninstructions; and how More then went to Antwerp, where he found a\npleasure in the society of Peter Giles which soothed his desire to see\nagain his wife and children, from whom he had been four months away.\nThen fact slides into fiction with the finding of Raphael Hythloday\n(whose name, made of two Greek words [Greek text] and [Greek text],\nmeans \u201cknowing in trifles\u201d), a man who had been with Amerigo Vespucci\nin the three last of the voyages to the new world lately discovered, of\nwhich the account had been first printed in 1507, only nine years\nbefore Utopia was written.\n\nDesignedly fantastic in suggestion of details, \u201cUtopia\u201d is the work of\na scholar who had read Plato\u2019s \u201cRepublic,\u201d and had his fancy quickened\nafter reading Plutarch\u2019s account of Spartan life under Lycurgus.\nBeneath the veil of an ideal communism, into which there has been\nworked some witty extravagance, there lies a noble English argument.\nSometimes More puts the case as of France when he means England.\nSometimes there is ironical praise of the good faith of Christian\nkings, saving the book from censure as a political attack on the policy\nof Henry VIII. Erasmus wrote to a friend in 1517 that he should send\nfor More\u2019s \u201cUtopia,\u201d if he had not read it, and \u201cwished to see the true\nsource of all political evils.\u201d And to More Erasmus wrote of his book,\n\u201cA burgomaster of Antwerp is so pleased with it that he knows it all by\nheart.\u201d\n\nH. M.\n\n\n\n\nDISCOURSES OF RAPHAEL HYTHLODAY, OF THE BEST STATE OF A COMMONWEALTH\n\n\nHenry VIII., the unconquered King of England, a prince adorned with all\nthe virtues that become a great monarch, having some differences of no\nsmall consequence with Charles the most serene Prince of Castile, sent\nme into Flanders, as his ambassador, for treating and composing matters\nbetween them. I was colleague and companion to that incomparable man\nCuthbert Tonstal, whom the King, with such universal applause, lately\nmade Master of the Rolls; but of whom I will say nothing; not because I\nfear that the testimony of a friend will be suspected, but rather\nbecause his learning and virtues are too great for me to do them\njustice, and so well known, that they need not my commendations, unless\nI would, according to the proverb, \u201cShow the sun with a lantern.\u201d Those\nthat were appointed by the Prince to treat with us, met us at Bruges,\naccording to agreement; they were all worthy men. The Margrave of\nBruges was their head, and the chief man among them; but he that was\nesteemed the wisest, and that spoke for the rest, was George Temse, the\nProvost of Casselsee: both art and nature had concurred to make him\neloquent: he was very learned in the law; and, as he had a great\ncapacity, so, by a long practice in affairs, he was very dexterous at\nunravelling them. After we had several times met, without coming to an\nagreement, they went to Brussels for some days, to know the Prince\u2019s\npleasure; and, since our business would admit it, I went to Antwerp.\nWhile I was there, among many that visited me, there was one that was\nmore acceptable to me than any other, Peter Giles, born at Antwerp, who\nis a man of great honour, and of a good rank in his town, though less\nthan he deserves; for I do not know if there be anywhere to be found a\nmore learned and a better bred young man; for as he is both a very\nworthy and a very knowing person, so he is so civil to all men, so\nparticularly kind to his friends, and so full of candour and affection,\nthat there is not, perhaps, above one or two anywhere to be found, that\nis in all respects so perfect a friend: he is extraordinarily modest,\nthere is no artifice in him, and yet no man has more of a prudent\nsimplicity. His conversation was so pleasant and so innocently\ncheerful, that his company in a great measure lessened any longings to\ngo back to my country, and to my wife and children, which an absence of\nfour months had quickened very much. One day, as I was returning home\nfrom mass at St. Mary\u2019s, which is the chief church, and the most\nfrequented of any in Antwerp, I saw him, by accident, talking with a\nstranger, who seemed past the flower of his age; his face was tanned,\nhe had a long beard, and his cloak was hanging carelessly about him, so\nthat, by his looks and habit, I concluded he was a seaman. As soon as\nPeter saw me, he came and saluted me, and as I was returning his\ncivility, he took me aside, and pointing to him with whom he had been\ndiscoursing, he said, \u201cDo you see that man? I was just thinking to\nbring him to you.\u201d I answered, \u201cHe should have been very welcome on\nyour account.\u201d \u201cAnd on his own too,\u201d replied he, \u201cif you knew the man,\nfor there is none alive that can give so copious an account of unknown\nnations and countries as he can do, which I know you very much desire.\u201d\n\u201cThen,\u201d said I, \u201cI did not guess amiss, for at first sight I took him\nfor a seaman.\u201d \u201cBut you are much mistaken,\u201d said he, \u201cfor he has not\nsailed as a seaman, but as a traveller, or rather a philosopher. This\nRaphael, who from his family carries the name of Hythloday, is not\nignorant of the Latin tongue, but is eminently learned in the Greek,\nhaving applied himself more particularly to that than to the former,\nbecause he had given himself much to philosophy, in which he knew that\nthe Romans have left us nothing that is valuable, except what is to be\nfound in Seneca and Cicero. He is a Portuguese by birth, and was so\ndesirous of seeing the world, that he divided his estate among his\nbrothers, ran the same hazard as Americus Vesputius, and bore a share\nin three of his four voyages that are now published; only he did not\nreturn with him in his last, but obtained leave of him, almost by\nforce, that he might be one of those twenty-four who were left at the\nfarthest place at which they touched in their last voyage to New\nCastile. The leaving him thus did not a little gratify one that was\nmore fond of travelling than of returning home to be buried in his own\ncountry; for he used often to say, that the way to heaven was the same\nfrom all places, and he that had no grave had the heavens still over\nhim. Yet this disposition of mind had cost him dear, if God had not\nbeen very gracious to him; for after he, with five Castalians, had\ntravelled over many countries, at last, by strange good fortune, he got\nto Ceylon, and from thence to Calicut, where he, very happily, found\nsome Portuguese ships; and, beyond all men\u2019s expectations, returned to\nhis native country.\u201d When Peter had said this to me, I thanked him for\nhis kindness in intending to give me the acquaintance of a man whose\nconversation he knew would be so acceptable; and upon that Raphael and\nI embraced each other. After those civilities were past which are usual\nwith strangers upon their first meeting, we all went to my house, and\nentering into the garden, sat down on a green bank and entertained one\nanother in discourse. He told us that when Vesputius had sailed away,\nhe, and his companions that stayed behind in New Castile, by degrees\ninsinuated themselves into the affections of the people of the country,\nmeeting often with them and treating them gently; and at last they not\nonly lived among them without danger, but conversed familiarly with\nthem, and got so far into the heart of a prince, whose name and country\nI have forgot, that he both furnished them plentifully with all things\nnecessary, and also with the conveniences of travelling, both boats\nwhen they went by water, and waggons when they travelled over land: he\nsent with them a very faithful guide, who was to introduce and\nrecommend them to such other princes as they had a mind to see: and\nafter many days\u2019 journey, they came to towns, and cities, and to\ncommonwealths, that were both happily governed and well peopled. Under\nthe equator, and as far on both sides of it as the sun moves, there lay\nvast deserts that were parched with the perpetual heat of the sun; the\nsoil was withered, all things looked dismally, and all places were\neither quite uninhabited, or abounded with wild beasts and serpents,\nand some few men, that were neither less wild nor less cruel than the\nbeasts themselves. But, as they went farther, a new scene opened, all\nthings grew milder, the air less burning, the soil more verdant, and\neven the beasts were less wild: and, at last, there were nations,\ntowns, and cities, that had not only mutual commerce among themselves\nand with their neighbours, but traded, both by sea and land, to very\nremote countries. There they found the conveniencies of seeing many\ncountries on all hands, for no ship went any voyage into which he and\nhis companions were not very welcome. The first vessels that they saw\nwere flat-bottomed, their sails were made of reeds and wicker, woven\nclose together, only some were of leather; but, afterwards, they found\nships made with round keels and canvas sails, and in all respects like\nour ships, and the seamen understood both astronomy and navigation. He\ngot wonderfully into their favour by showing them the use of the\nneedle, of which till then they were utterly ignorant. They sailed\nbefore with great caution, and only in summer time; but now they count\nall seasons alike, trusting wholly to the loadstone, in which they are,\nperhaps, more secure than safe; so that there is reason to fear that\nthis discovery, which was thought would prove so much to their\nadvantage, may, by their imprudence, become an occasion of much\nmischief to them. But it were too long to dwell on all that he told us\nhe had observed in every place, it would be too great a digression from\nour present purpose: whatever is necessary to be told concerning those\nwise and prudent institutions which he observed among civilised\nnations, may perhaps be related by us on a more proper occasion. We\nasked him many questions concerning all these things, to which he\nanswered very willingly; we made no inquiries after monsters, than\nwhich nothing is more common; for everywhere one may hear of ravenous\ndogs and wolves, and cruel men-eaters, but it is not so easy to find\nstates that are well and wisely governed.\n\nAs he told us of many things that were amiss in those new-discovered\ncountries, so he reckoned up not a few things, from which patterns\nmight be taken for correcting the errors of these nations among whom we\nlive; of which an account may be given, as I have already promised, at\nsome other time; for, at present, I intend only to relate those\nparticulars that he told us, of the manners and laws of the Utopians:\nbut I will begin with the occasion that led us to speak of that\ncommonwealth. After Raphael had discoursed with great judgment on the\nmany errors that were both among us and these nations, had treated of\nthe wise institutions both here and there, and had spoken as distinctly\nof the customs and government of every nation through which he had\npast, as if he had spent his whole life in it, Peter, being struck with\nadmiration, said, \u201cI wonder, Raphael, how it comes that you enter into\nno king\u2019s service, for I am sure there are none to whom you would not\nbe very acceptable; for your learning and knowledge, both of men and\nthings, is such, that you would not only entertain them very\npleasantly, but be of great use to them, by the examples you could set\nbefore them, and the advices you could give them; and by this means you\nwould both serve your own interest, and be of great use to all your\nfriends.\u201d \u201cAs for my friends,\u201d answered he, \u201cI need not be much\nconcerned, having already done for them all that was incumbent on me;\nfor when I was not only in good health, but fresh and young, I\ndistributed that among my kindred and friends which other people do not\npart with till they are old and sick: when they then unwillingly give\nthat which they can enjoy no longer themselves. I think my friends\nought to rest contented with this, and not to expect that for their\nsakes I should enslave myself to any king whatsoever.\u201d \u201cSoft and fair!\u201d\nsaid Peter; \u201cI do not mean that you should be a slave to any king, but\nonly that you should assist them and be useful to them.\u201d \u201cThe change of\nthe word,\u201d said he, \u201cdoes not alter the matter.\u201d \u201cBut term it as you\nwill,\u201d replied Peter, \u201cI do not see any other way in which you can be\nso useful, both in private to your friends and to the public, and by\nwhich you can make your own condition happier.\u201d \u201cHappier?\u201d answered\nRaphael, \u201cis that to be compassed in a way so abhorrent to my genius?\nNow I live as I will, to which I believe, few courtiers can pretend;\nand there are so many that court the favour of great men, that there\nwill be no great loss if they are not troubled either with me or with\nothers of my temper.\u201d Upon this, said I, \u201cI perceive, Raphael, that you\nneither desire wealth nor greatness; and, indeed, I value and admire\nsuch a man much more than I do any of the great men in the world. Yet I\nthink you would do what would well become so generous and philosophical\na soul as yours is, if you would apply your time and thoughts to public\naffairs, even though you may happen to find it a little uneasy to\nyourself; and this you can never do with so much advantage as by being\ntaken into the council of some great prince and putting him on noble\nand worthy actions, which I know you would do if you were in such a\npost; for the springs both of good and evil flow from the prince over a\nwhole nation, as from a lasting fountain. So much learning as you have,\neven without practice in affairs, or so great a practice as you have\nhad, without any other learning, would render you a very fit counsellor\nto any king whatsoever.\u201d \u201cYou are doubly mistaken,\u201d said he, \u201cMr. More,\nboth in your opinion of me and in the judgment you make of things: for\nas I have not that capacity that you fancy I have, so if I had it, the\npublic would not be one jot the better when I had sacrificed my quiet\nto it. For most princes apply themselves more to affairs of war than to\nthe useful arts of peace; and in these I neither have any knowledge,\nnor do I much desire it; they are generally more set on acquiring new\nkingdoms, right or wrong, than on governing well those they possess:\nand, among the ministers of princes, there are none that are not so\nwise as to need no assistance, or at least, that do not think\nthemselves so wise that they imagine they need none; and if they court\nany, it is only those for whom the prince has much personal favour,\nwhom by their fawning and flatteries they endeavour to fix to their own\ninterests; and, indeed, nature has so made us, that we all love to be\nflattered and to please ourselves with our own notions: the old crow\nloves his young, and the ape her cubs. Now if in such a court, made up\nof persons who envy all others and only admire themselves, a person\nshould but propose anything that he had either read in history or\nobserved in his travels, the rest would think that the reputation of\ntheir wisdom would sink, and that their interests would be much\ndepressed if they could not run it down: and, if all other things\nfailed, then they would fly to this, that such or such things pleased\nour ancestors, and it were well for us if we could but match them. They\nwould set up their rest on such an answer, as a sufficient confutation\nof all that could be said, as if it were a great misfortune that any\nshould be found wiser than his ancestors. But though they willingly let\ngo all the good things that were among those of former ages, yet, if\nbetter things are proposed, they cover themselves obstinately with this\nexcuse of reverence to past times. I have met with these proud, morose,\nand absurd judgments of things in many places, particularly once in\nEngland.\u201d \u201cWere you ever there?\u201d said I. \u201cYes, I was,\u201d answered he,\n\u201cand stayed some months there, not long after the rebellion in the West\nwas suppressed, with a great slaughter of the poor people that were\nengaged in it.\n\n\u201cI was then much obliged to that reverend prelate, John Morton,\nArchbishop of Canterbury, Cardinal, and Chancellor of England; a man,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cPeter (for Mr. More knows well what he was), that was not\nless venerable for his wisdom and virtues than for the high character\nhe bore: he was of a middle stature, not broken with age; his looks\nbegot reverence rather than fear; his conversation was easy, but\nserious and grave; he sometimes took pleasure to try the force of those\nthat came as suitors to him upon business by speaking sharply, though\ndecently, to them, and by that he discovered their spirit and presence\nof mind; with which he was much delighted when it did not grow up to\nimpudence, as bearing a great resemblance to his own temper, and he\nlooked on such persons as the fittest men for affairs. He spoke both\ngracefully and weightily; he was eminently skilled in the law, had a\nvast understanding, and a prodigious memory; and those excellent\ntalents with which nature had furnished him were improved by study and\nexperience. When I was in England the King depended much on his\ncounsels, and the Government seemed to be chiefly supported by him; for\nfrom his youth he had been all along practised in affairs; and, having\npassed through many traverses of fortune, he had, with great cost,\nacquired a vast stock of wisdom, which is not soon lost when it is\npurchased so dear. One day, when I was dining with him, there happened\nto be at table one of the English lawyers, who took occasion to run out\nin a high commendation of the severe execution of justice upon thieves,\n\u2018who,\u2019 as he said, \u2018were then hanged so fast that there were sometimes\ntwenty on one gibbet!\u2019 and, upon that, he said, \u2018he could not wonder\nenough how it came to pass that, since so few escaped, there were yet\nso many thieves left, who were still robbing in all places.\u2019 Upon this,\nI (who took the boldness to speak freely before the Cardinal) said,\n\u2018There was no reason to wonder at the matter, since this way of\npunishing thieves was neither just in itself nor good for the public;\nfor, as the severity was too great, so the remedy was not effectual;\nsimple theft not being so great a crime that it ought to cost a man his\nlife; no punishment, how severe soever, being able to restrain those\nfrom robbing who can find out no other way of livelihood. In this,\u2019\nsaid I, \u2018not only you in England, but a great part of the world,\nimitate some ill masters, that are readier to chastise their scholars\nthan to teach them. There are dreadful punishments enacted against\nthieves, but it were much better to make such good provisions by which\nevery man might be put in a method how to live, and so be preserved\nfrom the fatal necessity of stealing and of dying for it.\u2019 \u2018There has\nbeen care enough taken for that,\u2019 said he; \u2018there are many handicrafts,\nand there is husbandry, by which they may make a shift to live, unless\nthey have a greater mind to follow ill courses.\u2019 \u2018That will not serve\nyour turn,\u2019 said I, \u2018for many lose their limbs in civil or foreign\nwars, as lately in the Cornish rebellion, and some time ago in your\nwars with France, who, being thus mutilated in the service of their\nking and country, can no more follow their old trades, and are too old\nto learn new ones; but since wars are only accidental things, and have\nintervals, let us consider those things that fall out every day. There\nis a great number of noblemen among you that are themselves as idle as\ndrones, that subsist on other men\u2019s labour, on the labour of their\ntenants, whom, to raise their revenues, they pare to the quick. This,\nindeed, is the only instance of their frugality, for in all other\nthings they are prodigal, even to the beggaring of themselves; but,\nbesides this, they carry about with them a great number of idle\nfellows, who never learned any art by which they may gain their living;\nand these, as soon as either their lord dies, or they themselves fall\nsick, are turned out of doors; for your lords are readier to feed idle\npeople than to take care of the sick; and often the heir is not able to\nkeep together so great a family as his predecessor did. Now, when the\nstomachs of those that are thus turned out of doors grow keen, they rob\nno less keenly; and what else can they do? For when, by wandering\nabout, they have worn out both their health and their clothes, and are\ntattered, and look ghastly, men of quality will not entertain them, and\npoor men dare not do it, knowing that one who has been bred up in\nidleness and pleasure, and who was used to walk about with his sword\nand buckler, despising all the neighbourhood with an insolent scorn as\nfar below him, is not fit for the spade and mattock; nor will he serve\na poor man for so small a hire and in so low a diet as he can afford to\ngive him.\u2019 To this he answered, \u2018This sort of men ought to be\nparticularly cherished, for in them consists the force of the armies\nfor which we have occasion; since their birth inspires them with a\nnobler sense of honour than is to be found among tradesmen or\nploughmen.\u2019 \u2018You may as well say,\u2019 replied I, \u2018that you must cherish\nthieves on the account of wars, for you will never want the one as long\nas you have the other; and as robbers prove sometimes gallant soldiers,\nso soldiers often prove brave robbers, so near an alliance there is\nbetween those two sorts of life. But this bad custom, so common among\nyou, of keeping many servants, is not peculiar to this nation. In\nFrance there is yet a more pestiferous sort of people, for the whole\ncountry is full of soldiers, still kept up in time of peace (if such a\nstate of a nation can be called a peace); and these are kept in pay\nupon the same account that you plead for those idle retainers about\nnoblemen: this being a maxim of those pretended statesmen, that it is\nnecessary for the public safety to have a good body of veteran soldiers\never in readiness. They think raw men are not to be depended on, and\nthey sometimes seek occasions for making war, that they may train up\ntheir soldiers in the art of cutting throats, or, as Sallust observed,\n\u201cfor keeping their hands in use, that they may not grow dull by too\nlong an intermission.\u201d But France has learned to its cost how dangerous\nit is to feed such beasts. The fate of the Romans, Carthaginians, and\nSyrians, and many other nations and cities, which were both overturned\nand quite ruined by those standing armies, should make others wiser;\nand the folly of this maxim of the French appears plainly even from\nthis, that their trained soldiers often find your raw men prove too\nhard for them, of which I will not say much, lest you may think I\nflatter the English. Every day\u2019s experience shows that the mechanics in\nthe towns or the clowns in the country are not afraid of fighting with\nthose idle gentlemen, if they are not disabled by some misfortune in\ntheir body or dispirited by extreme want; so that you need not fear\nthat those well-shaped and strong men (for it is only such that\nnoblemen love to keep about them till they spoil them), who now grow\nfeeble with ease and are softened with their effeminate manner of life,\nwould be less fit for action if they were well bred and well employed.\nAnd it seems very unreasonable that, for the prospect of a war, which\nyou need never have but when you please, you should maintain so many\nidle men, as will always disturb you in time of peace, which is ever to\nbe more considered than war. But I do not think that this necessity of\nstealing arises only from hence; there is another cause of it, more\npeculiar to England.\u2019 \u2018What is that?\u2019 said the Cardinal: \u2018The increase\nof pasture,\u2019 said I, \u2018by which your sheep, which are naturally mild,\nand easily kept in order, may be said now to devour men and unpeople,\nnot only villages, but towns; for wherever it is found that the sheep\nof any soil yield a softer and richer wool than ordinary, there the\nnobility and gentry, and even those holy men, the abbots! not contented\nwith the old rents which their farms yielded, nor thinking it enough\nthat they, living at their ease, do no good to the public, resolve to\ndo it hurt instead of good. They stop the course of agriculture,\ndestroying houses and towns, reserving only the churches, and enclose\ngrounds that they may lodge their sheep in them. As if forests and\nparks had swallowed up too little of the land, those worthy countrymen\nturn the best inhabited places into solitudes; for when an insatiable\nwretch, who is a plague to his country, resolves to enclose many\nthousand acres of ground, the owners, as well as tenants, are turned\nout of their possessions by trick or by main force, or, being wearied\nout by ill usage, they are forced to sell them; by which means those\nmiserable people, both men and women, married and unmarried, old and\nyoung, with their poor but numerous families (since country business\nrequires many hands), are all forced to change their seats, not knowing\nwhither to go; and they must sell, almost for nothing, their household\nstuff, which could not bring them much money, even though they might\nstay for a buyer. When that little money is at an end (for it will be\nsoon spent), what is left for them to do but either to steal, and so to\nbe hanged (God knows how justly!), or to go about and beg? and if they\ndo this they are put in prison as idle vagabonds, while they would\nwillingly work but can find none that will hire them; for there is no\nmore occasion for country labour, to which they have been bred, when\nthere is no arable ground left. One shepherd can look after a flock,\nwhich will stock an extent of ground that would require many hands if\nit were to be ploughed and reaped. This, likewise, in many places\nraises the price of corn. The price of wool is also so risen that the\npoor people, who were wont to make cloth, are no more able to buy it;\nand this, likewise, makes many of them idle: for since the increase of\npasture God has punished the avarice of the owners by a rot among the\nsheep, which has destroyed vast numbers of them\u2014to us it might have\nseemed more just had it fell on the owners themselves. But, suppose the\nsheep should increase ever so much, their price is not likely to fall;\nsince, though they cannot be called a monopoly, because they are not\nengrossed by one person, yet they are in so few hands, and these are so\nrich, that, as they are not pressed to sell them sooner than they have\na mind to it, so they never do it till they have raised the price as\nhigh as possible. And on the same account it is that the other kinds of\ncattle are so dear, because many villages being pulled down, and all\ncountry labour being much neglected, there are none who make it their\nbusiness to breed them. The rich do not breed cattle as they do sheep,\nbut buy them lean and at low prices; and, after they have fattened them\non their grounds, sell them again at high rates. And I do not think\nthat all the inconveniences this will produce are yet observed; for, as\nthey sell the cattle dear, so, if they are consumed faster than the\nbreeding countries from which they are brought can afford them, then\nthe stock must decrease, and this must needs end in great scarcity; and\nby these means, this your island, which seemed as to this particular\nthe happiest in the world, will suffer much by the cursed avarice of a\nfew persons: besides this, the rising of corn makes all people lessen\ntheir families as much as they can; and what can those who are\ndismissed by them do but either beg or rob? And to this last a man of a\ngreat mind is much sooner drawn than to the former. Luxury likewise\nbreaks in apace upon you to set forward your poverty and misery; there\nis an excessive vanity in apparel, and great cost in diet, and that not\nonly in noblemen\u2019s families, but even among tradesmen, among the\nfarmers themselves, and among all ranks of persons. You have also many\ninfamous houses, and, besides those that are known, the taverns and\nale-houses are no better; add to these dice, cards, tables, football,\ntennis, and quoits, in which money runs fast away; and those that are\ninitiated into them must, in the conclusion, betake themselves to\nrobbing for a supply. Banish these plagues, and give orders that those\nwho have dispeopled so much soil may either rebuild the villages they\nhave pulled down or let out their grounds to such as will do it;\nrestrain those engrossings of the rich, that are as bad almost as\nmonopolies; leave fewer occasions to idleness; let agriculture be set\nup again, and the manufacture of the wool be regulated, that so there\nmay be work found for those companies of idle people whom want forces\nto be thieves, or who now, being idle vagabonds or useless servants,\nwill certainly grow thieves at last. If you do not find a remedy to\nthese evils it is a vain thing to boast of your severity in punishing\ntheft, which, though it may have the appearance of justice, yet in\nitself is neither just nor convenient; for if you suffer your people to\nbe ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted from their infancy,\nand then punish them for those crimes to which their first education\ndisposed them, what else is to be concluded from this but that you\nfirst make thieves and then punish them?\u2019\n\n\u201cWhile I was talking thus, the Counsellor, who was present, had\nprepared an answer, and had resolved to resume all I had said,\naccording to the formality of a debate, in which things are generally\nrepeated more faithfully than they are answered, as if the chief trial\nto be made were of men\u2019s memories. \u2018You have talked prettily, for a\nstranger,\u2019 said he, \u2018having heard of many things among us which you\nhave not been able to consider well; but I will make the whole matter\nplain to you, and will first repeat in order all that you have said;\nthen I will show how much your ignorance of our affairs has misled you;\nand will, in the last place, answer all your arguments. And, that I may\nbegin where I promised, there were four things\u2014\u2019 \u2018Hold your peace!\u2019\nsaid the Cardinal; \u2018this will take up too much time; therefore we will,\nat present, ease you of the trouble of answering, and reserve it to our\nnext meeting, which shall be to-morrow, if Raphael\u2019s affairs and yours\ncan admit of it. But, Raphael,\u2019 said he to me, \u2018I would gladly know\nupon what reason it is that you think theft ought not to be punished by\ndeath: would you give way to it? or do you propose any other punishment\nthat will be more useful to the public? for, since death does not\nrestrain theft, if men thought their lives would be safe, what fear or\nforce could restrain ill men? On the contrary, they would look on the\nmitigation of the punishment as an invitation to commit more crimes.\u2019 I\nanswered, \u2018It seems to me a very unjust thing to take away a man\u2019s life\nfor a little money, for nothing in the world can be of equal value with\na man\u2019s life: and if it be said, \u201cthat it is not for the money that one\nsuffers, but for his breaking the law,\u201d I must say, extreme justice is\nan extreme injury: for we ought not to approve of those terrible laws\nthat make the smallest offences capital, nor of that opinion of the\nStoics that makes all crimes equal; as if there were no difference to\nbe made between the killing a man and the taking his purse, between\nwhich, if we examine things impartially, there is no likeness nor\nproportion. God has commanded us not to kill, and shall we kill so\neasily for a little money? But if one shall say, that by that law we\nare only forbid to kill any except when the laws of the land allow of\nit, upon the same grounds, laws may be made, in some cases, to allow of\nadultery and perjury: for God having taken from us the right of\ndisposing either of our own or of other people\u2019s lives, if it is\npretended that the mutual consent of men in making laws can authorise\nman-slaughter in cases in which God has given us no example, that it\nfrees people from the obligation of the divine law, and so makes murder\na lawful action, what is this, but to give a preference to human laws\nbefore the divine? and, if this is once admitted, by the same rule men\nmay, in all other things, put what restrictions they please upon the\nlaws of God. If, by the Mosaical law, though it was rough and severe,\nas being a yoke laid on an obstinate and servile nation, men were only\nfined, and not put to death for theft, we cannot imagine, that in this\nnew law of mercy, in which God treats us with the tenderness of a\nfather, He has given us a greater licence to cruelty than He did to the\nJews. Upon these reasons it is, that I think putting thieves to death\nis not lawful; and it is plain and obvious that it is absurd and of ill\nconsequence to the commonwealth that a thief and a murderer should be\nequally punished; for if a robber sees that his danger is the same if\nhe is convicted of theft as if he were guilty of murder, this will\nnaturally incite him to kill the person whom otherwise he would only\nhave robbed; since, if the punishment is the same, there is more\nsecurity, and less danger of discovery, when he that can best make it\nis put out of the way; so that terrifying thieves too much provokes\nthem to cruelty.\n\n\u201cBut as to the question, \u2018What more convenient way of punishment can be\nfound?\u2019 I think it much easier to find out that than to invent anything\nthat is worse; why should we doubt but the way that was so long in use\namong the old Romans, who understood so well the arts of government,\nwas very proper for their punishment? They condemned such as they found\nguilty of great crimes to work their whole lives in quarries, or to dig\nin mines with chains about them. But the method that I liked best was\nthat which I observed in my travels in Persia, among the Polylerits,\nwho are a considerable and well-governed people: they pay a yearly\ntribute to the King of Persia, but in all other respects they are a\nfree nation, and governed by their own laws: they lie far from the sea,\nand are environed with hills; and, being contented with the productions\nof their own country, which is very fruitful, they have little commerce\nwith any other nation; and as they, according to the genius of their\ncountry, have no inclination to enlarge their borders, so their\nmountains and the pension they pay to the Persian, secure them from all\ninvasions. Thus they have no wars among them; they live rather\nconveniently than with splendour, and may be rather called a happy\nnation than either eminent or famous; for I do not think that they are\nknown, so much as by name, to any but their next neighbours. Those that\nare found guilty of theft among them are bound to make restitution to\nthe owner, and not, as it is in other places, to the prince, for they\nreckon that the prince has no more right to the stolen goods than the\nthief; but if that which was stolen is no more in being, then the goods\nof the thieves are estimated, and restitution being made out of them,\nthe remainder is given to their wives and children; and they themselves\nare condemned to serve in the public works, but are neither imprisoned\nnor chained, unless there happens to be some extraordinary circumstance\nin their crimes. They go about loose and free, working for the public:\nif they are idle or backward to work they are whipped, but if they work\nhard they are well used and treated without any mark of reproach; only\nthe lists of them are called always at night, and then they are shut\nup. They suffer no other uneasiness but this of constant labour; for,\nas they work for the public, so they are well entertained out of the\npublic stock, which is done differently in different places: in some\nplaces whatever is bestowed on them is raised by a charitable\ncontribution; and, though this way may seem uncertain, yet so merciful\nare the inclinations of that people, that they are plentifully supplied\nby it; but in other places public revenues are set aside for them, or\nthere is a constant tax or poll-money raised for their maintenance. In\nsome places they are set to no public work, but every private man that\nhas occasion to hire workmen goes to the market-places and hires them\nof the public, a little lower than he would do a freeman. If they go\nlazily about their task he may quicken them with the whip. By this\nmeans there is always some piece of work or other to be done by them;\nand, besides their livelihood, they earn somewhat still to the public.\nThey all wear a peculiar habit, of one certain colour, and their hair\nis cropped a little above their ears, and a piece of one of their ears\nis cut off. Their friends are allowed to give them either meat, drink,\nor clothes, so they are of their proper colour; but it is death, both\nto the giver and taker, if they give them money; nor is it less penal\nfor any freeman to take money from them upon any account whatsoever:\nand it is also death for any of these slaves (so they are called) to\nhandle arms. Those of every division of the country are distinguished\nby a peculiar mark, which it is capital for them to lay aside, to go\nout of their bounds, or to talk with a slave of another jurisdiction,\nand the very attempt of an escape is no less penal than an escape\nitself. It is death for any other slave to be accessory to it; and if a\nfreeman engages in it he is condemned to slavery. Those that discover\nit are rewarded\u2014if freemen, in money; and if slaves, with liberty,\ntogether with a pardon for being accessory to it; that so they might\nfind their account rather in repenting of their engaging in such a\ndesign than in persisting in it.\n\n\u201cThese are their laws and rules in relation to robbery, and it is\nobvious that they are as advantageous as they are mild and gentle;\nsince vice is not only destroyed and men preserved, but they are\ntreated in such a manner as to make them see the necessity of being\nhonest and of employing the rest of their lives in repairing the\ninjuries they had formerly done to society. Nor is there any hazard of\ntheir falling back to their old customs; and so little do travellers\napprehend mischief from them that they generally make use of them for\nguides from one jurisdiction to another; for there is nothing left them\nby which they can rob or be the better for it, since, as they are\ndisarmed, so the very having of money is a sufficient conviction: and\nas they are certainly punished if discovered, so they cannot hope to\nescape; for their habit being in all the parts of it different from\nwhat is commonly worn, they cannot fly away, unless they would go\nnaked, and even then their cropped ear would betray them. The only\ndanger to be feared from them is their conspiring against the\ngovernment; but those of one division and neighbourhood can do nothing\nto any purpose unless a general conspiracy were laid amongst all the\nslaves of the several jurisdictions, which cannot be done, since they\ncannot meet or talk together; nor will any venture on a design where\nthe concealment would be so dangerous and the discovery so profitable.\nNone are quite hopeless of recovering their freedom, since by their\nobedience and patience, and by giving good grounds to believe that they\nwill change their manner of life for the future, they may expect at\nlast to obtain their liberty, and some are every year restored to it\nupon the good character that is given of them. When I had related all\nthis, I added that I did not see why such a method might not be\nfollowed with more advantage than could ever be expected from that\nsevere justice which the Counsellor magnified so much. To this he\nanswered, \u2018That it could never take place in England without\nendangering the whole nation.\u2019 As he said this he shook his head, made\nsome grimaces, and held his peace, while all the company seemed of his\nopinion, except the Cardinal, who said, \u2018That it was not easy to form a\njudgment of its success, since it was a method that never yet had been\ntried; but if,\u2019 said he, \u2018when sentence of death were passed upon a\nthief, the prince would reprieve him for a while, and make the\nexperiment upon him, denying him the privilege of a sanctuary; and\nthen, if it had a good effect upon him, it might take place; and, if it\ndid not succeed, the worst would be to execute the sentence on the\ncondemned persons at last; and I do not see,\u2019 added he, \u2018why it would\nbe either unjust, inconvenient, or at all dangerous to admit of such a\ndelay; in my opinion the vagabonds ought to be treated in the same\nmanner, against whom, though we have made many laws, yet we have not\nbeen able to gain our end.\u2019 When the Cardinal had done, they all\ncommended the motion, though they had despised it when it came from me,\nbut more particularly commended what related to the vagabonds, because\nit was his own observation.\n\n\u201cI do not know whether it be worth while to tell what followed, for it\nwas very ridiculous; but I shall venture at it, for as it is not\nforeign to this matter, so some good use may be made of it. There was a\nJester standing by, that counterfeited the fool so naturally that he\nseemed to be really one; the jests which he offered were so cold and\ndull that we laughed more at him than at them, yet sometimes he said,\nas it were by chance, things that were not unpleasant, so as to justify\nthe old proverb, \u2018That he who throws the dice often, will sometimes\nhave a lucky hit.\u2019 When one of the company had said that I had taken\ncare of the thieves, and the Cardinal had taken care of the vagabonds,\nso that there remained nothing but that some public provision might be\nmade for the poor whom sickness or old age had disabled from labour,\n\u2018Leave that to me,\u2019 said the Fool, \u2018and I shall take care of them, for\nthere is no sort of people whose sight I abhor more, having been so\noften vexed with them and with their sad complaints; but as dolefully\nsoever as they have told their tale, they could never prevail so far as\nto draw one penny from me; for either I had no mind to give them\nanything, or, when I had a mind to do it, I had nothing to give them;\nand they now know me so well that they will not lose their labour, but\nlet me pass without giving me any trouble, because they hope for\nnothing\u2014no more, in faith, than if I were a priest; but I would have a\nlaw made for sending all these beggars to monasteries, the men to the\nBenedictines, to be made lay-brothers, and the women to be nuns.\u2019 The\nCardinal smiled, and approved of it in jest, but the rest liked it in\nearnest. There was a divine present, who, though he was a grave morose\nman, yet he was so pleased with this reflection that was made on the\npriests and the monks that he began to play with the Fool, and said to\nhim, \u2018This will not deliver you from all beggars, except you take care\nof us Friars.\u2019 \u2018That is done already,\u2019 answered the Fool, \u2018for the\nCardinal has provided for you by what he proposed for restraining\nvagabonds and setting them to work, for I know no vagabonds like you.\u2019\nThis was well entertained by the whole company, who, looking at the\nCardinal, perceived that he was not ill-pleased at it; only the Friar\nhimself was vexed, as may be easily imagined, and fell into such a\npassion that he could not forbear railing at the Fool, and calling him\nknave, slanderer, backbiter, and son of perdition, and then cited some\ndreadful threatenings out of the Scriptures against him. Now the Jester\nthought he was in his element, and laid about him freely. \u2018Good Friar,\u2019\nsaid he, \u2018be not angry, for it is written, \u201cIn patience possess your\nsoul.\u201d\u2019 The Friar answered (for I shall give you his own words), \u2018I am\nnot angry, you hangman; at least, I do not sin in it, for the Psalmist\nsays, \u201cBe ye angry and sin not.\u201d\u2019 Upon this the Cardinal admonished him\ngently, and wished him to govern his passions. \u2018No, my lord,\u2019 said he,\n\u2018I speak not but from a good zeal, which I ought to have, for holy men\nhave had a good zeal, as it is said, \u201cThe zeal of thy house hath eaten\nme up;\u201d and we sing in our church that those who mocked Elisha as he\nwent up to the house of God felt the effects of his zeal, which that\nmocker, that rogue, that scoundrel, will perhaps feel.\u2019 \u2018You do this,\nperhaps, with a good intention,\u2019 said the Cardinal, \u2018but, in my\nopinion, it were wiser in you, and perhaps better for you, not to\nengage in so ridiculous a contest with a Fool.\u2019 \u2018No, my lord,\u2019 answered\nhe, \u2018that were not wisely done, for Solomon, the wisest of men, said,\n\u201cAnswer a Fool according to his folly,\u201d which I now do, and show him\nthe ditch into which he will fall, if he is not aware of it; for if the\nmany mockers of Elisha, who was but one bald man, felt the effect of\nhis zeal, what will become of the mocker of so many Friars, among whom\nthere are so many bald men? We have, likewise, a bull, by which all\nthat jeer us are excommunicated.\u2019 When the Cardinal saw that there was\nno end of this matter he made a sign to the Fool to withdraw, turned\nthe discourse another way, and soon after rose from the table, and,\ndismissing us, went to hear causes.\n\n\u201cThus, Mr. More, I have run out into a tedious story, of the length of\nwhich I had been ashamed, if (as you earnestly begged it of me) I had\nnot observed you to hearken to it as if you had no mind to lose any\npart of it. I might have contracted it, but I resolved to give it you\nat large, that you might observe how those that despised what I had\nproposed, no sooner perceived that the Cardinal did not dislike it but\npresently approved of it, fawned so on him and flattered him to such a\ndegree, that they in good earnest applauded those things that he only\nliked in jest; and from hence you may gather how little courtiers would\nvalue either me or my counsels.\u201d\n\nTo this I answered, \u201cYou have done me a great kindness in this\nrelation; for as everything has been related by you both wisely and\npleasantly, so you have made me imagine that I was in my own country\nand grown young again, by recalling that good Cardinal to my thoughts,\nin whose family I was bred from my childhood; and though you are, upon\nother accounts, very dear to me, yet you are the dearer because you\nhonour his memory so much; but, after all this, I cannot change my\nopinion, for I still think that if you could overcome that aversion\nwhich you have to the courts of princes, you might, by the advice which\nit is in your power to give, do a great deal of good to mankind, and\nthis is the chief design that every good man ought to propose to\nhimself in living; for your friend Plato thinks that nations will be\nhappy when either philosophers become kings or kings become\nphilosophers. It is no wonder if we are so far from that happiness\nwhile philosophers will not think it their duty to assist kings with\ntheir counsels.\u201d \u201cThey are not so base-minded,\u201d said he, \u201cbut that they\nwould willingly do it; many of them have already done it by their\nbooks, if those that are in power would but hearken to their good\nadvice. But Plato judged right, that except kings themselves became\nphilosophers, they who from their childhood are corrupted with false\nnotions would never fall in entirely with the counsels of philosophers,\nand this he himself found to be true in the person of Dionysius.\n\n\u201cDo not you think that if I were about any king, proposing good laws to\nhim, and endeavouring to root out all the cursed seeds of evil that I\nfound in him, I should either be turned out of his court, or, at least,\nbe laughed at for my pains? For instance, what could I signify if I\nwere about the King of France, and were called into his cabinet\ncouncil, where several wise men, in his hearing, were proposing many\nexpedients; as, by what arts and practices Milan may be kept, and\nNaples, that has so often slipped out of their hands, recovered; how\nthe Venetians, and after them the rest of Italy, may be subdued; and\nthen how Flanders, Brabant, and all Burgundy, and some other kingdoms\nwhich he has swallowed already in his designs, may be added to his\nempire? One proposes a league with the Venetians, to be kept as long as\nhe finds his account in it, and that he ought to communicate counsels\nwith them, and give them some share of the spoil till his success makes\nhim need or fear them less, and then it will be easily taken out of\ntheir hands; another proposes the hiring the Germans and the securing\nthe Switzers by pensions; another proposes the gaining the Emperor by\nmoney, which is omnipotent with him; another proposes a peace with the\nKing of Arragon, and, in order to cement it, the yielding up the King\nof Navarre\u2019s pretensions; another thinks that the Prince of Castile is\nto be wrought on by the hope of an alliance, and that some of his\ncourtiers are to be gained to the French faction by pensions. The\nhardest point of all is, what to do with England; a treaty of peace is\nto be set on foot, and, if their alliance is not to be depended on, yet\nit is to be made as firm as possible, and they are to be called\nfriends, but suspected as enemies: therefore the Scots are to be kept\nin readiness to be let loose upon England on every occasion; and some\nbanished nobleman is to be supported underhand (for by the League it\ncannot be done avowedly) who has a pretension to the crown, by which\nmeans that suspected prince may be kept in awe. Now when things are in\nso great a fermentation, and so many gallant men are joining counsels\nhow to carry on the war, if so mean a man as I should stand up and wish\nthem to change all their counsels\u2014to let Italy alone and stay at home,\nsince the kingdom of France was indeed greater than could be well\ngoverned by one man; that therefore he ought not to think of adding\nothers to it; and if, after this, I should propose to them the\nresolutions of the Achorians, a people that lie on the south-east of\nUtopia, who long ago engaged in war in order to add to the dominions of\ntheir prince another kingdom, to which he had some pretensions by an\nancient alliance: this they conquered, but found that the trouble of\nkeeping it was equal to that by which it was gained; that the conquered\npeople were always either in rebellion or exposed to foreign invasions,\nwhile they were obliged to be incessantly at war, either for or against\nthem, and consequently could never disband their army; that in the\nmeantime they were oppressed with taxes, their money went out of the\nkingdom, their blood was spilt for the glory of their king without\nprocuring the least advantage to the people, who received not the\nsmallest benefit from it even in time of peace; and that, their manners\nbeing corrupted by a long war, robbery and murders everywhere abounded,\nand their laws fell into contempt; while their king, distracted with\nthe care of two kingdoms, was the less able to apply his mind to the\ninterest of either. When they saw this, and that there would be no end\nto these evils, they by joint counsels made an humble address to their\nking, desiring him to choose which of the two kingdoms he had the\ngreatest mind to keep, since he could not hold both; for they were too\ngreat a people to be governed by a divided king, since no man would\nwillingly have a groom that should be in common between him and\nanother. Upon which the good prince was forced to quit his new kingdom\nto one of his friends (who was not long after dethroned), and to be\ncontented with his old one. To this I would add that after all those\nwarlike attempts, the vast confusions, and the consumption both of\ntreasure and of people that must follow them, perhaps upon some\nmisfortune they might be forced to throw up all at last; therefore it\nseemed much more eligible that the king should improve his ancient\nkingdom all he could, and make it flourish as much as possible; that he\nshould love his people, and be beloved of them; that he should live\namong them, govern them gently and let other kingdoms alone, since that\nwhich had fallen to his share was big enough, if not too big, for\nhim:\u2014pray, how do you think would such a speech as this be heard?\u201d\n\n\u201cI confess,\u201d said I, \u201cI think not very well.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what,\u201d said he, \u201cif I should sort with another kind of ministers,\nwhose chief contrivances and consultations were by what art the\nprince\u2019s treasures might be increased? where one proposes raising the\nvalue of specie when the king\u2019s debts are large, and lowering it when\nhis revenues were to come in, that so he might both pay much with a\nlittle, and in a little receive a great deal. Another proposes a\npretence of a war, that money might be raised in order to carry it on,\nand that a peace be concluded as soon as that was done; and this with\nsuch appearances of religion as might work on the people, and make them\nimpute it to the piety of their prince, and to his tenderness for the\nlives of his subjects. A third offers some old musty laws that have\nbeen antiquated by a long disuse (and which, as they had been forgotten\nby all the subjects, so they had also been broken by them), and\nproposes the levying the penalties of these laws, that, as it would\nbring in a vast treasure, so there might be a very good pretence for\nit, since it would look like the executing a law and the doing of\njustice. A fourth proposes the prohibiting of many things under severe\npenalties, especially such as were against the interest of the people,\nand then the dispensing with these prohibitions, upon great\ncompositions, to those who might find their advantage in breaking them.\nThis would serve two ends, both of them acceptable to many; for as\nthose whose avarice led them to transgress would be severely fined, so\nthe selling licences dear would look as if a prince were tender of his\npeople, and would not easily, or at low rates, dispense with anything\nthat might be against the public good. Another proposes that the judges\nmust be made sure, that they may declare always in favour of the\nprerogative; that they must be often sent for to court, that the king\nmay hear them argue those points in which he is concerned; since, how\nunjust soever any of his pretensions may be, yet still some one or\nother of them, either out of contradiction to others, or the pride of\nsingularity, or to make their court, would find out some pretence or\nother to give the king a fair colour to carry the point. For if the\njudges but differ in opinion, the clearest thing in the world is made\nby that means disputable, and truth being once brought in question, the\nking may then take advantage to expound the law for his own profit;\nwhile the judges that stand out will be brought over, either through\nfear or modesty; and they being thus gained, all of them may be sent to\nthe Bench to give sentence boldly as the king would have it; for fair\npretences will never be wanting when sentence is to be given in the\nprince\u2019s favour. It will either be said that equity lies of his side,\nor some words in the law will be found sounding that way, or some\nforced sense will be put on them; and, when all other things fail, the\nking\u2019s undoubted prerogative will be pretended, as that which is above\nall law, and to which a religious judge ought to have a special regard.\nThus all consent to that maxim of Crassus, that a prince cannot have\ntreasure enough, since he must maintain his armies out of it; that a\nking, even though he would, can do nothing unjustly; that all property\nis in him, not excepting the very persons of his subjects; and that no\nman has any other property but that which the king, out of his\ngoodness, thinks fit to leave him. And they think it is the prince\u2019s\ninterest that there be as little of this left as may be, as if it were\nhis advantage that his people should have neither riches nor liberty,\nsince these things make them less easy and willing to submit to a cruel\nand unjust government. Whereas necessity and poverty blunts them, makes\nthem patient, beats them down, and breaks that height of spirit that\nmight otherwise dispose them to rebel. Now what if, after all these\npropositions were made, I should rise up and assert that such counsels\nwere both unbecoming a king and mischievous to him; and that not only\nhis honour, but his safety, consisted more in his people\u2019s wealth than\nin his own; if I should show that they choose a king for their own\nsake, and not for his; that, by his care and endeavours, they may be\nboth easy and safe; and that, therefore, a prince ought to take more\ncare of his people\u2019s happiness than of his own, as a shepherd is to\ntake more care of his flock than of himself? It is also certain that\nthey are much mistaken that think the poverty of a nation is a means of\nthe public safety. Who quarrel more than beggars? who does more\nearnestly long for a change than he that is uneasy in his present\ncircumstances? and who run to create confusions with so desperate a\nboldness as those who, having nothing to lose, hope to gain by them? If\na king should fall under such contempt or envy that he could not keep\nhis subjects in their duty but by oppression and ill usage, and by\nrendering them poor and miserable, it were certainly better for him to\nquit his kingdom than to retain it by such methods as make him, while\nhe keeps the name of authority, lose the majesty due to it. Nor is it\nso becoming the dignity of a king to reign over beggars as over rich\nand happy subjects. And therefore Fabricius, a man of a noble and\nexalted temper, said \u2018he would rather govern rich men than be rich\nhimself; since for one man to abound in wealth and pleasure when all\nabout him are mourning and groaning, is to be a gaoler and not a king.\u2019\nHe is an unskilful physician that cannot cure one disease without\ncasting his patient into another. So he that can find no other way for\ncorrecting the errors of his people but by taking from them the\nconveniences of life, shows that he knows not what it is to govern a\nfree nation. He himself ought rather to shake off his sloth, or to lay\ndown his pride, for the contempt or hatred that his people have for him\ntakes its rise from the vices in himself. Let him live upon what\nbelongs to him without wronging others, and accommodate his expense to\nhis revenue. Let him punish crimes, and, by his wise conduct, let him\nendeavour to prevent them, rather than be severe when he has suffered\nthem to be too common. Let him not rashly revive laws that are\nabrogated by disuse, especially if they have been long forgotten and\nnever wanted. And let him never take any penalty for the breach of them\nto which a judge would not give way in a private man, but would look on\nhim as a crafty and unjust person for pretending to it. To these things\nI would add that law among the Macarians\u2014a people that live not far\nfrom Utopia\u2014by which their king, on the day on which he began to reign,\nis tied by an oath, confirmed by solemn sacrifices, never to have at\nonce above a thousand pounds of gold in his treasures, or so much\nsilver as is equal to that in value. This law, they tell us, was made\nby an excellent king who had more regard to the riches of his country\nthan to his own wealth, and therefore provided against the heaping up\nof so much treasure as might impoverish the people. He thought that\nmoderate sum might be sufficient for any accident, if either the king\nhad occasion for it against the rebels, or the kingdom against the\ninvasion of an enemy; but that it was not enough to encourage a prince\nto invade other men\u2019s rights\u2014a circumstance that was the chief cause of\nhis making that law. He also thought that it was a good provision for\nthat free circulation of money so necessary for the course of commerce\nand exchange. And when a king must distribute all those extraordinary\naccessions that increase treasure beyond the due pitch, it makes him\nless disposed to oppress his subjects. Such a king as this will be the\nterror of ill men, and will be beloved by all the good.\n\n\u201cIf, I say, I should talk of these or such-like things to men that had\ntaken their bias another way, how deaf would they be to all I could\nsay!\u201d \u201cNo doubt, very deaf,\u201d answered I; \u201cand no wonder, for one is\nnever to offer propositions or advice that we are certain will not be\nentertained. Discourses so much out of the road could not avail\nanything, nor have any effect on men whose minds were prepossessed with\ndifferent sentiments. This philosophical way of speculation is not\nunpleasant among friends in a free conversation; but there is no room\nfor it in the courts of princes, where great affairs are carried on by\nauthority.\u201d \u201cThat is what I was saying,\u201d replied he, \u201cthat there is no\nroom for philosophy in the courts of princes.\u201d \u201cYes, there is,\u201d said I,\n\u201cbut not for this speculative philosophy, that makes everything to be\nalike fitting at all times; but there is another philosophy that is\nmore pliable, that knows its proper scene, accommodates itself to it,\nand teaches a man with propriety and decency to act that part which has\nfallen to his share. If when one of Plautus\u2019 comedies is upon the\nstage, and a company of servants are acting their parts, you should\ncome out in the garb of a philosopher, and repeat, out of _Octavia_, a\ndiscourse of Seneca\u2019s to Nero, would it not be better for you to say\nnothing than by mixing things of such different natures to make an\nimpertinent tragi-comedy? for you spoil and corrupt the play that is in\nhand when you mix with it things of an opposite nature, even though\nthey are much better. Therefore go through with the play that is acting\nthe best you can, and do not confound it because another that is\npleasanter comes into your thoughts. It is even so in a commonwealth\nand in the councils of princes; if ill opinions cannot be quite rooted\nout, and you cannot cure some received vice according to your wishes,\nyou must not, therefore, abandon the commonwealth, for the same reasons\nas you should not forsake the ship in a storm because you cannot\ncommand the winds. You are not obliged to assault people with\ndiscourses that are out of their road, when you see that their received\nnotions must prevent your making an impression upon them: you ought\nrather to cast about and to manage things with all the dexterity in\nyour power, so that, if you are not able to make them go well, they may\nbe as little ill as possible; for, except all men were good, everything\ncannot be right, and that is a blessing that I do not at present hope\nto see.\u201d \u201cAccording to your argument,\u201d answered he, \u201call that I could\nbe able to do would be to preserve myself from being mad while I\nendeavoured to cure the madness of others; for, if I speak truth, I\nmust repeat what I have said to you; and as for lying, whether a\nphilosopher can do it or not I cannot tell: I am sure I cannot do it.\nBut though these discourses may be uneasy and ungrateful to them, I do\nnot see why they should seem foolish or extravagant; indeed, if I\nshould either propose such things as Plato has contrived in his\n\u2018Commonwealth,\u2019 or as the Utopians practise in theirs, though they\nmight seem better, as certainly they are, yet they are so different\nfrom our establishment, which is founded on property (there being no\nsuch thing among them), that I could not expect that it would have any\neffect on them. But such discourses as mine, which only call past evils\nto mind and give warning of what may follow, leave nothing in them that\nis so absurd that they may not be used at any time, for they can only\nbe unpleasant to those who are resolved to run headlong the contrary\nway; and if we must let alone everything as absurd or\nextravagant\u2014which, by reason of the wicked lives of many, may seem\nuncouth\u2014we must, even among Christians, give over pressing the greatest\npart of those things that Christ hath taught us, though He has\ncommanded us not to conceal them, but to proclaim on the housetops that\nwhich He taught in secret. The greatest parts of His precepts are more\nopposite to the lives of the men of this age than any part of my\ndiscourse has been, but the preachers seem to have learned that craft\nto which you advise me: for they, observing that the world would not\nwillingly suit their lives to the rules that Christ has given, have\nfitted His doctrine, as if it had been a leaden rule, to their lives,\nthat so, some way or other, they might agree with one another. But I\nsee no other effect of this compliance except it be that men become\nmore secure in their wickedness by it; and this is all the success that\nI can have in a court, for I must always differ from the rest, and then\nI shall signify nothing; or, if I agree with them, I shall then only\nhelp forward their madness. I do not comprehend what you mean by your\n\u2018casting about,\u2019 or by \u2018the bending and handling things so dexterously\nthat, if they go not well, they may go as little ill as may be;\u2019 for in\ncourts they will not bear with a man\u2019s holding his peace or conniving\nat what others do: a man must barefacedly approve of the worst counsels\nand consent to the blackest designs: so that he would pass for a spy,\nor, possibly, for a traitor, that did but coldly approve of such wicked\npractices; and therefore when a man is engaged in such a society, he\nwill be so far from being able to mend matters by his \u2018casting about,\u2019\nas you call it, that he will find no occasions of doing any good\u2014the\nill company will sooner corrupt him than be the better for him; or if,\nnotwithstanding all their ill company, he still remains steady and\ninnocent, yet their follies and knavery will be imputed to him; and, by\nmixing counsels with them, he must bear his share of all the blame that\nbelongs wholly to others.\n\n\u201cIt was no ill simile by which Plato set forth the unreasonableness of\na philosopher\u2019s meddling with government. \u2018If a man,\u2019 says he, \u2018were to\nsee a great company run out every day into the rain and take delight in\nbeing wet\u2014if he knew that it would be to no purpose for him to go and\npersuade them to return to their houses in order to avoid the storm,\nand that all that could be expected by his going to speak to them would\nbe that he himself should be as wet as they, it would be best for him\nto keep within doors, and, since he had not influence enough to correct\nother people\u2019s folly, to take care to preserve himself.\u2019\n\n\u201cThough, to speak plainly my real sentiments, I must freely own that as\nlong as there is any property, and while money is the standard of all\nother things, I cannot think that a nation can be governed either\njustly or happily: not justly, because the best things will fall to the\nshare of the worst men; nor happily, because all things will be divided\namong a few (and even these are not in all respects happy), the rest\nbeing left to be absolutely miserable. Therefore, when I reflect on the\nwise and good constitution of the Utopians, among whom all things are\nso well governed and with so few laws, where virtue hath its due\nreward, and yet there is such an equality that every man lives in\nplenty\u2014when I compare with them so many other nations that are still\nmaking new laws, and yet can never bring their constitution to a right\nregulation; where, notwithstanding every one has his property, yet all\nthe laws that they can invent have not the power either to obtain or\npreserve it, or even to enable men certainly to distinguish what is\ntheir own from what is another\u2019s, of which the many lawsuits that every\nday break out, and are eternally depending, give too plain a\ndemonstration\u2014when, I say, I balance all these things in my thoughts, I\ngrow more favourable to Plato, and do not wonder that he resolved not\nto make any laws for such as would not submit to a community of all\nthings; for so wise a man could not but foresee that the setting all\nupon a level was the only way to make a nation happy; which cannot be\nobtained so long as there is property, for when every man draws to\nhimself all that he can compass, by one title or another, it must needs\nfollow that, how plentiful soever a nation may be, yet a few dividing\nthe wealth of it among themselves, the rest must fall into indigence.\nSo that there will be two sorts of people among them, who deserve that\ntheir fortunes should be interchanged\u2014the former useless, but wicked\nand ravenous; and the latter, who by their constant industry serve the\npublic more than themselves, sincere and modest men\u2014from whence I am\npersuaded that till property is taken away, there can be no equitable\nor just distribution of things, nor can the world be happily governed;\nfor as long as that is maintained, the greatest and the far best part\nof mankind, will be still oppressed with a load of cares and anxieties.\nI confess, without taking it quite away, those pressures that lie on a\ngreat part of mankind may be made lighter, but they can never be quite\nremoved; for if laws were made to determine at how great an extent in\nsoil, and at how much money, every man must stop\u2014to limit the prince,\nthat he might not grow too great; and to restrain the people, that they\nmight not become too insolent\u2014and that none might factiously aspire to\npublic employments, which ought neither to be sold nor made burdensome\nby a great expense, since otherwise those that serve in them would be\ntempted to reimburse themselves by cheats and violence, and it would\nbecome necessary to find out rich men for undergoing those employments,\nwhich ought rather to be trusted to the wise. These laws, I say, might\nhave such effect as good diet and care might have on a sick man whose\nrecovery is desperate; they might allay and mitigate the disease, but\nit could never be quite healed, nor the body politic be brought again\nto a good habit as long as property remains; and it will fall out, as\nin a complication of diseases, that by applying a remedy to one sore\nyou will provoke another, and that which removes the one ill symptom\nproduces others, while the strengthening one part of the body weakens\nthe rest.\u201d \u201cOn the contrary,\u201d answered I, \u201cit seems to me that men\ncannot live conveniently where all things are common. How can there be\nany plenty where every man will excuse himself from labour? for as the\nhope of gain doth not excite him, so the confidence that he has in\nother men\u2019s industry may make him slothful. If people come to be\npinched with want, and yet cannot dispose of anything as their own,\nwhat can follow upon this but perpetual sedition and bloodshed,\nespecially when the reverence and authority due to magistrates falls to\nthe ground? for I cannot imagine how that can be kept up among those\nthat are in all things equal to one another.\u201d \u201cI do not wonder,\u201d said\nhe, \u201cthat it appears so to you, since you have no notion, or at least\nno right one, of such a constitution; but if you had been in Utopia\nwith me, and had seen their laws and rules, as I did, for the space of\nfive years, in which I lived among them, and during which time I was so\ndelighted with them that indeed I should never have left them if it had\nnot been to make the discovery of that new world to the Europeans, you\nwould then confess that you had never seen a people so well constituted\nas they.\u201d \u201cYou will not easily persuade me,\u201d said Peter, \u201cthat any\nnation in that new world is better governed than those among us; for as\nour understandings are not worse than theirs, so our government (if I\nmistake not) being more ancient, a long practice has helped us to find\nout many conveniences of life, and some happy chances have discovered\nother things to us which no man\u2019s understanding could ever have\ninvented.\u201d \u201cAs for the antiquity either of their government or of\nours,\u201d said he, \u201cyou cannot pass a true judgment of it unless you had\nread their histories; for, if they are to be believed, they had towns\namong them before these parts were so much as inhabited; and as for\nthose discoveries that have been either hit on by chance or made by\ningenious men, these might have happened there as well as here. I do\nnot deny but we are more ingenious than they are, but they exceed us\nmuch in industry and application. They knew little concerning us before\nour arrival among them. They call us all by a general name of \u2018The\nnations that lie beyond the equinoctial line;\u2019 for their chronicle\nmentions a shipwreck that was made on their coast twelve hundred years\nago, and that some Romans and Egyptians that were in the ship, getting\nsafe ashore, spent the rest of their days amongst them; and such was\ntheir ingenuity that from this single opportunity they drew the\nadvantage of learning from those unlooked-for guests, and acquired all\nthe useful arts that were then among the Romans, and which were known\nto these shipwrecked men; and by the hints that they gave them they\nthemselves found out even some of those arts which they could not fully\nexplain, so happily did they improve that accident of having some of\nour people cast upon their shore. But if such an accident has at any\ntime brought any from thence into Europe, we have been so far from\nimproving it that we do not so much as remember it, as, in aftertimes\nperhaps, it will be forgot by our people that I was ever there; for\nthough they, from one such accident, made themselves masters of all the\ngood inventions that were among us, yet I believe it would be long\nbefore we should learn or put in practice any of the good institutions\nthat are among them. And this is the true cause of their being better\ngoverned and living happier than we, though we come not short of them\nin point of understanding or outward advantages.\u201d Upon this I said to\nhim, \u201cI earnestly beg you would describe that island very particularly\nto us; be not too short, but set out in order all things relating to\ntheir soil, their rivers, their towns, their people, their manners,\nconstitution, laws, and, in a word, all that you imagine we desire to\nknow; and you may well imagine that we desire to know everything\nconcerning them of which we are hitherto ignorant.\u201d \u201cI will do it very\nwillingly,\u201d said he, \u201cfor I have digested the whole matter carefully,\nbut it will take up some time.\u201d \u201cLet us go, then,\u201d said I, \u201cfirst and\ndine, and then we shall have leisure enough.\u201d He consented; we went in\nand dined, and after dinner came back and sat down in the same place. I\nordered my servants to take care that none might come and interrupt us,\nand both Peter and I desired Raphael to be as good as his word. When he\nsaw that we were very intent upon it he paused a little to recollect\nhimself, and began in this manner:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe island of Utopia is in the middle two hundred miles broad, and\nholds almost at the same breadth over a great part of it, but it grows\nnarrower towards both ends. Its figure is not unlike a crescent.\nBetween its horns the sea comes in eleven miles broad, and spreads\nitself into a great bay, which is environed with land to the compass of\nabout five hundred miles, and is well secured from winds. In this bay\nthere is no great current; the whole coast is, as it were, one\ncontinued harbour, which gives all that live in the island great\nconvenience for mutual commerce. But the entry into the bay, occasioned\nby rocks on the one hand and shallows on the other, is very dangerous.\nIn the middle of it there is one single rock which appears above water,\nand may, therefore, easily be avoided; and on the top of it there is a\ntower, in which a garrison is kept; the other rocks lie under water,\nand are very dangerous. The channel is known only to the natives; so\nthat if any stranger should enter into the bay without one of their\npilots he would run great danger of shipwreck. For even they themselves\ncould not pass it safe if some marks that are on the coast did not\ndirect their way; and if these should be but a little shifted, any\nfleet that might come against them, how great soever it were, would be\ncertainly lost. On the other side of the island there are likewise many\nharbours; and the coast is so fortified, both by nature and art, that a\nsmall number of men can hinder the descent of a great army. But they\nreport (and there remains good marks of it to make it credible) that\nthis was no island at first, but a part of the continent. Utopus, that\nconquered it (whose name it still carries, for Abraxa was its first\nname), brought the rude and uncivilised inhabitants into such a good\ngovernment, and to that measure of politeness, that they now far excel\nall the rest of mankind. Having soon subdued them, he designed to\nseparate them from the continent, and to bring the sea quite round\nthem. To accomplish this he ordered a deep channel to be dug, fifteen\nmiles long; and that the natives might not think he treated them like\nslaves, he not only forced the inhabitants, but also his own soldiers,\nto labour in carrying it on. As he set a vast number of men to work,\nhe, beyond all men\u2019s expectations, brought it to a speedy conclusion.\nAnd his neighbours, who at first laughed at the folly of the\nundertaking, no sooner saw it brought to perfection than they were\nstruck with admiration and terror.\n\n\u201cThere are fifty-four cities in the island, all large and well built,\nthe manners, customs, and laws of which are the same, and they are all\ncontrived as near in the same manner as the ground on which they stand\nwill allow. The nearest lie at least twenty-four miles\u2019 distance from\none another, and the most remote are not so far distant but that a man\ncan go on foot in one day from it to that which lies next it. Every\ncity sends three of their wisest senators once a year to Amaurot, to\nconsult about their common concerns; for that is the chief town of the\nisland, being situated near the centre of it, so that it is the most\nconvenient place for their assemblies. The jurisdiction of every city\nextends at least twenty miles, and, where the towns lie wider, they\nhave much more ground. No town desires to enlarge its bounds, for the\npeople consider themselves rather as tenants than landlords. They have\nbuilt, over all the country, farmhouses for husbandmen, which are well\ncontrived, and furnished with all things necessary for country labour.\nInhabitants are sent, by turns, from the cities to dwell in them; no\ncountry family has fewer than forty men and women in it, besides two\nslaves. There is a master and a mistress set over every family, and\nover thirty families there is a magistrate. Every year twenty of this\nfamily come back to the town after they have stayed two years in the\ncountry, and in their room there are other twenty sent from the town,\nthat they may learn country work from those that have been already one\nyear in the country, as they must teach those that come to them the\nnext from the town. By this means such as dwell in those country farms\nare never ignorant of agriculture, and so commit no errors which might\notherwise be fatal and bring them under a scarcity of corn. But though\nthere is every year such a shifting of the husbandmen to prevent any\nman being forced against his will to follow that hard course of life\ntoo long, yet many among them take such pleasure in it that they desire\nleave to continue in it many years. These husbandmen till the ground,\nbreed cattle, hew wood, and convey it to the towns either by land or\nwater, as is most convenient. They breed an infinite multitude of\nchickens in a very curious manner; for the hens do not sit and hatch\nthem, but a vast number of eggs are laid in a gentle and equal heat in\norder to be hatched, and they are no sooner out of the shell, and able\nto stir about, but they seem to consider those that feed them as their\nmothers, and follow them as other chickens do the hen that hatched\nthem. They breed very few horses, but those they have are full of\nmettle, and are kept only for exercising their youth in the art of\nsitting and riding them; for they do not put them to any work, either\nof ploughing or carriage, in which they employ oxen. For though their\nhorses are stronger, yet they find oxen can hold out longer; and as\nthey are not subject to so many diseases, so they are kept upon a less\ncharge and with less trouble. And even when they are so worn out that\nthey are no more fit for labour, they are good meat at last. They sow\nno corn but that which is to be their bread; for they drink either\nwine, cider or perry, and often water, sometimes boiled with honey or\nliquorice, with which they abound; and though they know exactly how\nmuch corn will serve every town and all that tract of country which\nbelongs to it, yet they sow much more and breed more cattle than are\nnecessary for their consumption, and they give that overplus of which\nthey make no use to their neighbours. When they want anything in the\ncountry which it does not produce, they fetch that from the town,\nwithout carrying anything in exchange for it. And the magistrates of\nthe town take care to see it given them; for they meet generally in the\ntown once a month, upon a festival day. When the time of harvest comes,\nthe magistrates in the country send to those in the towns and let them\nknow how many hands they will need for reaping the harvest; and the\nnumber they call for being sent to them, they commonly despatch it all\nin one day.\n\n\n\n\nOF THEIR TOWNS, PARTICULARLY OF AMAUROT\n\n\n\u201cHe that knows one of their towns knows them all\u2014they are so like one\nanother, except where the situation makes some difference. I shall\ntherefore describe one of them, and none is so proper as Amaurot; for\nas none is more eminent (all the rest yielding in precedence to this,\nbecause it is the seat of their supreme council), so there was none of\nthem better known to me, I having lived five years all together in it.\n\n\u201cIt lies upon the side of a hill, or, rather, a rising ground. Its\nfigure is almost square, for from the one side of it, which shoots up\nalmost to the top of the hill, it runs down, in a descent for two\nmiles, to the river Anider; but it is a little broader the other way\nthat runs along by the bank of that river. The Anider rises about\neighty miles above Amaurot, in a small spring at first. But other\nbrooks falling into it, of which two are more considerable than the\nrest, as it runs by Amaurot it is grown half a mile broad; but, it\nstill grows larger and larger, till, after sixty miles\u2019 course below\nit, it is lost in the ocean. Between the town and the sea, and for some\nmiles above the town, it ebbs and flows every six hours with a strong\ncurrent. The tide comes up about thirty miles so full that there is\nnothing but salt water in the river, the fresh water being driven back\nwith its force; and above that, for some miles, the water is brackish;\nbut a little higher, as it runs by the town, it is quite fresh; and\nwhen the tide ebbs, it continues fresh all along to the sea. There is a\nbridge cast over the river, not of timber, but of fair stone,\nconsisting of many stately arches; it lies at that part of the town\nwhich is farthest from the sea, so that the ships, without any\nhindrance, lie all along the side of the town. There is, likewise,\nanother river that runs by it, which, though it is not great, yet it\nruns pleasantly, for it rises out of the same hill on which the town\nstands, and so runs down through it and falls into the Anider. The\ninhabitants have fortified the fountain-head of this river, which\nsprings a little without the towns; that so, if they should happen to\nbe besieged, the enemy might not be able to stop or divert the course\nof the water, nor poison it; from thence it is carried, in earthen\npipes, to the lower streets. And for those places of the town to which\nthe water of that small river cannot be conveyed, they have great\ncisterns for receiving the rain-water, which supplies the want of the\nother. The town is compassed with a high and thick wall, in which there\nare many towers and forts; there is also a broad and deep dry ditch,\nset thick with thorns, cast round three sides of the town, and the\nriver is instead of a ditch on the fourth side. The streets are very\nconvenient for all carriage, and are well sheltered from the winds.\nTheir buildings are good, and are so uniform that a whole side of a\nstreet looks like one house. The streets are twenty feet broad; there\nlie gardens behind all their houses. These are large, but enclosed with\nbuildings, that on all hands face the streets, so that every house has\nboth a door to the street and a back door to the garden. Their doors\nhave all two leaves, which, as they are easily opened, so they shut of\ntheir own accord; and, there being no property among them, every man\nmay freely enter into any house whatsoever. At every ten years\u2019 end\nthey shift their houses by lots. They cultivate their gardens with\ngreat care, so that they have both vines, fruits, herbs, and flowers in\nthem; and all is so well ordered and so finely kept that I never saw\ngardens anywhere that were both so fruitful and so beautiful as theirs.\nAnd this humour of ordering their gardens so well is not only kept up\nby the pleasure they find in it, but also by an emulation between the\ninhabitants of the several streets, who vie with each other. And there\nis, indeed, nothing belonging to the whole town that is both more\nuseful and more pleasant. So that he who founded the town seems to have\ntaken care of nothing more than of their gardens; for they say the\nwhole scheme of the town was designed at first by Utopus, but he left\nall that belonged to the ornament and improvement of it to be added by\nthose that should come after him, that being too much for one man to\nbring to perfection. Their records, that contain the history of their\ntown and State, are preserved with an exact care, and run backwards\nseventeen hundred and sixty years. From these it appears that their\nhouses were at first low and mean, like cottages, made of any sort of\ntimber, and were built with mud walls and thatched with straw. But now\ntheir houses are three storeys high, the fronts of them are faced\neither with stone, plastering, or brick, and between the facings of\ntheir walls they throw in their rubbish. Their roofs are flat, and on\nthem they lay a sort of plaster, which costs very little, and yet is so\ntempered that it is not apt to take fire, and yet resists the weather\nmore than lead. They have great quantities of glass among them, with\nwhich they glaze their windows; they use also in their windows a thin\nlinen cloth, that is so oiled or gummed that it both keeps out the wind\nand gives free admission to the light.\n\n\n\n\nOF THEIR MAGISTRATES\n\n\n\u201cThirty families choose every year a magistrate, who was anciently\ncalled the Syphogrant, but is now called the Philarch; and over every\nten Syphogrants, with the families subject to them, there is another\nmagistrate, who was anciently called the Tranibore, but of late the\nArchphilarch. All the Syphogrants, who are in number two hundred,\nchoose the Prince out of a list of four who are named by the people of\nthe four divisions of the city; but they take an oath, before they\nproceed to an election, that they will choose him whom they think most\nfit for the office: they give him their voices secretly, so that it is\nnot known for whom every one gives his suffrage. The Prince is for\nlife, unless he is removed upon suspicion of some design to enslave the\npeople. The Tranibors are new chosen every year, but yet they are, for\nthe most part, continued; all their other magistrates are only annual.\nThe Tranibors meet every third day, and oftener if necessary, and\nconsult with the Prince either concerning the affairs of the State in\ngeneral, or such private differences as may arise sometimes among the\npeople, though that falls out but seldom. There are always two\nSyphogrants called into the council chamber, and these are changed\nevery day. It is a fundamental rule of their government, that no\nconclusion can be made in anything that relates to the public till it\nhas been first debated three several days in their council. It is death\nfor any to meet and consult concerning the State, unless it be either\nin their ordinary council, or in the assembly of the whole body of the\npeople.\n\n\u201cThese things have been so provided among them that the Prince and the\nTranibors may not conspire together to change the government and\nenslave the people; and therefore when anything of great importance is\nset on foot, it is sent to the Syphogrants, who, after they have\ncommunicated it to the families that belong to their divisions, and\nhave considered it among themselves, make report to the senate; and,\nupon great occasions, the matter is referred to the council of the\nwhole island. One rule observed in their council is, never to debate a\nthing on the same day in which it is first proposed; for that is always\nreferred to the next meeting, that so men may not rashly and in the\nheat of discourse engage themselves too soon, which might bias them so\nmuch that, instead of consulting the good of the public, they might\nrather study to support their first opinions, and by a perverse and\npreposterous sort of shame hazard their country rather than endanger\ntheir own reputation, or venture the being suspected to have wanted\nforesight in the expedients that they at first proposed; and therefore,\nto prevent this, they take care that they may rather be deliberate than\nsudden in their motions.\n\n\n\n\nOF THEIR TRADES, AND MANNER OF LIFE\n\n\n\u201cAgriculture is that which is so universally understood among them that\nno person, either man or woman, is ignorant of it; they are instructed\nin it from their childhood, partly by what they learn at school, and\npartly by practice, they being led out often into the fields about the\ntown, where they not only see others at work but are likewise exercised\nin it themselves. Besides agriculture, which is so common to them all,\nevery man has some peculiar trade to which he applies himself; such as\nthe manufacture of wool or flax, masonry, smith\u2019s work, or carpenter\u2019s\nwork; for there is no sort of trade that is in great esteem among them.\nThroughout the island they wear the same sort of clothes, without any\nother distinction except what is necessary to distinguish the two sexes\nand the married and unmarried. The fashion never alters, and as it is\nneither disagreeable nor uneasy, so it is suited to the climate, and\ncalculated both for their summers and winters. Every family makes their\nown clothes; but all among them, women as well as men, learn one or\nother of the trades formerly mentioned. Women, for the most part, deal\nin wool and flax, which suit best with their weakness, leaving the\nruder trades to the men. The same trade generally passes down from\nfather to son, inclinations often following descent: but if any man\u2019s\ngenius lies another way he is, by adoption, translated into a family\nthat deals in the trade to which he is inclined; and when that is to be\ndone, care is taken, not only by his father, but by the magistrate,\nthat he may be put to a discreet and good man: and if, after a person\nhas learned one trade, he desires to acquire another, that is also\nallowed, and is managed in the same manner as the former. When he has\nlearned both, he follows that which he likes best, unless the public\nhas more occasion for the other.\n\nThe chief, and almost the only, business of the Syphogrants is to take\ncare that no man may live idle, but that every one may follow his trade\ndiligently; yet they do not wear themselves out with perpetual toil\nfrom morning to night, as if they were beasts of burden, which as it is\nindeed a heavy slavery, so it is everywhere the common course of life\namongst all mechanics except the Utopians: but they, dividing the day\nand night into twenty-four hours, appoint six of these for work, three\nof which are before dinner and three after; they then sup, and at eight\no\u2019clock, counting from noon, go to bed and sleep eight hours: the rest\nof their time, besides that taken up in work, eating, and sleeping, is\nleft to every man\u2019s discretion; yet they are not to abuse that interval\nto luxury and idleness, but must employ it in some proper exercise,\naccording to their various inclinations, which is, for the most part,\nreading. It is ordinary to have public lectures every morning before\ndaybreak, at which none are obliged to appear but those who are marked\nout for literature; yet a great many, both men and women, of all ranks,\ngo to hear lectures of one sort or other, according to their\ninclinations: but if others that are not made for contemplation, choose\nrather to employ themselves at that time in their trades, as many of\nthem do, they are not hindered, but are rather commended, as men that\ntake care to serve their country. After supper they spend an hour in\nsome diversion, in summer in their gardens, and in winter in the halls\nwhere they eat, where they entertain each other either with music or\ndiscourse. They do not so much as know dice, or any such foolish and\nmischievous games. They have, however, two sorts of games not unlike\nour chess; the one is between several numbers, in which one number, as\nit were, consumes another; the other resembles a battle between the\nvirtues and the vices, in which the enmity in the vices among\nthemselves, and their agreement against virtue, is not unpleasantly\nrepresented; together with the special opposition between the\nparticular virtues and vices; as also the methods by which vice either\nopenly assaults or secretly undermines virtue; and virtue, on the other\nhand, resists it. But the time appointed for labour is to be narrowly\nexamined, otherwise you may imagine that since there are only six hours\nappointed for work, they may fall under a scarcity of necessary\nprovisions: but it is so far from being true that this time is not\nsufficient for supplying them with plenty of all things, either\nnecessary or convenient, that it is rather too much; and this you will\neasily apprehend if you consider how great a part of all other nations\nis quite idle. First, women generally do little, who are the half of\nmankind; and if some few women are diligent, their husbands are idle:\nthen consider the great company of idle priests, and of those that are\ncalled religious men; add to these all rich men, chiefly those that\nhave estates in land, who are called noblemen and gentlemen, together\nwith their families, made up of idle persons, that are kept more for\nshow than use; add to these all those strong and lusty beggars that go\nabout pretending some disease in excuse for their begging; and upon the\nwhole account you will find that the number of those by whose labours\nmankind is supplied is much less than you perhaps imagined: then\nconsider how few of those that work are employed in labours that are of\nreal service, for we, who measure all things by money, give rise to\nmany trades that are both vain and superfluous, and serve only to\nsupport riot and luxury: for if those who work were employed only in\nsuch things as the conveniences of life require, there would be such an\nabundance of them that the prices of them would so sink that tradesmen\ncould not be maintained by their gains; if all those who labour about\nuseless things were set to more profitable employments, and if all they\nthat languish out their lives in sloth and idleness (every one of whom\nconsumes as much as any two of the men that are at work) were forced to\nlabour, you may easily imagine that a small proportion of time would\nserve for doing all that is either necessary, profitable, or pleasant\nto mankind, especially while pleasure is kept within its due bounds:\nthis appears very plainly in Utopia; for there, in a great city, and in\nall the territory that lies round it, you can scarce find five hundred,\neither men or women, by their age and strength capable of labour, that\nare not engaged in it. Even the Syphogrants, though excused by the law,\nyet do not excuse themselves, but work, that by their examples they may\nexcite the industry of the rest of the people; the like exemption is\nallowed to those who, being recommended to the people by the priests,\nare, by the secret suffrages of the Syphogrants, privileged from\nlabour, that they may apply themselves wholly to study; and if any of\nthese fall short of those hopes that they seemed at first to give, they\nare obliged to return to work; and sometimes a mechanic that so employs\nhis leisure hours as to make a considerable advancement in learning is\neased from being a tradesman and ranked among their learned men. Out of\nthese they choose their ambassadors, their priests, their Tranibors,\nand the Prince himself, anciently called their Barzenes, but is called\nof late their Ademus.\n\n\u201cAnd thus from the great numbers among them that are neither suffered\nto be idle nor to be employed in any fruitless labour, you may easily\nmake the estimate how much may be done in those few hours in which they\nare obliged to labour. But, besides all that has been already said, it\nis to be considered that the needful arts among them are managed with\nless labour than anywhere else. The building or the repairing of houses\namong us employ many hands, because often a thriftless heir suffers a\nhouse that his father built to fall into decay, so that his successor\nmust, at a great cost, repair that which he might have kept up with a\nsmall charge; it frequently happens that the same house which one\nperson built at a vast expense is neglected by another, who thinks he\nhas a more delicate sense of the beauties of architecture, and he,\nsuffering it to fall to ruin, builds another at no less charge. But\namong the Utopians all things are so regulated that men very seldom\nbuild upon a new piece of ground, and are not only very quick in\nrepairing their houses, but show their foresight in preventing their\ndecay, so that their buildings are preserved very long with but very\nlittle labour, and thus the builders, to whom that care belongs, are\noften without employment, except the hewing of timber and the squaring\nof stones, that the materials may be in readiness for raising a\nbuilding very suddenly when there is any occasion for it. As to their\nclothes, observe how little work is spent in them; while they are at\nlabour they are clothed with leather and skins, cut carelessly about\nthem, which will last seven years, and when they appear in public they\nput on an upper garment which hides the other; and these are all of one\ncolour, and that is the natural colour of the wool. As they need less\nwoollen cloth than is used anywhere else, so that which they make use\nof is much less costly; they use linen cloth more, but that is prepared\nwith less labour, and they value cloth only by the whiteness of the\nlinen or the cleanness of the wool, without much regard to the fineness\nof the thread. While in other places four or five upper garments of\nwoollen cloth of different colours, and as many vests of silk, will\nscarce serve one man, and while those that are nicer think ten too few,\nevery man there is content with one, which very often serves him two\nyears; nor is there anything that can tempt a man to desire more, for\nif he had them he would neither be the, warmer nor would he make one\njot the better appearance for it. And thus, since they are all employed\nin some useful labour, and since they content themselves with fewer\nthings, it falls out that there is a great abundance of all things\namong them; so that it frequently happens that, for want of other work,\nvast numbers are sent out to mend the highways; but when no public\nundertaking is to be performed, the hours of working are lessened. The\nmagistrates never engage the people in unnecessary labour, since the\nchief end of the constitution is to regulate labour by the necessities\nof the public, and to allow the people as much time as is necessary for\nthe improvement of their minds, in which they think the happiness of\nlife consists.\n\n\n\n\nOF THEIR TRAFFIC\n\n\n\u201cBut it is now time to explain to you the mutual intercourse of this\npeople, their commerce, and the rules by which all things are\ndistributed among them.\n\n\u201cAs their cities are composed of families, so their families are made\nup of those that are nearly related to one another. Their women, when\nthey grow up, are married out, but all the males, both children and\ngrand-children, live still in the same house, in great obedience to\ntheir common parent, unless age has weakened his understanding, and in\nthat case he that is next to him in age comes in his room; but lest any\ncity should become either too great, or by any accident be dispeopled,\nprovision is made that none of their cities may contain above six\nthousand families, besides those of the country around it. No family\nmay have less than ten and more than sixteen persons in it, but there\ncan be no determined number for the children under age; this rule is\neasily observed by removing some of the children of a more fruitful\ncouple to any other family that does not abound so much in them. By the\nsame rule they supply cities that do not increase so fast from others\nthat breed faster; and if there is any increase over the whole island,\nthen they draw out a number of their citizens out of the several towns\nand send them over to the neighbouring continent, where, if they find\nthat the inhabitants have more soil than they can well cultivate, they\nfix a colony, taking the inhabitants into their society if they are\nwilling to live with them; and where they do that of their own accord,\nthey quickly enter into their method of life and conform to their\nrules, and this proves a happiness to both nations; for, according to\ntheir constitution, such care is taken of the soil that it becomes\nfruitful enough for both, though it might be otherwise too narrow and\nbarren for any one of them. But if the natives refuse to conform\nthemselves to their laws they drive them out of those bounds which they\nmark out for themselves, and use force if they resist, for they account\nit a very just cause of war for a nation to hinder others from\npossessing a part of that soil of which they make no use, but which is\nsuffered to lie idle and uncultivated, since every man has, by the law\nof nature, a right to such a waste portion of the earth as is necessary\nfor his subsistence. If an accident has so lessened the number of the\ninhabitants of any of their towns that it cannot be made up from the\nother towns of the island without diminishing them too much (which is\nsaid to have fallen out but twice since they were first a people, when\ngreat numbers were carried off by the plague), the loss is then\nsupplied by recalling as many as are wanted from their colonies, for\nthey will abandon these rather than suffer the towns in the island to\nsink too low.\n\n\u201cBut to return to their manner of living in society: the oldest man of\nevery family, as has been already said, is its governor; wives serve\ntheir husbands, and children their parents, and always the younger\nserves the elder. Every city is divided into four equal parts, and in\nthe middle of each there is a market-place. What is brought thither,\nand manufactured by the several families, is carried from thence to\nhouses appointed for that purpose, in which all things of a sort are\nlaid by themselves; and thither every father goes, and takes whatsoever\nhe or his family stand in need of, without either paying for it or\nleaving anything in exchange. There is no reason for giving a denial to\nany person, since there is such plenty of everything among them; and\nthere is no danger of a man\u2019s asking for more than he needs; they have\nno inducements to do this, since they are sure they shall always be\nsupplied: it is the fear of want that makes any of the whole race of\nanimals either greedy or ravenous; but, besides fear, there is in man a\npride that makes him fancy it a particular glory to excel others in\npomp and excess; but by the laws of the Utopians, there is no room for\nthis. Near these markets there are others for all sorts of provisions,\nwhere there are not only herbs, fruits, and bread, but also fish, fowl,\nand cattle. There are also, without their towns, places appointed near\nsome running water for killing their beasts and for washing away their\nfilth, which is done by their slaves; for they suffer none of their\ncitizens to kill their cattle, because they think that pity and\ngood-nature, which are among the best of those affections that are born\nwith us, are much impaired by the butchering of animals; nor do they\nsuffer anything that is foul or unclean to be brought within their\ntowns, lest the air should be infected by ill-smells, which might\nprejudice their health. In every street there are great halls, that lie\nat an equal distance from each other, distinguished by particular\nnames. The Syphogrants dwell in those that are set over thirty\nfamilies, fifteen lying on one side of it, and as many on the other. In\nthese halls they all meet and have their repasts; the stewards of every\none of them come to the market-place at an appointed hour, and\naccording to the number of those that belong to the hall they carry\nhome provisions. But they take more care of their sick than of any\nothers; these are lodged and provided for in public hospitals. They\nhave belonging to every town four hospitals, that are built without\ntheir walls, and are so large that they may pass for little towns; by\nthis means, if they had ever such a number of sick persons, they could\nlodge them conveniently, and at such a distance that such of them as\nare sick of infectious diseases may be kept so far from the rest that\nthere can be no danger of contagion. The hospitals are furnished and\nstored with all things that are convenient for the ease and recovery of\nthe sick; and those that are put in them are looked after with such\ntender and watchful care, and are so constantly attended by their\nskilful physicians, that as none is sent to them against their will, so\nthere is scarce one in a whole town that, if he should fall ill, would\nnot choose rather to go thither than lie sick at home.\n\n\u201cAfter the steward of the hospitals has taken for the sick whatsoever\nthe physician prescribes, then the best things that are left in the\nmarket are distributed equally among the halls in proportion to their\nnumbers; only, in the first place, they serve the Prince, the Chief\nPriest, the Tranibors, the Ambassadors, and strangers, if there are\nany, which, indeed, falls out but seldom, and for whom there are\nhouses, well furnished, particularly appointed for their reception when\nthey come among them. At the hours of dinner and supper the whole\nSyphogranty being called together by sound of trumpet, they meet and\neat together, except only such as are in the hospitals or lie sick at\nhome. Yet, after the halls are served, no man is hindered to carry\nprovisions home from the market-place, for they know that none does\nthat but for some good reason; for though any that will may eat at\nhome, yet none does it willingly, since it is both ridiculous and\nfoolish for any to give themselves the trouble to make ready an ill\ndinner at home when there is a much more plentiful one made ready for\nhim so near hand. All the uneasy and sordid services about these halls\nare performed by their slaves; but the dressing and cooking their meat,\nand the ordering their tables, belong only to the women, all those of\nevery family taking it by turns. They sit at three or more tables,\naccording to their number; the men sit towards the wall, and the women\nsit on the other side, that if any of them should be taken suddenly\nill, which is no uncommon case amongst women with child, she may,\nwithout disturbing the rest, rise and go to the nurses\u2019 room (who are\nthere with the sucking children), where there is always clean water at\nhand and cradles, in which they may lay the young children if there is\noccasion for it, and a fire, that they may shift and dress them before\nit. Every child is nursed by its own mother if death or sickness does\nnot intervene; and in that case the Syphogrants\u2019 wives find out a nurse\nquickly, which is no hard matter, for any one that can do it offers\nherself cheerfully; for as they are much inclined to that piece of\nmercy, so the child whom they nurse considers the nurse as its mother.\nAll the children under five years old sit among the nurses; the rest of\nthe younger sort of both sexes, till they are fit for marriage, either\nserve those that sit at table, or, if they are not strong enough for\nthat, stand by them in great silence and eat what is given them; nor\nhave they any other formality of dining. In the middle of the first\ntable, which stands across the upper end of the hall, sit the\nSyphogrant and his wife, for that is the chief and most conspicuous\nplace; next to him sit two of the most ancient, for there go always\nfour to a mess. If there is a temple within the Syphogranty, the Priest\nand his wife sit with the Syphogrant above all the rest; next them\nthere is a mixture of old and young, who are so placed that as the\nyoung are set near others, so they are mixed with the more ancient;\nwhich, they say, was appointed on this account: that the gravity of the\nold people, and the reverence that is due to them, might restrain the\nyounger from all indecent words and gestures. Dishes are not served up\nto the whole table at first, but the best are first set before the old,\nwhose seats are distinguished from the young, and, after them, all the\nrest are served alike. The old men distribute to the younger any\ncurious meats that happen to be set before them, if there is not such\nan abundance of them that the whole company may be served alike.\n\n\u201cThus old men are honoured with a particular respect, yet all the rest\nfare as well as they. Both dinner and supper are begun with some\nlecture of morality that is read to them; but it is so short that it is\nnot tedious nor uneasy to them to hear it. From hence the old men take\noccasion to entertain those about them with some useful and pleasant\nenlargements; but they do not engross the whole discourse so to\nthemselves during their meals that the younger may not put in for a\nshare; on the contrary, they engage them to talk, that so they may, in\nthat free way of conversation, find out the force of every one\u2019s spirit\nand observe his temper. They despatch their dinners quickly, but sit\nlong at supper, because they go to work after the one, and are to sleep\nafter the other, during which they think the stomach carries on the\nconcoction more vigorously. They never sup without music, and there is\nalways fruit served up after meat; while they are at table some burn\nperfumes and sprinkle about fragrant ointments and sweet waters\u2014in\nshort, they want nothing that may cheer up their spirits; they give\nthemselves a large allowance that way, and indulge themselves in all\nsuch pleasures as are attended with no inconvenience. Thus do those\nthat are in the towns live together; but in the country, where they\nlive at a great distance, every one eats at home, and no family wants\nany necessary sort of provision, for it is from them that provisions\nare sent unto those that live in the towns.\n\n\n\n\nOF THE TRAVELLING OF THE UTOPIANS\n\n\nIf any man has a mind to visit his friends that live in some other\ntown, or desires to travel and see the rest of the country, he obtains\nleave very easily from the Syphogrant and Tranibors, when there is no\nparticular occasion for him at home. Such as travel carry with them a\npassport from the Prince, which both certifies the licence that is\ngranted for travelling, and limits the time of their return. They are\nfurnished with a waggon and a slave, who drives the oxen and looks\nafter them; but, unless there are women in the company, the waggon is\nsent back at the end of the journey as a needless encumbrance. While\nthey are on the road they carry no provisions with them, yet they want\nfor nothing, but are everywhere treated as if they were at home. If\nthey stay in any place longer than a night, every one follows his\nproper occupation, and is very well used by those of his own trade; but\nif any man goes out of the city to which he belongs without leave, and\nis found rambling without a passport, he is severely treated, he is\npunished as a fugitive, and sent home disgracefully; and, if he falls\nagain into the like fault, is condemned to slavery. If any man has a\nmind to travel only over the precinct of his own city, he may freely do\nit, with his father\u2019s permission and his wife\u2019s consent; but when he\ncomes into any of the country houses, if he expects to be entertained\nby them, he must labour with them and conform to their rules; and if he\ndoes this, he may freely go over the whole precinct, being then as\nuseful to the city to which he belongs as if he were still within it.\nThus you see that there are no idle persons among them, nor pretences\nof excusing any from labour. There are no taverns, no ale-houses, nor\nstews among them, nor any other occasions of corrupting each other, of\ngetting into corners, or forming themselves into parties; all men live\nin full view, so that all are obliged both to perform their ordinary\ntask and to employ themselves well in their spare hours; and it is\ncertain that a people thus ordered must live in great abundance of all\nthings, and these being equally distributed among them, no man can want\nor be obliged to beg.\n\n\u201cIn their great council at Amaurot, to which there are three sent from\nevery town once a year, they examine what towns abound in provisions\nand what are under any scarcity, that so the one may be furnished from\nthe other; and this is done freely, without any sort of exchange; for,\naccording to their plenty or scarcity, they supply or are supplied from\none another, so that indeed the whole island is, as it were, one\nfamily. When they have thus taken care of their whole country, and laid\nup stores for two years (which they do to prevent the ill consequences\nof an unfavourable season), they order an exportation of the overplus,\nboth of corn, honey, wool, flax, wood, wax, tallow, leather, and\ncattle, which they send out, commonly in great quantities, to other\nnations. They order a seventh part of all these goods to be freely\ngiven to the poor of the countries to which they send them, and sell\nthe rest at moderate rates; and by this exchange they not only bring\nback those few things that they need at home (for, indeed, they scarce\nneed anything but iron), but likewise a great deal of gold and silver;\nand by their driving this trade so long, it is not to be imagined how\nvast a treasure they have got among them, so that now they do not much\ncare whether they sell off their merchandise for money in hand or upon\ntrust. A great part of their treasure is now in bonds; but in all their\ncontracts no private man stands bound, but the writing runs in the name\nof the town; and the towns that owe them money raise it from those\nprivate hands that owe it to them, lay it up in their public chamber,\nor enjoy the profit of it till the Utopians call for it; and they\nchoose rather to let the greatest part of it lie in their hands, who\nmake advantage by it, than to call for it themselves; but if they see\nthat any of their other neighbours stand more in need of it, then they\ncall it in and lend it to them. Whenever they are engaged in war, which\nis the only occasion in which their treasure can be usefully employed,\nthey make use of it themselves; in great extremities or sudden\naccidents they employ it in hiring foreign troops, whom they more\nwillingly expose to danger than their own people; they give them great\npay, knowing well that this will work even on their enemies; that it\nwill engage them either to betray their own side, or, at least, to\ndesert it; and that it is the best means of raising mutual jealousies\namong them. For this end they have an incredible treasure; but they do\nnot keep it as a treasure, but in such a manner as I am almost afraid\nto tell, lest you think it so extravagant as to be hardly credible.\nThis I have the more reason to apprehend because, if I had not seen it\nmyself, I could not have been easily persuaded to have believed it upon\nany man\u2019s report.\n\n\u201cIt is certain that all things appear incredible to us in proportion as\nthey differ from known customs; but one who can judge aright will not\nwonder to find that, since their constitution differs so much from\nours, their value of gold and silver should be measured by a very\ndifferent standard; for since they have no use for money among\nthemselves, but keep it as a provision against events which seldom\nhappen, and between which there are generally long intervening\nintervals, they value it no farther than it deserves\u2014that is, in\nproportion to its use. So that it is plain they must prefer iron either\nto gold or silver, for men can no more live without iron than without\nfire or water; but Nature has marked out no use for the other metals so\nessential as not easily to be dispensed with. The folly of men has\nenhanced the value of gold and silver because of their scarcity;\nwhereas, on the contrary, it is their opinion that Nature, as an\nindulgent parent, has freely given us all the best things in great\nabundance, such as water and earth, but has laid up and hid from us the\nthings that are vain and useless.\n\n\u201cIf these metals were laid up in any tower in the kingdom it would\nraise a jealousy of the Prince and Senate, and give birth to that\nfoolish mistrust into which the people are apt to fall\u2014a jealousy of\ntheir intending to sacrifice the interest of the public to their own\nprivate advantage. If they should work it into vessels, or any sort of\nplate, they fear that the people might grow too fond of it, and so be\nunwilling to let the plate be run down, if a war made it necessary, to\nemploy it in paying their soldiers. To prevent all these inconveniences\nthey have fallen upon an expedient which, as it agrees with their other\npolicy, so is it very different from ours, and will scarce gain belief\namong us who value gold so much, and lay it up so carefully. They eat\nand drink out of vessels of earth or glass, which make an agreeable\nappearance, though formed of brittle materials; while they make their\nchamber-pots and close-stools of gold and silver, and that not only in\ntheir public halls but in their private houses. Of the same metals they\nlikewise make chains and fetters for their slaves, to some of which, as\na badge of infamy, they hang an earring of gold, and make others wear a\nchain or a coronet of the same metal; and thus they take care by all\npossible means to render gold and silver of no esteem; and from hence\nit is that while other nations part with their gold and silver as\nunwillingly as if one tore out their bowels, those of Utopia would look\non their giving in all they possess of those metals (when there were\nany use for them) but as the parting with a trifle, or as we would\nesteem the loss of a penny! They find pearls on their coasts, and\ndiamonds and carbuncles on their rocks; they do not look after them,\nbut, if they find them by chance, they polish them, and with them they\nadorn their children, who are delighted with them, and glory in them\nduring their childhood; but when they grow to years, and see that none\nbut children use such baubles, they of their own accord, without being\nbid by their parents, lay them aside, and would be as much ashamed to\nuse them afterwards as children among us, when they come to years, are\nof their puppets and other toys.\n\n\u201cI never saw a clearer instance of the opposite impressions that\ndifferent customs make on people than I observed in the ambassadors of\nthe Anemolians, who came to Amaurot when I was there. As they came to\ntreat of affairs of great consequence, the deputies from several towns\nmet together to wait for their coming. The ambassadors of the nations\nthat lie near Utopia, knowing their customs, and that fine clothes are\nin no esteem among them, that silk is despised, and gold is a badge of\ninfamy, used to come very modestly clothed; but the Anemolians, lying\nmore remote, and having had little commerce with them, understanding\nthat they were coarsely clothed, and all in the same manner, took it\nfor granted that they had none of those fine things among them of which\nthey made no use; and they, being a vainglorious rather than a wise\npeople, resolved to set themselves out with so much pomp that they\nshould look like gods, and strike the eyes of the poor Utopians with\ntheir splendour. Thus three ambassadors made their entry with a hundred\nattendants, all clad in garments of different colours, and the greater\npart in silk; the ambassadors themselves, who were of the nobility of\ntheir country, were in cloth-of-gold, and adorned with massy chains,\nearrings and rings of gold; their caps were covered with bracelets set\nfull of pearls and other gems\u2014in a word, they were set out with all\nthose things that among the Utopians were either the badges of slavery,\nthe marks of infamy, or the playthings of children. It was not\nunpleasant to see, on the one side, how they looked big, when they\ncompared their rich habits with the plain clothes of the Utopians, who\nwere come out in great numbers to see them make their entry; and, on\nthe other, to observe how much they were mistaken in the impression\nwhich they hoped this pomp would have made on them. It appeared so\nridiculous a show to all that had never stirred out of their country,\nand had not seen the customs of other nations, that though they paid\nsome reverence to those that were the most meanly clad, as if they had\nbeen the ambassadors, yet when they saw the ambassadors themselves so\nfull of gold and chains, they looked upon them as slaves, and forbore\nto treat them with reverence. You might have seen the children who were\ngrown big enough to despise their playthings, and who had thrown away\ntheir jewels, call to their mothers, push them gently, and cry out,\n\u2018See that great fool, that wears pearls and gems as if he were yet a\nchild!\u2019 while their mothers very innocently replied, \u2018Hold your peace!\nthis, I believe, is one of the ambassadors\u2019 fools.\u2019 Others censured the\nfashion of their chains, and observed, \u2018That they were of no use, for\nthey were too slight to bind their slaves, who could easily break them;\nand, besides, hung so loose about them that they thought it easy to\nthrow their away, and so get from them.\u201d But after the ambassadors had\nstayed a day among them, and saw so vast a quantity of gold in their\nhouses (which was as much despised by them as it was esteemed in other\nnations), and beheld more gold and silver in the chains and fetters of\none slave than all their ornaments amounted to, their plumes fell, and\nthey were ashamed of all that glory for which they had formed valued\nthemselves, and accordingly laid it aside\u2014a resolution that they\nimmediately took when, on their engaging in some free discourse with\nthe Utopians, they discovered their sense of such things and their\nother customs. The Utopians wonder how any man should be so much taken\nwith the glaring doubtful lustre of a jewel or a stone, that can look\nup to a star or to the sun himself; or how any should value himself\nbecause his cloth is made of a finer thread; for, how fine soever that\nthread may be, it was once no better than the fleece of a sheep, and\nthat sheep, was a sheep still, for all its wearing it. They wonder much\nto hear that gold, which in itself is so useless a thing, should be\neverywhere so much esteemed that even man, for whom it was made, and by\nwhom it has its value, should yet be thought of less value than this\nmetal; that a man of lead, who has no more sense than a log of wood,\nand is as bad as he is foolish, should have many wise and good men to\nserve him, only because he has a great heap of that metal; and that if\nit should happen that by some accident or trick of law (which,\nsometimes produces as great changes as chance itself) all this wealth\nshould pass from the master to the meanest varlet of his whole family,\nhe himself would very soon become one of his servants, as if he were a\nthing that belonged to his wealth, and so were bound to follow its\nfortune! But they much more admire and detest the folly of those who,\nwhen they see a rich man, though they neither owe him anything, nor are\nin any sort dependent on his bounty, yet, merely because he is rich,\ngive him little less than divine honours, even though they know him to\nbe so covetous and base-minded that, notwithstanding all his wealth, he\nwill not part with one farthing of it to them as long as he lives!\n\n\u201cThese and such like notions have that people imbibed, partly from\ntheir education, being bred in a country whose customs and laws are\nopposite to all such foolish maxims, and partly from their learning and\nstudies\u2014for though there are but few in any town that are so wholly\nexcused from labour as to give themselves entirely up to their studies\n(these being only such persons as discover from their childhood an\nextraordinary capacity and disposition for letters), yet their children\nand a great part of the nation, both men and women, are taught to spend\nthose hours in which they are not obliged to work in reading; and this\nthey do through the whole progress of life. They have all their\nlearning in their own tongue, which is both a copious and pleasant\nlanguage, and in which a man can fully express his mind; it runs over a\ngreat tract of many countries, but it is not equally pure in all\nplaces. They had never so much as heard of the names of any of those\nphilosophers that are so famous in these parts of the world, before we\nwent among them; and yet they had made the same discoveries as the\nGreeks, both in music, logic, arithmetic, and geometry. But as they are\nalmost in everything equal to the ancient philosophers, so they far\nexceed our modern logicians for they have never yet fallen upon the\nbarbarous niceties that our youth are forced to learn in those trifling\nlogical schools that are among us. They are so far from minding\nchimeras and fantastical images made in the mind that none of them\ncould comprehend what we meant when we talked to them of a man in the\nabstract as common to all men in particular (so that though we spoke of\nhim as a thing that we could point at with our fingers, yet none of\nthem could perceive him) and yet distinct from every one, as if he were\nsome monstrous Colossus or giant; yet, for all this ignorance of these\nempty notions, they knew astronomy, and were perfectly acquainted with\nthe motions of the heavenly bodies; and have many instruments, well\ncontrived and divided, by which they very accurately compute the course\nand positions of the sun, moon, and stars. But for the cheat of\ndivining by the stars, by their oppositions or conjunctions, it has not\nso much as entered into their thoughts. They have a particular\nsagacity, founded upon much observation, in judging of the weather, by\nwhich they know when they may look for rain, wind, or other alterations\nin the air; but as to the philosophy of these things, the cause of the\nsaltness of the sea, of its ebbing and flowing, and of the original and\nnature both of the heavens and the earth, they dispute of them partly\nas our ancient philosophers have done, and partly upon some new\nhypothesis, in which, as they differ from them, so they do not in all\nthings agree among themselves.\n\n\u201cAs to moral philosophy, they have the same disputes among them as we\nhave here. They examine what are properly good, both for the body and\nthe mind; and whether any outward thing can be called truly _good_, or\nif that term belong only to the endowments of the soul. They inquire,\nlikewise, into the nature of virtue and pleasure. But their chief\ndispute is concerning the happiness of a man, and wherein it\nconsists\u2014whether in some one thing or in a great many. They seem,\nindeed, more inclinable to that opinion that places, if not the whole,\nyet the chief part, of a man\u2019s happiness in pleasure; and, what may\nseem more strange, they make use of arguments even from religion,\nnotwithstanding its severity and roughness, for the support of that\nopinion so indulgent to pleasure; for they never dispute concerning\nhappiness without fetching some arguments from the principles of\nreligion as well as from natural reason, since without the former they\nreckon that all our inquiries after happiness must be but conjectural\nand defective.\n\n\u201cThese are their religious principles:\u2014That the soul of man is\nimmortal, and that God of His goodness has designed that it should be\nhappy; and that He has, therefore, appointed rewards for good and\nvirtuous actions, and punishments for vice, to be distributed after\nthis life. Though these principles of religion are conveyed down among\nthem by tradition, they think that even reason itself determines a man\nto believe and acknowledge them; and freely confess that if these were\ntaken away, no man would be so insensible as not to seek after pleasure\nby all possible means, lawful or unlawful, using only this caution\u2014that\na lesser pleasure might not stand in the way of a greater, and that no\npleasure ought to be pursued that should draw a great deal of pain\nafter it; for they think it the maddest thing in the world to pursue\nvirtue, that is a sour and difficult thing, and not only to renounce\nthe pleasures of life, but willingly to undergo much pain and trouble,\nif a man has no prospect of a reward. And what reward can there be for\none that has passed his whole life, not only without pleasure, but in\npain, if there is nothing to be expected after death? Yet they do not\nplace happiness in all sorts of pleasures, but only in those that in\nthemselves are good and honest. There is a party among them who place\nhappiness in bare virtue; others think that our natures are conducted\nby virtue to happiness, as that which is the chief good of man. They\ndefine virtue thus\u2014that it is a living according to Nature, and think\nthat we are made by God for that end; they believe that a man then\nfollows the dictates of Nature when he pursues or avoids things\naccording to the direction of reason. They say that the first dictate\nof reason is the kindling in us a love and reverence for the Divine\nMajesty, to whom we owe both all that we have and, all that we can ever\nhope for. In the next place, reason directs us to keep our minds as\nfree from passion and as cheerful as we can, and that we should\nconsider ourselves as bound by the ties of good-nature and humanity to\nuse our utmost endeavours to help forward the happiness of all other\npersons; for there never was any man such a morose and severe pursuer\nof virtue, such an enemy to pleasure, that though he set hard rules for\nmen to undergo, much pain, many watchings, and other rigors, yet did\nnot at the same time advise them to do all they could in order to\nrelieve and ease the miserable, and who did not represent gentleness\nand good-nature as amiable dispositions. And from thence they infer\nthat if a man ought to advance the welfare and comfort of the rest of\nmankind (there being no virtue more proper and peculiar to our nature\nthan to ease the miseries of others, to free from trouble and anxiety,\nin furnishing them with the comforts of life, in which pleasure\nconsists) Nature much more vigorously leads them to do all this for\nhimself. A life of pleasure is either a real evil, and in that case we\nought not to assist others in their pursuit of it, but, on the\ncontrary, to keep them from it all we can, as from that which is most\nhurtful and deadly; or if it is a good thing, so that we not only may\nbut ought to help others to it, why, then, ought not a man to begin\nwith himself? since no man can be more bound to look after the good of\nanother than after his own; for Nature cannot direct us to be good and\nkind to others, and yet at the same time to be unmerciful and cruel to\nourselves. Thus as they define virtue to be living according to Nature,\nso they imagine that Nature prompts all people on to seek after\npleasure as the end of all they do. They also observe that in order to\nour supporting the pleasures of life, Nature inclines us to enter into\nsociety; for there is no man so much raised above the rest of mankind\nas to be the only favourite of Nature, who, on the contrary, seems to\nhave placed on a level all those that belong to the same species. Upon\nthis they infer that no man ought to seek his own conveniences so\neagerly as to prejudice others; and therefore they think that not only\nall agreements between private persons ought to be observed, but\nlikewise that all those laws ought to be kept which either a good\nprince has published in due form, or to which a people that is neither\noppressed with tyranny nor circumvented by fraud has consented, for\ndistributing those conveniences of life which afford us all our\npleasures.\n\n\u201cThey think it is an evidence of true wisdom for a man to pursue his\nown advantage as far as the laws allow it, they account it piety to\nprefer the public good to one\u2019s private concerns, but they think it\nunjust for a man to seek for pleasure by snatching another man\u2019s\npleasures from him; and, on the contrary, they think it a sign of a\ngentle and good soul for a man to dispense with his own advantage for\nthe good of others, and that by this means a good man finds as much\npleasure one way as he parts with another; for as he may expect the\nlike from others when he may come to need it, so, if that should fail\nhim, yet the sense of a good action, and the reflections that he makes\non the love and gratitude of those whom he has so obliged, gives the\nmind more pleasure than the body could have found in that from which it\nhad restrained itself. They are also persuaded that God will make up\nthe loss of those small pleasures with a vast and endless joy, of which\nreligion easily convinces a good soul.\n\n\u201cThus, upon an inquiry into the whole matter, they reckon that all our\nactions, and even all our virtues, terminate in pleasure, as in our\nchief end and greatest happiness; and they call every motion or state,\neither of body or mind, in which Nature teaches us to delight, a\npleasure. Thus they cautiously limit pleasure only to those appetites\nto which Nature leads us; for they say that Nature leads us only to\nthose delights to which reason, as well as sense, carries us, and by\nwhich we neither injure any other person nor lose the possession of\ngreater pleasures, and of such as draw no troubles after them. But they\nlook upon those delights which men by a foolish, though common, mistake\ncall pleasure, as if they could change as easily the nature of things\nas the use of words, as things that greatly obstruct their real\nhappiness, instead of advancing it, because they so entirely possess\nthe minds of those that are once captivated by them with a false notion\nof pleasure that there is no room left for pleasures of a truer or\npurer kind.\n\n\u201cThere are many things that in themselves have nothing that is truly\ndelightful; on the contrary, they have a good deal of bitterness in\nthem; and yet, from our perverse appetites after forbidden objects, are\nnot only ranked among the pleasures, but are made even the greatest\ndesigns, of life. Among those who pursue these sophisticated pleasures\nthey reckon such as I mentioned before, who think themselves really the\nbetter for having fine clothes; in which they think they are doubly\nmistaken, both in the opinion they have of their clothes, and in that\nthey have of themselves. For if you consider the use of clothes, why\nshould a fine thread be thought better than a coarse one? And yet these\nmen, as if they had some real advantages beyond others, and did not owe\nthem wholly to their mistakes, look big, seem to fancy themselves to be\nmore valuable, and imagine that a respect is due to them for the sake\nof a rich garment, to which they would not have pretended if they had\nbeen more meanly clothed, and even resent it as an affront if that\nrespect is not paid them. It is also a great folly to be taken with\noutward marks of respect, which signify nothing; for what true or real\npleasure can one man find in another\u2019s standing bare or making legs to\nhim? Will the bending another man\u2019s knees give ease to yours? and will\nthe head\u2019s being bare cure the madness of yours? And yet it is\nwonderful to see how this false notion of pleasure bewitches many who\ndelight themselves with the fancy of their nobility, and are pleased\nwith this conceit\u2014that they are descended from ancestors who have been\nheld for some successions rich, and who have had great possessions; for\nthis is all that makes nobility at present. Yet they do not think\nthemselves a whit the less noble, though their immediate parents have\nleft none of this wealth to them, or though they themselves have\nsquandered it away. The Utopians have no better opinion of those who\nare much taken with gems and precious stones, and who account it a\ndegree of happiness next to a divine one if they can purchase one that\nis very extraordinary, especially if it be of that sort of stones that\nis then in greatest request, for the same sort is not at all times\nuniversally of the same value, nor will men buy it unless it be\ndismounted and taken out of the gold. The jeweller is then made to give\ngood security, and required solemnly to swear that the stone is true,\nthat, by such an exact caution, a false one might not be bought instead\nof a true; though, if you were to examine it, your eye could find no\ndifference between the counterfeit and that which is true; so that they\nare all one to you, as much as if you were blind. Or can it be thought\nthat they who heap up a useless mass of wealth, not for any use that it\nis to bring them, but merely to please themselves with the\ncontemplation of it, enjoy any true pleasure in it? The delight they\nfind is only a false shadow of joy. Those are no better whose error is\nsomewhat different from the former, and who hide it out of their fear\nof losing it; for what other name can fit the hiding it in the earth,\nor, rather, the restoring it to it again, it being thus cut off from\nbeing useful either to its owner or to the rest of mankind? And yet the\nowner, having hid it carefully, is glad, because he thinks he is now\nsure of it. If it should be stole, the owner, though he might live\nperhaps ten years after the theft, of which he knew nothing, would find\nno difference between his having or losing it, for both ways it was\nequally useless to him.\n\n\u201cAmong those foolish pursuers of pleasure they reckon all that delight\nin hunting, in fowling, or gaming, of whose madness they have only\nheard, for they have no such things among them. But they have asked us,\n\u2018What sort of pleasure is it that men can find in throwing the dice?\u2019\n(for if there were any pleasure in it, they think the doing it so often\nshould give one a surfeit of it); \u2018and what pleasure can one find in\nhearing the barking and howling of dogs, which seem rather odious than\npleasant sounds?\u2019 Nor can they comprehend the pleasure of seeing dogs\nrun after a hare, more than of seeing one dog run after another; for if\nthe seeing them run is that which gives the pleasure, you have the same\nentertainment to the eye on both these occasions, since that is the\nsame in both cases. But if the pleasure lies in seeing the hare killed\nand torn by the dogs, this ought rather to stir pity, that a weak,\nharmless, and fearful hare should be devoured by strong, fierce, and\ncruel dogs. Therefore all this business of hunting is, among the\nUtopians, turned over to their butchers, and those, as has been already\nsaid, are all slaves, and they look on hunting as one of the basest\nparts of a butcher\u2019s work, for they account it both more profitable and\nmore decent to kill those beasts that are more necessary and useful to\nmankind, whereas the killing and tearing of so small and miserable an\nanimal can only attract the huntsman with a false show of pleasure,\nfrom which he can reap but small advantage. They look on the desire of\nthe bloodshed, even of beasts, as a mark of a mind that is already\ncorrupted with cruelty, or that at least, by too frequent returns of so\nbrutal a pleasure, must degenerate into it.\n\n\u201cThus though the rabble of mankind look upon these, and on innumerable\nother things of the same nature, as pleasures, the Utopians, on the\ncontrary, observing that there is nothing in them truly pleasant,\nconclude that they are not to be reckoned among pleasures; for though\nthese things may create some tickling in the senses (which seems to be\na true notion of pleasure), yet they imagine that this does not arise\nfrom the thing itself, but from a depraved custom, which may so vitiate\na man\u2019s taste that bitter things may pass for sweet, as women with\nchild think pitch or tallow taste sweeter than honey; but as a man\u2019s\nsense, when corrupted either by a disease or some ill habit, does not\nchange the nature of other things, so neither can it change the nature\nof pleasure.\n\n\u201cThey reckon up several sorts of pleasures, which they call true ones;\nsome belong to the body, and others to the mind. The pleasures of the\nmind lie in knowledge, and in that delight which the contemplation of\ntruth carries with it; to which they add the joyful reflections on a\nwell-spent life, and the assured hopes of a future happiness. They\ndivide the pleasures of the body into two sorts\u2014the one is that which\ngives our senses some real delight, and is performed either by\nrecruiting Nature and supplying those parts which feed the internal\nheat of life by eating and drinking, or when Nature is eased of any\nsurcharge that oppresses it, when we are relieved from sudden pain, or\nthat which arises from satisfying the appetite which Nature has wisely\ngiven to lead us to the propagation of the species. There is another\nkind of pleasure that arises neither from our receiving what the body\nrequires, nor its being relieved when overcharged, and yet, by a secret\nunseen virtue, affects the senses, raises the passions, and strikes the\nmind with generous impressions\u2014this is, the pleasure that arises from\nmusic. Another kind of bodily pleasure is that which results from an\nundisturbed and vigorous constitution of body, when life and active\nspirits seem to actuate every part. This lively health, when entirely\nfree from all mixture of pain, of itself gives an inward pleasure,\nindependent of all external objects of delight; and though this\npleasure does not so powerfully affect us, nor act so strongly on the\nsenses as some of the others, yet it may be esteemed as the greatest of\nall pleasures; and almost all the Utopians reckon it the foundation and\nbasis of all the other joys of life, since this alone makes the state\nof life easy and desirable, and when this is wanting, a man is really\ncapable of no other pleasure. They look upon freedom from pain, if it\ndoes not rise from perfect health, to be a state of stupidity rather\nthan of pleasure. This subject has been very narrowly canvassed among\nthem, and it has been debated whether a firm and entire health could be\ncalled a pleasure or not. Some have thought that there was no pleasure\nbut what was \u2018excited\u2019 by some sensible motion in the body. But this\nopinion has been long ago excluded from among them; so that now they\nalmost universally agree that health is the greatest of all bodily\npleasures; and that as there is a pain in sickness which is as opposite\nin its nature to pleasure as sickness itself is to health, so they hold\nthat health is accompanied with pleasure. And if any should say that\nsickness is not really pain, but that it only carries pain along with\nit, they look upon that as a fetch of subtlety that does not much alter\nthe matter. It is all one, in their opinion, whether it be said that\nhealth is in itself a pleasure, or that it begets a pleasure, as fire\ngives heat, so it be granted that all those whose health is entire have\na true pleasure in the enjoyment of it. And they reason thus:\u2014\u2018What is\nthe pleasure of eating, but that a man\u2019s health, which had been\nweakened, does, with the assistance of food, drive away hunger, and so\nrecruiting itself, recovers its former vigour? And being thus refreshed\nit finds a pleasure in that conflict; and if the conflict is pleasure,\nthe victory must yet breed a greater pleasure, except we fancy that it\nbecomes stupid as soon as it has obtained that which it pursued, and so\nneither knows nor rejoices in its own welfare.\u2019 If it is said that\nhealth cannot be felt, they absolutely deny it; for what man is in\nhealth, that does not perceive it when he is awake? Is there any man\nthat is so dull and stupid as not to acknowledge that he feels a\ndelight in health? And what is delight but another name for pleasure?\n\n\u201cBut, of all pleasures, they esteem those to be most valuable that lie\nin the mind, the chief of which arise out of true virtue and the\nwitness of a good conscience. They account health the chief pleasure\nthat belongs to the body; for they think that the pleasure of eating\nand drinking, and all the other delights of sense, are only so far\ndesirable as they give or maintain health; but they are not pleasant in\nthemselves otherwise than as they resist those impressions that our\nnatural infirmities are still making upon us. For as a wise man desires\nrather to avoid diseases than to take physic, and to be freed from pain\nrather than to find ease by remedies, so it is more desirable not to\nneed this sort of pleasure than to be obliged to indulge it. If any man\nimagines that there is a real happiness in these enjoyments, he must\nthen confess that he would be the happiest of all men if he were to\nlead his life in perpetual hunger, thirst, and itching, and, by\nconsequence, in perpetual eating, drinking, and scratching himself;\nwhich any one may easily see would be not only a base, but a miserable,\nstate of a life. These are, indeed, the lowest of pleasures, and the\nleast pure, for we can never relish them but when they are mixed with\nthe contrary pains. The pain of hunger must give us the pleasure of\neating, and here the pain out-balances the pleasure. And as the pain is\nmore vehement, so it lasts much longer; for as it begins before the\npleasure, so it does not cease but with the pleasure that extinguishes\nit, and both expire together. They think, therefore, none of those\npleasures are to be valued any further than as they are necessary; yet\nthey rejoice in them, and with due gratitude acknowledge the tenderness\nof the great Author of Nature, who has planted in us appetites, by\nwhich those things that are necessary for our preservation are likewise\nmade pleasant to us. For how miserable a thing would life be if those\ndaily diseases of hunger and thirst were to be carried off by such\nbitter drugs as we must use for those diseases that return seldomer\nupon us! And thus these pleasant, as well as proper, gifts of Nature\nmaintain the strength and the sprightliness of our bodies.\n\n\u201cThey also entertain themselves with the other delights let in at their\neyes, their ears, and their nostrils as the pleasant relishes and\nseasoning of life, which Nature seems to have marked out peculiarly for\nman, since no other sort of animals contemplates the figure and beauty\nof the universe, nor is delighted with smells any further than as they\ndistinguish meats by them; nor do they apprehend the concords or\ndiscords of sound. Yet, in all pleasures whatsoever, they take care\nthat a lesser joy does not hinder a greater, and that pleasure may\nnever breed pain, which they think always follows dishonest pleasures.\nBut they think it madness for a man to wear out the beauty of his face\nor the force of his natural strength, to corrupt the sprightliness of\nhis body by sloth and laziness, or to waste it by fasting; that it is\nmadness to weaken the strength of his constitution and reject the other\ndelights of life, unless by renouncing his own satisfaction he can\neither serve the public or promote the happiness of others, for which\nhe expects a greater recompense from God. So that they look on such a\ncourse of life as the mark of a mind that is both cruel to itself and\nungrateful to the Author of Nature, as if we would not be beholden to\nHim for His favours, and therefore rejects all His blessings; as one\nwho should afflict himself for the empty shadow of virtue, or for no\nbetter end than to render himself capable of bearing those misfortunes\nwhich possibly will never happen.\n\n\u201cThis is their notion of virtue and of pleasure: they think that no\nman\u2019s reason can carry him to a truer idea of them unless some\ndiscovery from heaven should inspire him with sublimer notions. I have\nnot now the leisure to examine whether they think right or wrong in\nthis matter; nor do I judge it necessary, for I have only undertaken to\ngive you an account of their constitution, but not to defend all their\nprinciples. I am sure that whatever may be said of their notions, there\nis not in the whole world either a better people or a happier\ngovernment. Their bodies are vigorous and lively; and though they are\nbut of a middle stature, and have neither the fruitfullest soil nor the\npurest air in the world; yet they fortify themselves so well, by their\ntemperate course of life, against the unhealthiness of their air, and\nby their industry they so cultivate their soil, that there is nowhere\nto be seen a greater increase, both of corn and cattle, nor are there\nanywhere healthier men and freer from diseases; for one may there see\nreduced to practice not only all the art that the husbandman employs in\nmanuring and improving an ill soil, but whole woods plucked up by the\nroots, and in other places new ones planted, where there were none\nbefore. Their principal motive for this is the convenience of carriage,\nthat their timber may be either near their towns or growing on the\nbanks of the sea, or of some rivers, so as to be floated to them; for\nit is a harder work to carry wood at any distance over land than corn.\nThe people are industrious, apt to learn, as well as cheerful and\npleasant, and none can endure more labour when it is necessary; but,\nexcept in that case, they love their ease. They are unwearied pursuers\nof knowledge; for when we had given them some hints of the learning and\ndiscipline of the Greeks, concerning whom we only instructed them (for\nwe know that there was nothing among the Romans, except their\nhistorians and their poets, that they would value much), it was strange\nto see how eagerly they were set on learning that language: we began to\nread a little of it to them, rather in compliance with their\nimportunity than out of any hopes of their reaping from it any great\nadvantage: but, after a very short trial, we found they made such\nprogress, that we saw our labour was like to be more successful than we\ncould have expected: they learned to write their characters and to\npronounce their language so exactly, had so quick an apprehension, they\nremembered it so faithfully, and became so ready and correct in the use\nof it, that it would have looked like a miracle if the greater part of\nthose whom we taught had not been men both of extraordinary capacity\nand of a fit age for instruction: they were, for the greatest part,\nchosen from among their learned men by their chief council, though some\nstudied it of their own accord. In three years\u2019 time they became\nmasters of the whole language, so that they read the best of the Greek\nauthors very exactly. I am, indeed, apt to think that they learned that\nlanguage the more easily from its having some relation to their own. I\nbelieve that they were a colony of the Greeks; for though their\nlanguage comes nearer the Persian, yet they retain many names, both for\ntheir towns and magistrates, that are of Greek derivation. I happened\nto carry a great many books with me, instead of merchandise, when I\nsailed my fourth voyage; for I was so far from thinking of soon coming\nback, that I rather thought never to have returned at all, and I gave\nthem all my books, among which were many of Plato\u2019s and some of\nAristotle\u2019s works: I had also Theophrastus on Plants, which, to my\ngreat regret, was imperfect; for having laid it carelessly by, while we\nwere at sea, a monkey had seized upon it, and in many places torn out\nthe leaves. They have no books of grammar but Lascares, for I did not\ncarry Theodorus with me; nor have they any dictionaries but Hesichius\nand Dioscerides. They esteem Plutarch highly, and were much taken with\nLucian\u2019s wit and with his pleasant way of writing. As for the poets,\nthey have Aristophanes, Homer, Euripides, and Sophocles of Aldus\u2019s\nedition; and for historians, Thucydides, Herodotus, and Herodian. One\nof my companions, Thricius Apinatus, happened to carry with him some of\nHippocrates\u2019s works and Galen\u2019s Microtechne, which they hold in great\nestimation; for though there is no nation in the world that needs\nphysic so little as they do, yet there is not any that honours it so\nmuch; they reckon the knowledge of it one of the pleasantest and most\nprofitable parts of philosophy, by which, as they search into the\nsecrets of nature, so they not only find this study highly agreeable,\nbut think that such inquiries are very acceptable to the Author of\nnature; and imagine, that as He, like the inventors of curious engines\namongst mankind, has exposed this great machine of the universe to the\nview of the only creatures capable of contemplating it, so an exact and\ncurious observer, who admires His workmanship, is much more acceptable\nto Him than one of the herd, who, like a beast incapable of reason,\nlooks on this glorious scene with the eyes of a dull and unconcerned\nspectator.\n\n\u201cThe minds of the Utopians, when fenced with a love for learning, are\nvery ingenious in discovering all such arts as are necessary to carry\nit to perfection. Two things they owe to us, the manufacture of paper\nand the art of printing; yet they are not so entirely indebted to us\nfor these discoveries but that a great part of the invention was their\nown. We showed them some books printed by Aldus, we explained to them\nthe way of making paper and the mystery of printing; but, as we had\nnever practised these arts, we described them in a crude and\nsuperficial manner. They seized the hints we gave them; and though at\nfirst they could not arrive at perfection, yet by making many essays\nthey at last found out and corrected all their errors and conquered\nevery difficulty. Before this they only wrote on parchment, on reeds,\nor on the barks of trees; but now they have established the\nmanufactures of paper and set up printing presses, so that, if they had\nbut a good number of Greek authors, they would be quickly supplied with\nmany copies of them: at present, though they have no more than those I\nhave mentioned, yet, by several impressions, they have multiplied them\ninto many thousands. If any man was to go among them that had some\nextraordinary talent, or that by much travelling had observed the\ncustoms of many nations (which made us to be so well received), he\nwould receive a hearty welcome, for they are very desirous to know the\nstate of the whole world. Very few go among them on the account of\ntraffic; for what can a man carry to them but iron, or gold, or silver?\nwhich merchants desire rather to export than import to a strange\ncountry: and as for their exportation, they think it better to manage\nthat themselves than to leave it to foreigners, for by this means, as\nthey understand the state of the neighbouring countries better, so they\nkeep up the art of navigation which cannot be maintained but by much\npractice.\n\n\n\n\nOF THEIR SLAVES, AND OF THEIR MARRIAGES\n\n\n\u201cThey do not make slaves of prisoners of war, except those that are\ntaken in battle, nor of the sons of their slaves, nor of those of other\nnations: the slaves among them are only such as are condemned to that\nstate of life for the commission of some crime, or, which is more\ncommon, such as their merchants find condemned to die in those parts to\nwhich they trade, whom they sometimes redeem at low rates, and in other\nplaces have them for nothing. They are kept at perpetual labour, and\nare always chained, but with this difference, that their own natives\nare treated much worse than others: they are considered as more\nprofligate than the rest, and since they could not be restrained by the\nadvantages of so excellent an education, are judged worthy of harder\nusage. Another sort of slaves are the poor of the neighbouring\ncountries, who offer of their own accord to come and serve them: they\ntreat these better, and use them in all other respects as well as their\nown countrymen, except their imposing more labour upon them, which is\nno hard task to those that have been accustomed to it; and if any of\nthese have a mind to go back to their own country, which, indeed, falls\nout but seldom, as they do not force them to stay, so they do not send\nthem away empty-handed.\n\n\u201cI have already told you with what care they look after their sick, so\nthat nothing is left undone that can contribute either to their ease or\nhealth; and for those who are taken with fixed and incurable diseases,\nthey use all possible ways to cherish them and to make their lives as\ncomfortable as possible. They visit them often and take great pains to\nmake their time pass off easily; but when any is taken with a torturing\nand lingering pain, so that there is no hope either of recovery or\nease, the priests and magistrates come and exhort them, that, since\nthey are now unable to go on with the business of life, are become a\nburden to themselves and to all about them, and they have really\nout-lived themselves, they should no longer nourish such a rooted\ndistemper, but choose rather to die since they cannot live but in much\nmisery; being assured that if they thus deliver themselves from\ntorture, or are willing that others should do it, they shall be happy\nafter death: since, by their acting thus, they lose none of the\npleasures, but only the troubles of life, they think they behave not\nonly reasonably but in a manner consistent with religion and piety;\nbecause they follow the advice given them by their priests, who are the\nexpounders of the will of God. Such as are wrought on by these\npersuasions either starve themselves of their own accord, or take\nopium, and by that means die without pain. But no man is forced on this\nway of ending his life; and if they cannot be persuaded to it, this\ndoes not induce them to fail in their attendance and care of them: but\nas they believe that a voluntary death, when it is chosen upon such an\nauthority, is very honourable, so if any man takes away his own life\nwithout the approbation of the priests and the senate, they give him\nnone of the honours of a decent funeral, but throw his body into a\nditch.\n\n\u201cTheir women are not married before eighteen nor their men before\ntwo-and-twenty, and if any of them run into forbidden embraces before\nmarriage they are severely punished, and the privilege of marriage is\ndenied them unless they can obtain a special warrant from the Prince.\nSuch disorders cast a great reproach upon the master and mistress of\nthe family in which they happen, for it is supposed that they have\nfailed in their duty. The reason of punishing this so severely is,\nbecause they think that if they were not strictly restrained from all\nvagrant appetites, very few would engage in a state in which they\nventure the quiet of their whole lives, by being confined to one\nperson, and are obliged to endure all the inconveniences with which it\nis accompanied. In choosing their wives they use a method that would\nappear to us very absurd and ridiculous, but it is constantly observed\namong them, and is accounted perfectly consistent with wisdom. Before\nmarriage some grave matron presents the bride, naked, whether she is a\nvirgin or a widow, to the bridegroom, and after that some grave man\npresents the bridegroom, naked, to the bride. We, indeed, both laughed\nat this, and condemned it as very indecent. But they, on the other\nhand, wondered at the folly of the men of all other nations, who, if\nthey are but to buy a horse of a small value, are so cautious that they\nwill see every part of him, and take off both his saddle and all his\nother tackle, that there may be no secret ulcer hid under any of them,\nand that yet in the choice of a wife, on which depends the happiness or\nunhappiness of the rest of his life, a man should venture upon trust,\nand only see about a handsbreadth of the face, all the rest of the body\nbeing covered, under which may lie hid what may be contagious as well\nas loathsome. All men are not so wise as to choose a woman only for her\ngood qualities, and even wise men consider the body as that which adds\nnot a little to the mind, and it is certain there may be some such\ndeformity covered with clothes as may totally alienate a man from his\nwife, when it is too late to part with her; if such a thing is\ndiscovered after marriage a man has no remedy but patience; they,\ntherefore, think it is reasonable that there should be good provision\nmade against such mischievous frauds.\n\n\u201cThere was so much the more reason for them to make a regulation in\nthis matter, because they are the only people of those parts that\nneither allow of polygamy nor of divorces, except in the case of\nadultery or insufferable perverseness, for in these cases the Senate\ndissolves the marriage and grants the injured person leave to marry\nagain; but the guilty are made infamous and are never allowed the\nprivilege of a second marriage. None are suffered to put away their\nwives against their wills, from any great calamity that may have fallen\non their persons, for they look on it as the height of cruelty and\ntreachery to abandon either of the married persons when they need most\nthe tender care of their consort, and that chiefly in the case of old\nage, which, as it carries many diseases along with it, so it is a\ndisease of itself. But it frequently falls out that when a married\ncouple do not well agree, they, by mutual consent, separate, and find\nout other persons with whom they hope they may live more happily; yet\nthis is not done without obtaining leave of the Senate, which never\nadmits of a divorce but upon a strict inquiry made, both by the\nsenators and their wives, into the grounds upon which it is desired,\nand even when they are satisfied concerning the reasons of it they go\non but slowly, for they imagine that too great easiness in granting\nleave for new marriages would very much shake the kindness of married\npeople. They punish severely those that defile the marriage bed; if\nboth parties are married they are divorced, and the injured persons may\nmarry one another, or whom they please, but the adulterer and the\nadulteress are condemned to slavery, yet if either of the injured\npersons cannot shake off the love of the married person they may live\nwith them still in that state, but they must follow them to that labour\nto which the slaves are condemned, and sometimes the repentance of the\ncondemned, together with the unshaken kindness of the innocent and\ninjured person, has prevailed so far with the Prince that he has taken\noff the sentence; but those that relapse after they are once pardoned\nare punished with death.\n\n\u201cTheir law does not determine the punishment for other crimes, but that\nis left to the Senate, to temper it according to the circumstances of\nthe fact. Husbands have power to correct their wives and parents to\nchastise their children, unless the fault is so great that a public\npunishment is thought necessary for striking terror into others. For\nthe most part slavery is the punishment even of the greatest crimes,\nfor as that is no less terrible to the criminals themselves than death,\nso they think the preserving them in a state of servitude is more for\nthe interest of the commonwealth than killing them, since, as their\nlabour is a greater benefit to the public than their death could be, so\nthe sight of their misery is a more lasting terror to other men than\nthat which would be given by their death. If their slaves rebel, and\nwill not bear their yoke and submit to the labour that is enjoined\nthem, they are treated as wild beasts that cannot be kept in order,\nneither by a prison nor by their chains, and are at last put to death.\nBut those who bear their punishment patiently, and are so much wrought\non by that pressure that lies so hard on them, that it appears they are\nreally more troubled for the crimes they have committed than for the\nmiseries they suffer, are not out of hope, but that, at last, either\nthe Prince will, by his prerogative, or the people, by their\nintercession, restore them again to their liberty, or, at least, very\nmuch mitigate their slavery. He that tempts a married woman to adultery\nis no less severely punished than he that commits it, for they believe\nthat a deliberate design to commit a crime is equal to the fact itself,\nsince its not taking effect does not make the person that miscarried in\nhis attempt at all the less guilty.\n\n\u201cThey take great pleasure in fools, and as it is thought a base and\nunbecoming thing to use them ill, so they do not think it amiss for\npeople to divert themselves with their folly; and, in their opinion,\nthis is a great advantage to the fools themselves; for if men were so\nsullen and severe as not at all to please themselves with their\nridiculous behaviour and foolish sayings, which is all that they can do\nto recommend themselves to others, it could not be expected that they\nwould be so well provided for nor so tenderly used as they must\notherwise be. If any man should reproach another for his being\nmisshaped or imperfect in any part of his body, it would not at all be\nthought a reflection on the person so treated, but it would be\naccounted scandalous in him that had upbraided another with what he\ncould not help. It is thought a sign of a sluggish and sordid mind not\nto preserve carefully one\u2019s natural beauty; but it is likewise infamous\namong them to use paint. They all see that no beauty recommends a wife\nso much to her husband as the probity of her life and her obedience;\nfor as some few are caught and held only by beauty, so all are\nattracted by the other excellences which charm all the world.\n\n\u201cAs they fright men from committing crimes by punishments, so they\ninvite them to the love of virtue by public honours; therefore they\nerect statues to the memories of such worthy men as have deserved well\nof their country, and set these in their market-places, both to\nperpetuate the remembrance of their actions and to be an incitement to\ntheir posterity to follow their example.\n\n\u201cIf any man aspires to any office he is sure never to compass it. They\nall live easily together, for none of the magistrates are either\ninsolent or cruel to the people; they affect rather to be called\nfathers, and, by being really so, they well deserve the name; and the\npeople pay them all the marks of honour the more freely because none\nare exacted from them. The Prince himself has no distinction, either of\ngarments or of a crown; but is only distinguished by a sheaf of corn\ncarried before him; as the High Priest is also known by his being\npreceded by a person carrying a wax light.\n\n\u201cThey have but few laws, and such is their constitution that they need\nnot many. They very much condemn other nations whose laws, together\nwith the commentaries on them, swell up to so many volumes; for they\nthink it an unreasonable thing to oblige men to obey a body of laws\nthat are both of such a bulk, and so dark as not to be read and\nunderstood by every one of the subjects.\n\n\u201cThey have no lawyers among them, for they consider them as a sort of\npeople whose profession it is to disguise matters and to wrest the\nlaws, and, therefore, they think it is much better that every man\nshould plead his own cause, and trust it to the judge, as in other\nplaces the client trusts it to a counsellor; by this means they both\ncut off many delays and find out truth more certainly; for after the\nparties have laid open the merits of the cause, without those artifices\nwhich lawyers are apt to suggest, the judge examines the whole matter,\nand supports the simplicity of such well-meaning persons, whom\notherwise crafty men would be sure to run down; and thus they avoid\nthose evils which appear very remarkably among all those nations that\nlabour under a vast load of laws. Every one of them is skilled in their\nlaw; for, as it is a very short study, so the plainest meaning of which\nwords are capable is always the sense of their laws; and they argue\nthus: all laws are promulgated for this end, that every man may know\nhis duty; and, therefore, the plainest and most obvious sense of the\nwords is that which ought to be put upon them, since a more refined\nexposition cannot be easily comprehended, and would only serve to make\nthe laws become useless to the greater part of mankind, and especially\nto those who need most the direction of them; for it is all one not to\nmake a law at all or to couch it in such terms that, without a quick\napprehension and much study, a man cannot find out the true meaning of\nit, since the generality of mankind are both so dull, and so much\nemployed in their several trades, that they have neither the leisure\nnor the capacity requisite for such an inquiry.\n\n\u201cSome of their neighbours, who are masters of their own liberties\n(having long ago, by the assistance of the Utopians, shaken off the\nyoke of tyranny, and being much taken with those virtues which they\nobserve among them), have come to desire that they would send\nmagistrates to govern them, some changing them every year, and others\nevery five years; at the end of their government they bring them back\nto Utopia, with great expressions of honour and esteem, and carry away\nothers to govern in their stead. In this they seem to have fallen upon\na very good expedient for their own happiness and safety; for since the\ngood or ill condition of a nation depends so much upon their\nmagistrates, they could not have made a better choice than by pitching\non men whom no advantages can bias; for wealth is of no use to them,\nsince they must so soon go back to their own country, and they, being\nstrangers among them, are not engaged in any of their heats or\nanimosities; and it is certain that when public judicatories are\nswayed, either by avarice or partial affections, there must follow a\ndissolution of justice, the chief sinew of society.\n\n\u201cThe Utopians call those nations that come and ask magistrates from\nthem Neighbours; but those to whom they have been of more particular\nservice, Friends; and as all other nations are perpetually either\nmaking leagues or breaking them, they never enter into an alliance with\nany state. They think leagues are useless things, and believe that if\nthe common ties of humanity do not knit men together, the faith of\npromises will have no great effect; and they are the more confirmed in\nthis by what they see among the nations round about them, who are no\nstrict observers of leagues and treaties. We know how religiously they\nare observed in Europe, more particularly where the Christian doctrine\nis received, among whom they are sacred and inviolable! which is partly\nowing to the justice and goodness of the princes themselves, and partly\nto the reverence they pay to the popes, who, as they are the most\nreligious observers of their own promises, so they exhort all other\nprinces to perform theirs, and, when fainter methods do not prevail,\nthey compel them to it by the severity of the pastoral censure, and\nthink that it would be the most indecent thing possible if men who are\nparticularly distinguished by the title of \u2018The Faithful\u2019 should not\nreligiously keep the faith of their treaties. But in that new-found\nworld, which is not more distant from us in situation than the people\nare in their manners and course of life, there is no trusting to\nleagues, even though they were made with all the pomp of the most\nsacred ceremonies; on the contrary, they are on this account the sooner\nbroken, some slight pretence being found in the words of the treaties,\nwhich are purposely couched in such ambiguous terms that they can never\nbe so strictly bound but they will always find some loophole to escape\nat, and thus they break both their leagues and their faith; and this is\ndone with such impudence, that those very men who value themselves on\nhaving suggested these expedients to their princes would, with a\nhaughty scorn, declaim against such craft; or, to speak plainer, such\nfraud and deceit, if they found private men make use of it in their\nbargains, and would readily say that they deserved to be hanged.\n\n\u201cBy this means it is that all sort of justice passes in the world for a\nlow-spirited and vulgar virtue, far below the dignity of royal\ngreatness\u2014or at least there are set up two sorts of justice; the one is\nmean and creeps on the ground, and, therefore, becomes none but the\nlower part of mankind, and so must be kept in severely by many\nrestraints, that it may not break out beyond the bounds that are set to\nit; the other is the peculiar virtue of princes, which, as it is more\nmajestic than that which becomes the rabble, so takes a freer compass,\nand thus lawful and unlawful are only measured by pleasure and\ninterest. These practices of the princes that lie about Utopia, who\nmake so little account of their faith, seem to be the reasons that\ndetermine them to engage in no confederacy. Perhaps they would change\ntheir mind if they lived among us; but yet, though treaties were more\nreligiously observed, they would still dislike the custom of making\nthem, since the world has taken up a false maxim upon it, as if there\nwere no tie of nature uniting one nation to another, only separated\nperhaps by a mountain or a river, and that all were born in a state of\nhostility, and so might lawfully do all that mischief to their\nneighbours against which there is no provision made by treaties; and\nthat when treaties are made they do not cut off the enmity or restrain\nthe licence of preying upon each other, if, by the unskilfulness of\nwording them, there are not effectual provisoes made against them;\nthey, on the other hand, judge that no man is to be esteemed our enemy\nthat has never injured us, and that the partnership of human nature is\ninstead of a league; and that kindness and good nature unite men more\neffectually and with greater strength than any agreements whatsoever,\nsince thereby the engagements of men\u2019s hearts become stronger than the\nbond and obligation of words.\n\n\n\n\nOF THEIR MILITARY DISCIPLINE\n\n\nThey detest war as a very brutal thing, and which, to the reproach of\nhuman nature, is more practised by men than by any sort of beasts.\nThey, in opposition to the sentiments of almost all other nations,\nthink that there is nothing more inglorious than that glory that is\ngained by war; and therefore, though they accustom themselves daily to\nmilitary exercises and the discipline of war, in which not only their\nmen, but their women likewise, are trained up, that, in cases of\nnecessity, they may not be quite useless, yet they do not rashly engage\nin war, unless it be either to defend themselves or their friends from\nany unjust aggressors, or, out of good nature or in compassion, assist\nan oppressed nation in shaking off the yoke of tyranny. They, indeed,\nhelp their friends not only in defensive but also in offensive wars;\nbut they never do that unless they had been consulted before the breach\nwas made, and, being satisfied with the grounds on which they went,\nthey had found that all demands of reparation were rejected, so that a\nwar was unavoidable. This they think to be not only just when one\nneighbour makes an inroad on another by public order, and carries away\nthe spoils, but when the merchants of one country are oppressed in\nanother, either under pretence of some unjust laws, or by the perverse\nwresting of good ones. This they count a juster cause of war than the\nother, because those injuries are done under some colour of laws. This\nwas the only ground of that war in which they engaged with the\nNephelogetes against the Aleopolitanes, a little before our time; for\nthe merchants of the former having, as they thought, met with great\ninjustice among the latter, which (whether it was in itself right or\nwrong) drew on a terrible war, in which many of their neighbours were\nengaged; and their keenness in carrying it on being supported by their\nstrength in maintaining it, it not only shook some very flourishing\nstates and very much afflicted others, but, after a series of much\nmischief ended in the entire conquest and slavery of the Aleopolitanes,\nwho, though before the war they were in all respects much superior to\nthe Nephelogetes, were yet subdued; but, though the Utopians had\nassisted them in the war, yet they pretended to no share of the spoil.\n\n\u201cBut, though they so vigorously assist their friends in obtaining\nreparation for the injuries they have received in affairs of this\nnature, yet, if any such frauds were committed against themselves,\nprovided no violence was done to their persons, they would only, on\ntheir being refused satisfaction, forbear trading with such a people.\nThis is not because they consider their neighbours more than their own\ncitizens; but, since their neighbours trade every one upon his own\nstock, fraud is a more sensible injury to them than it is to the\nUtopians, among whom the public, in such a case, only suffers, as they\nexpect no thing in return for the merchandise they export but that in\nwhich they so much abound, and is of little use to them, the loss does\nnot much affect them. They think, therefore, it would be too severe to\nrevenge a loss attended with so little inconvenience, either to their\nlives or their subsistence, with the death of many persons; but if any\nof their people are either killed or wounded wrongfully, whether it be\ndone by public authority, or only by private men, as soon as they hear\nof it they send ambassadors, and demand that the guilty persons may be\ndelivered up to them, and if that is denied, they declare war; but if\nit be complied with, the offenders are condemned either to death or\nslavery.\n\n\u201cThey would be both troubled and ashamed of a bloody victory over their\nenemies; and think it would be as foolish a purchase as to buy the most\nvaluable goods at too high a rate. And in no victory do they glory so\nmuch as in that which is gained by dexterity and good conduct without\nbloodshed. In such cases they appoint public triumphs, and erect\ntrophies to the honour of those who have succeeded; for then do they\nreckon that a man acts suitably to his nature, when he conquers his\nenemy in such a way as that no other creature but a man could be\ncapable of, and that is by the strength of his understanding. Bears,\nlions, boars, wolves, and dogs, and all other animals, employ their\nbodily force one against another, in which, as many of them are\nsuperior to men, both in strength and fierceness, so they are all\nsubdued by his reason and understanding.\n\n\u201cThe only design of the Utopians in war is to obtain that by force\nwhich, if it had been granted them in time, would have prevented the\nwar; or, if that cannot be done, to take so severe a revenge on those\nthat have injured them that they may be terrified from doing the like\nfor the time to come. By these ends they measure all their designs, and\nmanage them so, that it is visible that the appetite of fame or\nvainglory does not work so much on there as a just care of their own\nsecurity.\n\n\u201cAs soon as they declare war, they take care to have a great many\nschedules, that are sealed with their common seal, affixed in the most\nconspicuous places of their enemies\u2019 country. This is carried secretly,\nand done in many places all at once. In these they promise great\nrewards to such as shall kill the prince, and lesser in proportion to\nsuch as shall kill any other persons who are those on whom, next to the\nprince himself, they cast the chief balance of the war. And they double\nthe sum to him that, instead of killing the person so marked out, shall\ntake him alive, and put him in their hands. They offer not only\nindemnity, but rewards, to such of the persons themselves that are so\nmarked, if they will act against their countrymen. By this means those\nthat are named in their schedules become not only distrustful of their\nfellow-citizens, but are jealous of one another, and are much\ndistracted by fear and danger; for it has often fallen out that many of\nthem, and even the prince himself, have been betrayed, by those in whom\nthey have trusted most; for the rewards that the Utopians offer are so\nimmeasurably great, that there is no sort of crime to which men cannot\nbe drawn by them. They consider the risk that those run who undertake\nsuch services, and offer a recompense proportioned to the danger\u2014not\nonly a vast deal of gold, but great revenues in lands, that lie among\nother nations that are their friends, where they may go and enjoy them\nvery securely; and they observe the promises they make of their kind\nmost religiously. They very much approve of this way of corrupting\ntheir enemies, though it appears to others to be base and cruel; but\nthey look on it as a wise course, to make an end of what would be\notherwise a long war, without so much as hazarding one battle to decide\nit. They think it likewise an act of mercy and love to mankind to\nprevent the great slaughter of those that must otherwise be killed in\nthe progress of the war, both on their own side and on that of their\nenemies, by the death of a few that are most guilty; and that in so\ndoing they are kind even to their enemies, and pity them no less than\ntheir own people, as knowing that the greater part of them do not\nengage in the war of their own accord, but are driven into it by the\npassions of their prince.\n\n\u201cIf this method does not succeed with them, then they sow seeds of\ncontention among their enemies, and animate the prince\u2019s brother, or\nsome of the nobility, to aspire to the crown. If they cannot disunite\nthem by domestic broils, then they engage their neighbours against\nthem, and make them set on foot some old pretensions, which are never\nwanting to princes when they have occasion for them. These they\nplentifully supply with money, though but very sparingly with any\nauxiliary troops; for they are so tender of their own people that they\nwould not willingly exchange one of them, even with the prince of their\nenemies\u2019 country.\n\n\u201cBut as they keep their gold and silver only for such an occasion, so,\nwhen that offers itself, they easily part with it; since it would be no\nconvenience to them, though they should reserve nothing of it to\nthemselves. For besides the wealth that they have among them at home,\nthey have a vast treasure abroad; many nations round about them being\ndeep in their debt: so that they hire soldiers from all places for\ncarrying on their wars; but chiefly from the Zapolets, who live five\nhundred miles east of Utopia. They are a rude, wild, and fierce nation,\nwho delight in the woods and rocks, among which they were born and bred\nup. They are hardened both against heat, cold, and labour, and know\nnothing of the delicacies of life. They do not apply themselves to\nagriculture, nor do they care either for their houses or their clothes:\ncattle is all that they look after; and for the greatest part they live\neither by hunting or upon rapine; and are made, as it were, only for\nwar. They watch all opportunities of engaging in it, and very readily\nembrace such as are offered them. Great numbers of them will frequently\ngo out, and offer themselves for a very low pay, to serve any that will\nemploy them: they know none of the arts of life, but those that lead to\nthe taking it away; they serve those that hire them, both with much\ncourage and great fidelity; but will not engage to serve for any\ndetermined time, and agree upon such terms, that the next day they may\ngo over to the enemies of those whom they serve if they offer them a\ngreater encouragement; and will, perhaps, return to them the day after\nthat upon a higher advance of their pay. There are few wars in which\nthey make not a considerable part of the armies of both sides: so it\noften falls out that they who are related, and were hired in the same\ncountry, and so have lived long and familiarly together, forgetting\nboth their relations and former friendship, kill one another upon no\nother consideration than that of being hired to it for a little money\nby princes of different interests; and such a regard have they for\nmoney that they are easily wrought on by the difference of one penny a\nday to change sides. So entirely does their avarice influence them; and\nyet this money, which they value so highly, is of little use to them;\nfor what they purchase thus with their blood they quickly waste on\nluxury, which among them is but of a poor and miserable form.\n\n\u201cThis nation serves the Utopians against all people whatsoever, for\nthey pay higher than any other. The Utopians hold this for a maxim,\nthat as they seek out the best sort of men for their own use at home,\nso they make use of this worst sort of men for the consumption of war;\nand therefore they hire them with the offers of vast rewards to expose\nthemselves to all sorts of hazards, out of which the greater part never\nreturns to claim their promises; yet they make them good most\nreligiously to such as escape. This animates them to adventure again,\nwhenever there is occasion for it; for the Utopians are not at all\ntroubled how many of these happen to be killed, and reckon it a service\ndone to mankind if they could be a means to deliver the world from such\na lewd and vicious sort of people, that seem to have run together, as\nto the drain of human nature. Next to these, they are served in their\nwars with those upon whose account they undertake them, and with the\nauxiliary troops of their other friends, to whom they join a few of\ntheir own people, and send some man of eminent and approved virtue to\ncommand in chief. There are two sent with him, who, during his command,\nare but private men, but the first is to succeed him if he should\nhappen to be either killed or taken; and, in case of the like\nmisfortune to him, the third comes in his place; and thus they provide\nagainst all events, that such accidents as may befall their generals\nmay not endanger their armies. When they draw out troops of their own\npeople, they take such out of every city as freely offer themselves,\nfor none are forced to go against their wills, since they think that if\nany man is pressed that wants courage, he will not only act faintly,\nbut by his cowardice dishearten others. But if an invasion is made on\ntheir country, they make use of such men, if they have good bodies,\nthough they are not brave; and either put them aboard their ships, or\nplace them on the walls of their towns, that being so posted, they may\nfind no opportunity of flying away; and thus either shame, the heat of\naction, or the impossibility of flying, bears down their cowardice;\nthey often make a virtue of necessity, and behave themselves well,\nbecause nothing else is left them. But as they force no man to go into\nany foreign war against his will, so they do not hinder those women who\nare willing to go along with their husbands; on the contrary, they\nencourage and praise them, and they stand often next their husbands in\nthe front of the army. They also place together those who are related,\nparents, and children, kindred, and those that are mutually allied,\nnear one another; that those whom nature has inspired with the greatest\nzeal for assisting one another may be the nearest and readiest to do\nit; and it is matter of great reproach if husband or wife survive one\nanother, or if a child survives his parent, and therefore when they\ncome to be engaged in action, they continue to fight to the last man,\nif their enemies stand before them: and as they use all prudent methods\nto avoid the endangering their own men, and if it is possible let all\nthe action and danger fall upon the troops that they hire, so if it\nbecomes necessary for themselves to engage, they then charge with as\nmuch courage as they avoided it before with prudence: nor is it a\nfierce charge at first, but it increases by degrees; and as they\ncontinue in action, they grow more obstinate, and press harder upon the\nenemy, insomuch that they will much sooner die than give ground; for\nthe certainty that their children will be well looked after when they\nare dead frees them from all that anxiety concerning them which often\nmasters men of great courage; and thus they are animated by a noble and\ninvincible resolution. Their skill in military affairs increases their\ncourage: and the wise sentiments which, according to the laws of their\ncountry, are instilled into them in their education, give additional\nvigour to their minds: for as they do not undervalue life so as\nprodigally to throw it away, they are not so indecently fond of it as\nto preserve it by base and unbecoming methods. In the greatest heat of\naction the bravest of their youth, who have devoted themselves to that\nservice, single out the general of their enemies, set on him either\nopenly or by ambuscade; pursue him everywhere, and when spent and\nwearied out, are relieved by others, who never give over the pursuit,\neither attacking him with close weapons when they can get near him, or\nwith those which wound at a distance, when others get in between them.\nSo that, unless he secures himself by flight, they seldom fail at last\nto kill or to take him prisoner. When they have obtained a victory,\nthey kill as few as possible, and are much more bent on taking many\nprisoners than on killing those that fly before them. Nor do they ever\nlet their men so loose in the pursuit of their enemies as not to retain\nan entire body still in order; so that if they have been forced to\nengage the last of their battalions before they could gain the day,\nthey will rather let their enemies all escape than pursue them when\ntheir own army is in disorder; remembering well what has often fallen\nout to themselves, that when the main body of their army has been quite\ndefeated and broken, when their enemies, imagining the victory\nobtained, have let themselves loose into an irregular pursuit, a few of\nthem that lay for a reserve, waiting a fit opportunity, have fallen on\nthem in their chase, and when straggling in disorder, and apprehensive\nof no danger, but counting the day their own, have turned the whole\naction, and, wresting out of their hands a victory that seemed certain\nand undoubted, while the vanquished have suddenly become victorious.\n\n\u201cIt is hard to tell whether they are more dexterous in laying or\navoiding ambushes. They sometimes seem to fly when it is far from their\nthoughts; and when they intend to give ground, they do it so that it is\nvery hard to find out their design. If they see they are ill posted, or\nare like to be overpowered by numbers, they then either march off in\nthe night with great silence, or by some stratagem delude their\nenemies. If they retire in the day-time, they do it in such order that\nit is no less dangerous to fall upon them in a retreat than in a march.\nThey fortify their camps with a deep and large trench; and throw up the\nearth that is dug out of it for a wall; nor do they employ only their\nslaves in this, but the whole army works at it, except those that are\nthen upon the guard; so that when so many hands are at work, a great\nline and a strong fortification is finished in so short a time that it\nis scarce credible. Their armour is very strong for defence, and yet is\nnot so heavy as to make them uneasy in their marches; they can even\nswim with it. All that are trained up to war practise swimming. Both\nhorse and foot make great use of arrows, and are very expert. They have\nno swords, but fight with a pole-axe that is both sharp and heavy, by\nwhich they thrust or strike down an enemy. They are very good at\nfinding out warlike machines, and disguise them so well that the enemy\ndoes not perceive them till he feels the use of them; so that he cannot\nprepare such a defence as would render them useless; the chief\nconsideration had in the making them is that they may be easily carried\nand managed.\n\n\u201cIf they agree to a truce, they observe it so religiously that no\nprovocations will make them break it. They never lay their enemies\u2019\ncountry waste nor burn their corn, and even in their marches they take\nall possible care that neither horse nor foot may tread it down, for\nthey do not know but that they may have use for it themselves. They\nhurt no man whom they find disarmed, unless he is a spy. When a town is\nsurrendered to them, they take it into their protection; and when they\ncarry a place by storm they never plunder it, but put those only to the\nsword that oppose the rendering of it up, and make the rest of the\ngarrison slaves, but for the other inhabitants, they do them no hurt;\nand if any of them had advised a surrender, they give them good rewards\nout of the estates of those that they condemn, and distribute the rest\namong their auxiliary troops, but they themselves take no share of the\nspoil.\n\n\u201cWhen a war is ended, they do not oblige their friends to reimburse\ntheir expenses; but they obtain them of the conquered, either in money,\nwhich they keep for the next occasion, or in lands, out of which a\nconstant revenue is to be paid them; by many increases the revenue\nwhich they draw out from several countries on such occasions is now\nrisen to above 700,000 ducats a year. They send some of their own\npeople to receive these revenues, who have orders to live magnificently\nand like princes, by which means they consume much of it upon the\nplace; and either bring over the rest to Utopia or lend it to that\nnation in which it lies. This they most commonly do, unless some great\noccasion, which falls out but very seldom, should oblige them to call\nfor it all. It is out of these lands that they assign rewards to such\nas they encourage to adventure on desperate attempts. If any prince\nthat engages in war with them is making preparations for invading their\ncountry, they prevent him, and make his country the seat of the war;\nfor they do not willingly suffer any war to break in upon their island;\nand if that should happen, they would only defend themselves by their\nown people; but would not call for auxiliary troops to their\nassistance.\n\n\n\n\nOF THE RELIGIONS OF THE UTOPIANS\n\n\n\u201cThere are several sorts of religions, not only in different parts of\nthe island, but even in every town; some worshipping the sun, others\nthe moon or one of the planets. Some worship such men as have been\neminent in former times for virtue or glory, not only as ordinary\ndeities, but as the supreme god. Yet the greater and wiser sort of them\nworship none of these, but adore one eternal, invisible, infinite, and\nincomprehensible Deity; as a Being that is far above all our\napprehensions, that is spread over the whole universe, not by His bulk,\nbut by His power and virtue; Him they call the Father of All, and\nacknowledge that the beginnings, the increase, the progress, the\nvicissitudes, and the end of all things come only from Him; nor do they\noffer divine honours to any but to Him alone. And, indeed, though they\ndiffer concerning other things, yet all agree in this: that they think\nthere is one Supreme Being that made and governs the world, whom they\ncall, in the language of their country, Mithras. They differ in this:\nthat one thinks the god whom he worships is this Supreme Being, and\nanother thinks that his idol is that god; but they all agree in one\nprinciple, that whoever is this Supreme Being, He is also that great\nessence to whose glory and majesty all honours are ascribed by the\nconsent of all nations.\n\n\u201cBy degrees they fall off from the various superstitions that are among\nthem, and grow up to that one religion that is the best and most in\nrequest; and there is no doubt to be made, but that all the others had\nvanished long ago, if some of those who advised them to lay aside their\nsuperstitions had not met with some unhappy accidents, which, being\nconsidered as inflicted by heaven, made them afraid that the god whose\nworship had like to have been abandoned had interposed and revenged\nthemselves on those who despised their authority.\n\n\u201cAfter they had heard from us an account of the doctrine, the course of\nlife, and the miracles of Christ, and of the wonderful constancy of so\nmany martyrs, whose blood, so willingly offered up by them, was the\nchief occasion of spreading their religion over a vast number of\nnations, it is not to be imagined how inclined they were to receive it.\nI shall not determine whether this proceeded from any secret\ninspiration of God, or whether it was because it seemed so favourable\nto that community of goods, which is an opinion so particular as well\nas so dear to them; since they perceived that Christ and His followers\nlived by that rule, and that it was still kept up in some communities\namong the sincerest sort of Christians. From whichsoever of these\nmotives it might be, true it is, that many of them came over to our\nreligion, and were initiated into it by baptism. But as two of our\nnumber were dead, so none of the four that survived were in priests\u2019\norders, we, therefore, could only baptise them, so that, to our great\nregret, they could not partake of the other sacraments, that can only\nbe administered by priests, but they are instructed concerning them and\nlong most vehemently for them. They have had great disputes among\nthemselves, whether one chosen by them to be a priest would not be\nthereby qualified to do all the things that belong to that character,\neven though he had no authority derived from the Pope, and they seemed\nto be resolved to choose some for that employment, but they had not\ndone it when I left them.\n\n\u201cThose among them that have not received our religion do not fright any\nfrom it, and use none ill that goes over to it, so that all the while I\nwas there one man was only punished on this occasion. He being newly\nbaptised did, notwithstanding all that we could say to the contrary,\ndispute publicly concerning the Christian religion, with more zeal than\ndiscretion, and with so much heat, that he not only preferred our\nworship to theirs, but condemned all their rites as profane, and cried\nout against all that adhered to them as impious and sacrilegious\npersons, that were to be damned to everlasting burnings. Upon his\nhaving frequently preached in this manner he was seized, and after\ntrial he was condemned to banishment, not for having disparaged their\nreligion, but for his inflaming the people to sedition; for this is one\nof their most ancient laws, that no man ought to be punished for his\nreligion. At the first constitution of their government, Utopus having\nunderstood that before his coming among them the old inhabitants had\nbeen engaged in great quarrels concerning religion, by which they were\nso divided among themselves, that he found it an easy thing to conquer\nthem, since, instead of uniting their forces against him, every\ndifferent party in religion fought by themselves. After he had subdued\nthem he made a law that every man might be of what religion he pleased,\nand might endeavour to draw others to it by the force of argument and\nby amicable and modest ways, but without bitterness against those of\nother opinions; but that he ought to use no other force but that of\npersuasion, and was neither to mix with it reproaches nor violence; and\nsuch as did otherwise were to be condemned to banishment or slavery.\n\n\u201cThis law was made by Utopus, not only for preserving the public peace,\nwhich he saw suffered much by daily contentions and irreconcilable\nheats, but because he thought the interest of religion itself required\nit. He judged it not fit to determine anything rashly; and seemed to\ndoubt whether those different forms of religion might not all come from\nGod, who might inspire man in a different manner, and be pleased with\nthis variety; he therefore thought it indecent and foolish for any man\nto threaten and terrify another to make him believe what did not appear\nto him to be true. And supposing that only one religion was really\ntrue, and the rest false, he imagined that the native force of truth\nwould at last break forth and shine bright, if supported only by the\nstrength of argument, and attended to with a gentle and unprejudiced\nmind; while, on the other hand, if such debates were carried on with\nviolence and tumults, as the most wicked are always the most obstinate,\nso the best and most holy religion might be choked with superstition,\nas corn is with briars and thorns; he therefore left men wholly to\ntheir liberty, that they might be free to believe as they should see\ncause; only he made a solemn and severe law against such as should so\nfar degenerate from the dignity of human nature, as to think that our\nsouls died with our bodies, or that the world was governed by chance,\nwithout a wise overruling Providence: for they all formerly believed\nthat there was a state of rewards and punishments to the good and bad\nafter this life; and they now look on those that think otherwise as\nscarce fit to be counted men, since they degrade so noble a being as\nthe soul, and reckon it no better than a beast\u2019s: thus they are far\nfrom looking on such men as fit for human society, or to be citizens of\na well-ordered commonwealth; since a man of such principles must needs,\nas oft as he dares do it, despise all their laws and customs: for there\nis no doubt to be made, that a man who is afraid of nothing but the\nlaw, and apprehends nothing after death, will not scruple to break\nthrough all the laws of his country, either by fraud or force, when by\nthis means he may satisfy his appetites. They never raise any that hold\nthese maxims, either to honours or offices, nor employ them in any\npublic trust, but despise them, as men of base and sordid minds. Yet\nthey do not punish them, because they lay this down as a maxim, that a\nman cannot make himself believe anything he pleases; nor do they drive\nany to dissemble their thoughts by threatenings, so that men are not\ntempted to lie or disguise their opinions; which being a sort of fraud,\nis abhorred by the Utopians: they take care indeed to prevent their\ndisputing in defence of these opinions, especially before the common\npeople: but they suffer, and even encourage them to dispute concerning\nthem in private with their priest, and other grave men, being confident\nthat they will be cured of those mad opinions by having reason laid\nbefore them. There are many among them that run far to the other\nextreme, though it is neither thought an ill nor unreasonable opinion,\nand therefore is not at all discouraged. They think that the souls of\nbeasts are immortal, though far inferior to the dignity of the human\nsoul, and not capable of so great a happiness. They are almost all of\nthem very firmly persuaded that good men will be infinitely happy in\nanother state: so that though they are compassionate to all that are\nsick, yet they lament no man\u2019s death, except they see him loath to part\nwith life; for they look on this as a very ill presage, as if the soul,\nconscious to itself of guilt, and quite hopeless, was afraid to leave\nthe body, from some secret hints of approaching misery. They think that\nsuch a man\u2019s appearance before God cannot be acceptable to Him, who\nbeing called on, does not go out cheerfully, but is backward and\nunwilling, and is as it were dragged to it. They are struck with horror\nwhen they see any die in this manner, and carry them out in silence and\nwith sorrow, and praying God that He would be merciful to the errors of\nthe departed soul, they lay the body in the ground: but when any die\ncheerfully, and full of hope, they do not mourn for them, but sing\nhymns when they carry out their bodies, and commending their souls very\nearnestly to God: their whole behaviour is then rather grave than sad,\nthey burn the body, and set up a pillar where the pile was made, with\nan inscription to the honour of the deceased. When they come from the\nfuneral, they discourse of his good life, and worthy actions, but speak\nof nothing oftener and with more pleasure than of his serenity at the\nhour of death. They think such respect paid to the memory of good men\nis both the greatest incitement to engage others to follow their\nexample, and the most acceptable worship that can be offered them; for\nthey believe that though by the imperfection of human sight they are\ninvisible to us, yet they are present among us, and hear those\ndiscourses that pass concerning themselves. They believe it\ninconsistent with the happiness of departed souls not to be at liberty\nto be where they will: and do not imagine them capable of the\ningratitude of not desiring to see those friends with whom they lived\non earth in the strictest bonds of love and kindness: besides, they are\npersuaded that good men, after death, have these affections; and all\nother good dispositions increased rather than diminished, and therefore\nconclude that they are still among the living, and observe all they say\nor do. From hence they engage in all their affairs with the greater\nconfidence of success, as trusting to their protection; while this\nopinion of the presence of their ancestors is a restraint that prevents\ntheir engaging in ill designs.\n\n\u201cThey despise and laugh at auguries, and the other vain and\nsuperstitious ways of divination, so much observed among other nations;\nbut have great reverence for such miracles as cannot flow from any of\nthe powers of nature, and look on them as effects and indications of\nthe presence of the Supreme Being, of which they say many instances\nhave occurred among them; and that sometimes their public prayers,\nwhich upon great and dangerous occasions they have solemnly put up to\nGod, with assured confidence of being heard, have been answered in a\nmiraculous manner.\n\n\u201cThey think the contemplating God in His works, and the adoring Him for\nthem, is a very acceptable piece of worship to Him.\n\n\u201cThere are many among them that upon a motive of religion neglect\nlearning, and apply themselves to no sort of study; nor do they allow\nthemselves any leisure time, but are perpetually employed, believing\nthat by the good things that a man does he secures to himself that\nhappiness that comes after death. Some of these visit the sick; others\nmend highways, cleanse ditches, repair bridges, or dig turf, gravel, or\nstone. Others fell and cleave timber, and bring wood, corn, and other\nnecessaries, on carts, into their towns; nor do these only serve the\npublic, but they serve even private men, more than the slaves\nthemselves do: for if there is anywhere a rough, hard, and sordid piece\nof work to be done, from which many are frightened by the labour and\nloathsomeness of it, if not the despair of accomplishing it, they\ncheerfully, and of their own accord, take that to their share; and by\nthat means, as they ease others very much, so they afflict themselves,\nand spend their whole life in hard labour: and yet they do not value\nthemselves upon this, nor lessen other people\u2019s credit to raise their\nown; but by their stooping to such servile employments they are so far\nfrom being despised, that they are so much the more esteemed by the\nwhole nation.\n\n\u201cOf these there are two sorts: some live unmarried and chaste, and\nabstain from eating any sort of flesh; and thus weaning themselves from\nall the pleasures of the present life, which they account hurtful, they\npursue, even by the hardest and painfullest methods possible, that\nblessedness which they hope for hereafter; and the nearer they approach\nto it, they are the more cheerful and earnest in their endeavours after\nit. Another sort of them is less willing to put themselves to much\ntoil, and therefore prefer a married state to a single one; and as they\ndo not deny themselves the pleasure of it, so they think the begetting\nof children is a debt which they owe to human nature, and to their\ncountry; nor do they avoid any pleasure that does not hinder labour;\nand therefore eat flesh so much the more willingly, as they find that\nby this means they are the more able to work: the Utopians look upon\nthese as the wiser sect, but they esteem the others as the most holy.\nThey would indeed laugh at any man who, from the principles of reason,\nwould prefer an unmarried state to a married, or a life of labour to an\neasy life: but they reverence and admire such as do it from the motives\nof religion. There is nothing in which they are more cautious than in\ngiving their opinion positively concerning any sort of religion. The\nmen that lead those severe lives are called in the language of their\ncountry Brutheskas, which answers to those we call Religious Orders.\n\n\u201cTheir priests are men of eminent piety, and therefore they are but\nfew, for there are only thirteen in every town, one for every temple;\nbut when they go to war, seven of these go out with their forces, and\nseven others are chosen to supply their room in their absence; but\nthese enter again upon their employments when they return; and those\nwho served in their absence, attend upon the high priest, till\nvacancies fall by death; for there is one set over the rest. They are\nchosen by the people as the other magistrates are, by suffrages given\nin secret, for preventing of factions: and when they are chosen, they\nare consecrated by the college of priests. The care of all sacred\nthings, the worship of God, and an inspection into the manners of the\npeople, are committed to them. It is a reproach to a man to be sent for\nby any of them, or for them to speak to him in secret, for that always\ngives some suspicion: all that is incumbent on them is only to exhort\nand admonish the people; for the power of correcting and punishing ill\nmen belongs wholly to the Prince, and to the other magistrates: the\nseverest thing that the priest does is the excluding those that are\ndesperately wicked from joining in their worship: there is not any sort\nof punishment more dreaded by them than this, for as it loads them with\ninfamy, so it fills them with secret horrors, such is their reverence\nto their religion; nor will their bodies be long exempted from their\nshare of trouble; for if they do not very quickly satisfy the priests\nof the truth of their repentance, they are seized on by the Senate, and\npunished for their impiety. The education of youth belongs to the\npriests, yet they do not take so much care of instructing them in\nletters, as in forming their minds and manners aright; they use all\npossible methods to infuse, very early, into the tender and flexible\nminds of children, such opinions as are both good in themselves and\nwill be useful to their country, for when deep impressions of these\nthings are made at that age, they follow men through the whole course\nof their lives, and conduce much to preserve the peace of the\ngovernment, which suffers by nothing more than by vices that rise out\nof ill opinions. The wives of their priests are the most extraordinary\nwomen of the whole country; sometimes the women themselves are made\npriests, though that falls out but seldom, nor are any but ancient\nwidows chosen into that order.\n\n\u201cNone of the magistrates have greater honour paid them than is paid the\npriests; and if they should happen to commit any crime, they would not\nbe questioned for it; their punishment is left to God, and to their own\nconsciences; for they do not think it lawful to lay hands on any man,\nhow wicked soever he is, that has been in a peculiar manner dedicated\nto God; nor do they find any great inconvenience in this, both because\nthey have so few priests, and because these are chosen with much\ncaution, so that it must be a very unusual thing to find one who,\nmerely out of regard to his virtue, and for his being esteemed a\nsingularly good man, was raised up to so great a dignity, degenerate\ninto corruption and vice; and if such a thing should fall out, for man\nis a changeable creature, yet, there being few priests, and these\nhaving no authority but what rises out of the respect that is paid\nthem, nothing of great consequence to the public can proceed from the\nindemnity that the priests enjoy.\n\n\u201cThey have, indeed, very few of them, lest greater numbers sharing in\nthe same honour might make the dignity of that order, which they esteem\nso highly, to sink in its reputation; they also think it difficult to\nfind out many of such an exalted pitch of goodness as to be equal to\nthat dignity, which demands the exercise of more than ordinary virtues.\nNor are the priests in greater veneration among them than they are\namong their neighbouring nations, as you may imagine by that which I\nthink gives occasion for it.\n\n\u201cWhen the Utopians engage in battle, the priests who accompany them to\nthe war, apparelled in their sacred vestments, kneel down during the\naction (in a place not far from the field), and, lifting up their hands\nto heaven, pray, first for peace, and then for victory to their own\nside, and particularly that it may be gained without the effusion of\nmuch blood on either side; and when the victory turns to their side,\nthey run in among their own men to restrain their fury; and if any of\ntheir enemies see them or call to them, they are preserved by that\nmeans; and such as can come so near them as to touch their garments\nhave not only their lives, but their fortunes secured to them; it is\nupon this account that all the nations round about consider them so\nmuch, and treat them with such reverence, that they have been often no\nless able to preserve their own people from the fury of their enemies\nthan to save their enemies from their rage; for it has sometimes fallen\nout, that when their armies have been in disorder and forced to fly, so\nthat their enemies were running upon the slaughter and spoil, the\npriests by interposing have separated them from one another, and\nstopped the effusion of more blood; so that, by their mediation, a\npeace has been concluded on very reasonable terms; nor is there any\nnation about them so fierce, cruel, or barbarous, as not to look upon\ntheir persons as sacred and inviolable.\n\n\u201cThe first and the last day of the month, and of the year, is a\nfestival; they measure their months by the course of the moon, and\ntheir years by the course of the sun: the first days are called in\ntheir language the Cynemernes, and the last the Trapemernes, which\nanswers in our language, to the festival that begins or ends the\nseason.\n\n\u201cThey have magnificent temples, that are not only nobly built, but\nextremely spacious, which is the more necessary as they have so few of\nthem; they are a little dark within, which proceeds not from any error\nin the architecture, but is done with design; for their priests think\nthat too much light dissipates the thoughts, and that a more moderate\ndegree of it both recollects the mind and raises devotion. Though there\nare many different forms of religion among them, yet all these, how\nvarious soever, agree in the main point, which is the worshipping the\nDivine Essence; and, therefore, there is nothing to be seen or heard in\ntheir temples in which the several persuasions among them may not\nagree; for every sect performs those rites that are peculiar to it in\ntheir private houses, nor is there anything in the public worship that\ncontradicts the particular ways of those different sects. There are no\nimages for God in their temples, so that every one may represent Him to\nhis thoughts according to the way of his religion; nor do they call\nthis one God by any other name but that of Mithras, which is the common\nname by which they all express the Divine Essence, whatsoever otherwise\nthey think it to be; nor are there any prayers among them but such as\nevery one of them may use without prejudice to his own opinion.\n\n\u201cThey meet in their temples on the evening of the festival that\nconcludes a season, and not having yet broke their fast, they thank God\nfor their good success during that year or month which is then at an\nend; and the next day, being that which begins the new season, they\nmeet early in their temples, to pray for the happy progress of all\ntheir affairs during that period upon which they then enter. In the\nfestival which concludes the period, before they go to the temple, both\nwives and children fall on their knees before their husbands or parents\nand confess everything in which they have either erred or failed in\ntheir duty, and beg pardon for it. Thus all little discontents in\nfamilies are removed, that they may offer up their devotions with a\npure and serene mind; for they hold it a great impiety to enter upon\nthem with disturbed thoughts, or with a consciousness of their bearing\nhatred or anger in their hearts to any person whatsoever; and think\nthat they should become liable to severe punishments if they presumed\nto offer sacrifices without cleansing their hearts, and reconciling all\ntheir differences. In the temples the two sexes are separated, the men\ngo to the right hand, and the women to the left; and the males and\nfemales all place themselves before the head and master or mistress of\nthe family to which they belong, so that those who have the government\nof them at home may see their deportment in public. And they\nintermingle them so, that the younger and the older may be set by one\nanother; for if the younger sort were all set together, they would,\nperhaps, trifle away that time too much in which they ought to beget in\nthemselves that religious dread of the Supreme Being which is the\ngreatest and almost the only incitement to virtue.\n\n\u201cThey offer up no living creature in sacrifice, nor do they think it\nsuitable to the Divine Being, from whose bounty it is that these\ncreatures have derived their lives, to take pleasure in their deaths,\nor the offering up their blood. They burn incense and other sweet\nodours, and have a great number of wax lights during their worship, not\nout of any imagination that such oblations can add anything to the\ndivine nature (which even prayers cannot do), but as it is a harmless\nand pure way of worshipping God; so they think those sweet savours and\nlights, together with some other ceremonies, by a secret and\nunaccountable virtue, elevate men\u2019s souls, and inflame them with\ngreater energy and cheerfulness during the divine worship.\n\n\u201cAll the people appear in the temples in white garments; but the\npriest\u2019s vestments are parti-coloured, and both the work and colours\nare wonderful. They are made of no rich materials, for they are neither\nembroidered nor set with precious stones; but are composed of the\nplumes of several birds, laid together with so much art, and so neatly,\nthat the true value of them is far beyond the costliest materials. They\nsay, that in the ordering and placing those plumes some dark mysteries\nare represented, which pass down among their priests in a secret\ntradition concerning them; and that they are as hieroglyphics, putting\nthem in mind of the blessing that they have received from God, and of\ntheir duties, both to Him and to their neighbours. As soon as the\npriest appears in those ornaments, they all fall prostrate on the\nground, with so much reverence and so deep a silence, that such as look\non cannot but be struck with it, as if it were the effect of the\nappearance of a deity. After they have been for some time in this\nposture, they all stand up, upon a sign given by the priest, and sing\nhymns to the honour of God, some musical instruments playing all the\nwhile. These are quite of another form than those used among us; but,\nas many of them are much sweeter than ours, so others are made use of\nby us. Yet in one thing they very much exceed us: all their music, both\nvocal and instrumental, is adapted to imitate and express the passions,\nand is so happily suited to every occasion, that, whether the subject\nof the hymn be cheerful, or formed to soothe or trouble the mind, or to\nexpress grief or remorse, the music takes the impression of whatever is\nrepresented, affects and kindles the passions, and works the sentiments\ndeep into the hearts of the hearers. When this is done, both priests\nand people offer up very solemn prayers to God in a set form of words;\nand these are so composed, that whatsoever is pronounced by the whole\nassembly may be likewise applied by every man in particular to his own\ncondition. In these they acknowledge God to be the author and governor\nof the world, and the fountain of all the good they receive, and\ntherefore offer up to him their thanksgiving; and, in particular, bless\nhim for His goodness in ordering it so, that they are born under the\nhappiest government in the world, and are of a religion which they hope\nis the truest of all others; but, if they are mistaken, and if there is\neither a better government, or a religion more acceptable to God, they\nimplore His goodness to let them know it, vowing that they resolve to\nfollow him whithersoever he leads them; but if their government is the\nbest, and their religion the truest, then they pray that He may fortify\nthem in it, and bring all the world both to the same rules of life, and\nto the same opinions concerning Himself, unless, according to the\nunsearchableness of His mind, He is pleased with a variety of\nreligions. Then they pray that God may give them an easy passage at\nlast to Himself, not presuming to set limits to Him, how early or late\nit should be; but, if it may be wished for without derogating from His\nsupreme authority, they desire to be quickly delivered, and to be taken\nto Himself, though by the most terrible kind of death, rather than to\nbe detained long from seeing Him by the most prosperous course of life.\nWhen this prayer is ended, they all fall down again upon the ground;\nand, after a little while, they rise up, go home to dinner, and spend\nthe rest of the day in diversion or military exercises.\n\n\u201cThus have I described to you, as particularly as I could, the\nConstitution of that commonwealth, which I do not only think the best\nin the world, but indeed the only commonwealth that truly deserves that\nname. In all other places it is visible that, while people talk of a\ncommonwealth, every man only seeks his own wealth; but there, where no\nman has any property, all men zealously pursue the good of the public,\nand, indeed, it is no wonder to see men act so differently, for in\nother commonwealths every man knows that, unless he provides for\nhimself, how flourishing soever the commonwealth may be, he must die of\nhunger, so that he sees the necessity of preferring his own concerns to\nthe public; but in Utopia, where every man has a right to everything,\nthey all know that if care is taken to keep the public stores full no\nprivate man can want anything; for among them there is no unequal\ndistribution, so that no man is poor, none in necessity, and though no\nman has anything, yet they are all rich; for what can make a man so\nrich as to lead a serene and cheerful life, free from anxieties;\nneither apprehending want himself, nor vexed with the endless\ncomplaints of his wife? He is not afraid of the misery of his children,\nnor is he contriving how to raise a portion for his daughters; but is\nsecure in this, that both he and his wife, his children and\ngrand-children, to as many generations as he can fancy, will all live\nboth plentifully and happily; since, among them, there is no less care\ntaken of those who were once engaged in labour, but grow afterwards\nunable to follow it, than there is, elsewhere, of these that continue\nstill employed. I would gladly hear any man compare the justice that is\namong them with that of all other nations; among whom, may I perish, if\nI see anything that looks either like justice or equity; for what\njustice is there in this: that a nobleman, a goldsmith, a banker, or\nany other man, that either does nothing at all, or, at best, is\nemployed in things that are of no use to the public, should live in\ngreat luxury and splendour upon what is so ill acquired, and a mean\nman, a carter, a smith, or a ploughman, that works harder even than the\nbeasts themselves, and is employed in labours so necessary, that no\ncommonwealth could hold out a year without them, can only earn so poor\na livelihood and must lead so miserable a life, that the condition of\nthe beasts is much better than theirs? For as the beasts do not work so\nconstantly, so they feed almost as well, and with more pleasure, and\nhave no anxiety about what is to come, whilst these men are depressed\nby a barren and fruitless employment, and tormented with the\napprehensions of want in their old age; since that which they get by\ntheir daily labour does but maintain them at present, and is consumed\nas fast as it comes in, there is no overplus left to lay up for old\nage.\n\n\u201cIs not that government both unjust and ungrateful, that is so prodigal\nof its favours to those that are called gentlemen, or goldsmiths, or\nsuch others who are idle, or live either by flattery or by contriving\nthe arts of vain pleasure, and, on the other hand, takes no care of\nthose of a meaner sort, such as ploughmen, colliers, and smiths,\nwithout whom it could not subsist? But after the public has reaped all\nthe advantage of their service, and they come to be oppressed with age,\nsickness, and want, all their labours and the good they have done is\nforgotten, and all the recompense given them is that they are left to\ndie in great misery. The richer sort are often endeavouring to bring\nthe hire of labourers lower, not only by their fraudulent practices,\nbut by the laws which they procure to be made to that effect, so that\nthough it is a thing most unjust in itself to give such small rewards\nto those who deserve so well of the public, yet they have given those\nhardships the name and colour of justice, by procuring laws to be made\nfor regulating them.\n\n\u201cTherefore I must say that, as I hope for mercy, I can have no other\nnotion of all the other governments that I see or know, than that they\nare a conspiracy of the rich, who, on pretence of managing the public,\nonly pursue their private ends, and devise all the ways and arts they\ncan find out; first, that they may, without danger, preserve all that\nthey have so ill-acquired, and then, that they may engage the poor to\ntoil and labour for them at as low rates as possible, and oppress them\nas much as they please; and if they can but prevail to get these\ncontrivances established by the show of public authority, which is\nconsidered as the representative of the whole people, then they are\naccounted laws; yet these wicked men, after they have, by a most\ninsatiable covetousness, divided that among themselves with which all\nthe rest might have been well supplied, are far from that happiness\nthat is enjoyed among the Utopians; for the use as well as the desire\nof money being extinguished, much anxiety and great occasions of\nmischief is cut off with it, and who does not see that the frauds,\nthefts, robberies, quarrels, tumults, contentions, seditions, murders,\ntreacheries, and witchcrafts, which are, indeed, rather punished than\nrestrained by the severities of law, would all fall off, if money were\nnot any more valued by the world? Men\u2019s fears, solicitudes, cares,\nlabours, and watchings would all perish in the same moment with the\nvalue of money; even poverty itself, for the relief of which money\nseems most necessary, would fall. But, in order to the apprehending\nthis aright, take one instance:\u2014\n\n\u201cConsider any year, that has been so unfruitful that many thousands\nhave died of hunger; and yet if, at the end of that year, a survey was\nmade of the granaries of all the rich men that have hoarded up the\ncorn, it would be found that there was enough among them to have\nprevented all that consumption of men that perished in misery; and\nthat, if it had been distributed among them, none would have felt the\nterrible effects of that scarcity: so easy a thing would it be to\nsupply all the necessities of life, if that blessed thing called money,\nwhich is pretended to be invented for procuring them was not really the\nonly thing that obstructed their being procured!\n\n\u201cI do not doubt but rich men are sensible of this, and that they well\nknow how much a greater happiness it is to want nothing necessary, than\nto abound in many superfluities; and to be rescued out of so much\nmisery, than to abound with so much wealth: and I cannot think but the\nsense of every man\u2019s interest, added to the authority of Christ\u2019s\ncommands, who, as He was infinitely wise, knew what was best, and was\nnot less good in discovering it to us, would have drawn all the world\nover to the laws of the Utopians, if pride, that plague of human\nnature, that source of so much misery, did not hinder it; for this vice\ndoes not measure happiness so much by its own conveniences, as by the\nmiseries of others; and would not be satisfied with being thought a\ngoddess, if none were left that were miserable, over whom she might\ninsult. Pride thinks its own happiness shines the brighter, by\ncomparing it with the misfortunes of other persons; that by displaying\nits own wealth they may feel their poverty the more sensibly. This is\nthat infernal serpent that creeps into the breasts of mortals, and\npossesses them too much to be easily drawn out; and, therefore, I am\nglad that the Utopians have fallen upon this form of government, in\nwhich I wish that all the world could be so wise as to imitate them;\nfor they have, indeed, laid down such a scheme and foundation of\npolicy, that as men live happily under it, so it is like to be of great\ncontinuance; for they having rooted out of the minds of their people\nall the seeds, both of ambition and faction, there is no danger of any\ncommotions at home; which alone has been the ruin of many states that\nseemed otherwise to be well secured; but as long as they live in peace\nat home, and are governed by such good laws, the envy of all their\nneighbouring princes, who have often, though in vain, attempted their\nruin, will never be able to put their state into any commotion or\ndisorder.\u201d\n\nWhen Raphael had thus made an end of speaking, though many things\noccurred to me, both concerning the manners and laws of that people,\nthat seemed very absurd, as well in their way of making war, as in\ntheir notions of religion and divine matters\u2014together with several\nother particulars, but chiefly what seemed the foundation of all the\nrest, their living in common, without the use of money, by which all\nnobility, magnificence, splendour, and majesty, which, according to the\ncommon opinion, are the true ornaments of a nation, would be quite\ntaken away\u2014yet since I perceived that Raphael was weary, and was not\nsure whether he could easily bear contradiction, remembering that he\nhad taken notice of some, who seemed to think they were bound in honour\nto support the credit of their own wisdom, by finding out something to\ncensure in all other men\u2019s inventions, besides their own, I only\ncommended their Constitution, and the account he had given of it in\ngeneral; and so, taking him by the hand, carried him to supper, and\ntold him I would find out some other time for examining this subject\nmore particularly, and for discoursing more copiously upon it. And,\nindeed, I shall be glad to embrace an opportunity of doing it. In the\nmeanwhile, though it must be confessed that he is both a very learned\nman and a person who has obtained a great knowledge of the world, I\ncannot perfectly agree to everything he has related. However, there are\nmany things in the commonwealth of Utopia that I rather wish, than\nhope, to see followed in our governments.","title":"Utopia","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":43525}