BOOK I
HENRY VIII, the unconquered King of England, a prince adorned with all the virtues that
become a great monarch, having some differences of no small consequence with Charles, the
most serene Prince of Castile, sent me into Flanders, as his ambassador, for treating and
composing matters between them. I was colleague and com- panion to that incomparable man
Cuthbert Tonstal, whom the King with such universal applause lately made Master of the
Rolls, but of whom I will say nothing; not because I fear that the testimony of a friend
will be suspected, but rather because his learning and virtues are too great for me to do
them justice, and so well known that they need not my commendations unless I would,
according to the proverb, "Show the sun with a lanthorn." Those that were
appointed by the Prince to treat with us, met us at Bruges, according to agreement; they
were all worthy men. The Margrave of Bruges was their head, and the chief man among them;
but he that was esteemed the wisest, and that spoke for the rest, was George Temse, the
Provost of Casselsee; both art and nature had concurred to make him eloquent: he was very
learned in the law; and as he had a great capacity, so by a long practice in affairs he
was very dexterous at unravelling them.
After we had several times met without coming to an agreement, they went to Brussels
for some days to know the Prince's pleasure. And since our business would admit it, I went
to Antwerp. While I was there, among many that visited me, there was one that was more
acceptable to me than any other, Peter Giles, born at Antwerp, who is a man of great
honor, and of a good rank in his town, though less than he deserves; for I do not know if
there be anywhere to be found a more learned and a better bred young man: for as he is
both a very worthy and a very knowing person, so he is so civil to all men, so
particularly kind to his friends, and so full of candor and affection, that there is not
perhaps above one or two anywhere to be found that are in all respects so perfect a
friend. He is extraordinarily modest, there is no artifice in him; and yet no man has more
of a prudent simplicity: his conversation was so pleasant and so innocently cheerful, that
his company in a great measure lessened any longings to go back to my country, and to my
wife and children, which an absence of four months had quickened very much. One day as I
was returning home from mass at St. Mary's, which is the chief church, and the most
frequented of any in Antwerp, I saw him by accident talking with a stranger, who seemed
past the flower of his age; his face was tanned, he had a long beard, and his cloak was
hanging carelessly about him, so that by his looks and habit I concluded he was a seaman.
As soon as Peter saw me, he came and saluted me; and as I was returning his civility,
he took me aside, and pointing to him with whom he had been discoursing, he said: "Do
you see that man? I was just thinking to bring him to you."
I answered, "He should have been very welcome on your account."
"And on his own too," replied he, "if you knew the man, for there is
none alive that can give so copious an account of unknown nations and countries as he can
do; which I know you very much desire."
Then said I, "I did not guess amiss, for at first sight I took him for a
seaman."
"But you are much mistaken," said he, "for he has not sailed as a
seaman, but as a traveller, or rather a philosopher. This Raphael, who from his family
carries the name of Hythloday, is not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but is eminently
learned in the Greek, having applied himself more particularly to that than to the former,
because he had given himself much to philosophy, in which he knew that the Romans have
left us nothing that is valuable, except what is to be found in Seneca and Cicero. He is a
Portuguese by birth, and was so desirous of seeing the world that he divided his estate
among his brothers, ran the same hazard as Americus Vespucius, and bore a share in three
of his four voyages, that are now published; only he did not return with him in his last,
but obtained leave of him almost by force, that he might be one of those twenty- four who
were left at the farthest place at which they touched, in their last voyage to New
Castile. The leaving him thus did not a little gratify one that was more fond of
travelling than of returning home to be buried in his own country; for he used often to
say that the way to heaven was the same from all places; and he that had no grave had the
heaven still over him. Yet this disposition of mind had cost him dear, if God had not been
very gracious to him; for after he, with five Castilians, had travelled over many
countries, at last, by strange good- fortune, he got to Ceylon, and from thence to
Calicut, where he very happily found some Portuguese ships, and, beyond all men's
expectations, returned to his native country."
When Peter had said this to me, I thanked him for his kindness, in intending to give me
the acquaintance of a man whose conversation he knew would be so acceptable; and upon that
Raphael and I embraced each other. After those civilities were passed which are usual with
strangers upon their first meeting, we all went to my house, and entering into the garden,
sat down on a green bank, and entertained one another in discourse. He told us that when
Vespucius had sailed away, he and his companions that stayed behind in New Castile, by
degrees insinuated themselves into the affections of the people of the country, meeting
often with them, and treating them gently: and at last they not only lived among them
without danger, but conversed familiarly with them; and got so far into the heart of a
prince, whose name and country I have forgot, that he both furnished them plentifully with
all things necessary, and also with the conveniences of travelling; both boats when they
went by water, and wagons when they travelled over land: he sent with them a very faithful
guide, who was to introduce and recommend them to such other princes as they had a mind to
see: and after many days' journey, they came to towns and cities, and to commonwealths,
that were both happily governed and well-peopled. Under the equator, and as far on both
sides of it as the sun moves, there lay vast deserts that were parched with the perpetual
heat of the sun; the soil was withered, all things looked dismally, and all places were
either quite uninhabited, or abounded with wild beasts and serpents, and some few men that
were neither less wild nor less cruel than the beasts themselves.
But as they went farther, a new scene opened, all things grew milder, the air less
burning, the soil more verdant, and even the beasts were less wild: and at last there were
nations, towns, and cities, that had not only mutual commerce among themselves, and with
their neighbors, but traded both by sea and land, to very remote countries. There they
found the conveniences of seeing many countries on all hands, for no ship went any voyage
into which he and his companions were not very welcome. The first vessels that they saw
were flat-bottomed, their sails were made of reeds and wicker woven close together, only
some were of leather; but afterward they found ships made with round keels and canvas
sails, and in all respects like our ships; and the seamen understood both astronomy and
navigation. He got wonderfully into their favor, by showing them the use of the needle, of
which till then they were utterly ignorant. They sailed before with great caution, and
only in summer-time, but now they count all seasons alike, trusting wholly to the
loadstone, in which they are perhaps more secure than safe; so that there is reason to
fear that this discovery, which was thought would prove so much to their advantage, may by
their imprudence become an occasion of much mischief to them. But it were too long to
dwell on all that he told us he had observed in every place, it would be too great a
digression from our present purpose: whatever is necessary to be told, concerning those
wise and prudent institutions which he observed among civilized nations, may perhaps be
related by us on a more proper occasion. We asked him many questions concerning all these
things, to which he answered very willingly; only we made no inquiries after monsters,
than which nothing is more common; for everywhere one may hear of ravenous dogs and
wolves, and cruel man-eaters; but it is not so easy to find States that are well and
wisely governed.
As he told us of many things that were amiss in those newdiscovered countries, so he
reckoned up not a few things from which patterns might be taken for correcting the errors
of these nations among whom we live; of which an account may be given, as I have already
promised, at some other time; for at present I intend only to relate those particulars
that he told us of the manners and laws of the Utopians: but I will begin with the
occasion that led us to speak of that commonwealth. After Raphael had discoursed with
great judgment on the many errors that were both among us and these nations; had treated
of the wise institutions both here and there, and had spoken as distinctly of the customs
and government of every nation through which he had passed, as if he had spent his whole
life in it, Peter, being struck with admiration, said: "I wonder, Raphael, how it
comes that you enter into no king's service, for I am sure there are none to whom you
would not be very acceptable: for your learning and knowledge both of men and things, are
such that you would not only entertain them very pleasantly, but be of great use to them,
by the examples you could set before them and the advices you could give them; and by this
means you would both serve your own interest and be of great use to all your
friends."
"As for my friends," answered he, "I need not be much concerned, having
already done for them all that was incumbent on me; for when I was not only in good
health, but fresh and young, I distributed that among my kindred and friends which other
people do not part with till they are old and sick, when they then unwillingly give that
which they can enjoy no longer themselves. I think my friends ought to rest contented with
this, and not to expect that for their sake I should enslave myself to any king
whatsoever."
"Soft and fair," said Peter, "I do not mean that you should be a slave
to any king, but only that you should assist them, and be useful to them."
"The change of the word," said he, "does not alter the matter."
"But term it as you will," replied Peter, "I do not see any other way in
which you can be so useful, both in private to your friends, and to the public, and by
which you can make your own condition happier."
"Happier!" answered Raphael; "is that to be compassed in a way so
abhorrent to my genius? Now I live as I will, to which I believe few courtiers can
pretend. And there are so many that court the favor of great men, that there will be no
great loss if they are not troubled either with me or with others of my temper."
Upon this, said I: "I perceive, Raphael, that you neither desire wealth nor
greatness; and indeed I value and admire such a man much more than I do any of the great
men in the world. Yet I think you would do what would well become so generous and
philosophical a soul as yours is, if you would apply your time and thoughts to public
affairs, even though you may happen to find it a little uneasy to yourself: and this you
can never do with so much advantage, as by being taken into the counsel of some great
prince, and putting him on noble and worthy actions, which I know you would do if you were
in such a post; for the springs both of good and evil flow from the prince, over a whole
nation, as from a lasting fountain. So much learning as you have, even without practice in
affairs, or so great a practice as you have had, without any other learning, would render
you a very fit counsellor to any king whatsoever."
"You are doubly mistaken," said he, "Mr. More, both in your opinion of
me, and in the judgment you make of things: for as I have not that capacity that you fancy
I have, so, if I had it, the public would not be one jot the better, when I had sacrificed
my quiet to it. For most princes apply themselves more to affairs of war than to the
useful arts of peace; and in these I neither have any knowledge, nor do I much desire it:
they are generally more set on acquiring new kingdoms, right or wrong, than on governing
well those they possess. And among the ministers of princes, there are none that are not
so wise as to need no assistance, or at least that do not think themselves so wise that
they imagine they need none; and if they court any, it is only those for whom the prince
has much personal favor, whom by their fawnings and flatteries they endeavor to fix to
their own interests: and indeed Nature has so made us that we all love to be flattered,
and to please ourselves with our own notions. The old crow loves his young, and the ape
her cubs. Now if in such a court, made up of persons who envy all others, and only admire
themselves, a person should but propose anything that he had either read in history or
observed in his travels, the rest would think that the reputation of their wisdom would
sink, and that their interest would be much depressed, if they could not run it down: and
if all other things failed, then they would fly to this, that such or such things pleased
our ancestors, and it were well for us if we could but match them. They would set up their
rest on such an answer, as a sufficient confutation of all that could be said, as if it
were a great misfortune, that any should be found wiser than his ancestors; but though
they willingly let go all the good things that were among those of former ages, yet if
better things are proposed they cover themselves obstinately with this excuse of reverence
to past times. I have met with these proud, morose, and absurd judgments of things in many
places, particularly once in England."
"Were you ever there?" said I.
"Yes, I was," answered he, "and stayed some months there not long after
the rebellion in the west was suppressed with a great slaughter of the poor people that
were engaged in it. I was then much obliged to that reverend prelate, John Morton,
Archbishop of Canterbury, Cardinal, and Chancellor of England: a man," said he,
"Peter (for Mr. More knows well what he was), that was not less venerable for his
wisdom and virtues than for the high character he bore. He was of a middle stature, not
broken with age; his looks begot reverence rather than fear; his conversation was easy,
but serious and gravehe sometimes took pleasure to try the force of those that came as
suitors to him upon business, by speaking sharply though decently to them, and by that he
discovered their spirit and presence of mind, with which he was much delighted, when it
did not grow up to impudence, as bearing a great resemblance to his own temper; and he
looked on such persons as the fittest men for affairs. He spoke both gracefully and
weightily; he was eminently skilled in the law, had a vast understanding and a prodigious
memory; and those excellent talents with which nature had furnished him were improved by
study and experience. When I was in England the King depended much on his counsels, and
the government seemed to be chiefly supported by him; for from his youth he had been all
along practised in affairs; and having passed through many traverses of fortune, he had
with great cost acquired a vast stock of wisdom, which is not soon lost when it is
purchased so dear.
"One day when I was dining with him there happened to be at table one of the
English lawyers, who took occasion to run out in a high commendation of the severe
execution of justice upon thieves, who, as he said, were then hanged so fast that there
were sometimes twenty on one gibbet; and upon that he said he could not wonder enough how
it came to pass, that since so few escaped, there were yet so many thieves left who were
still robbing in all places. Upon this, I who took the boldness to speak freely before the
cardinal, said there was no reason to wonder at the matter, since this way of punishing
thieves was neither just in itself nor good for the public; for as the severity was too
great, so the remedy was not effectual; simple theft not being so great a crime that it
ought to cost a man his life, no punishment how severe soever being able to restrain those
from robbing who can find out no other way of livelihood. 'In this,' said I, 'not only you
in England, but a great part of the world imitate some ill masters that are readier to
chastise their scholars than to teach them. There are dreadful punishments enacted against
thieves, but it were much better to make such good provisions by which every man might be
put in a method how to live, and so be preserved from the fatal necessity of stealing and
of dying for it.'
"'There has been care enough taken for that,' said he, 'there are many
handicrafts, and there is husbandry, by which they may make a shift to live unless they
have a greater mind to follow ill courses.'
"'That will not serve your turn,' said I, 'for many lose their limbs in civil or
foreign wars, as lately in the Cornish rebellion, and some time ago in your wars with
France, who being thus mutilated in the service of their king and country, can no more
follow their old trades, and are too old to learn new ones: but since wars are only
accidental things, and have intervals, let us consider those things that fall out every
day. There is a great number of noblemen among you, that are themselves as idle as drones,
that subsist on other men's labor, on the labor of their tenants, whom, to raise their
revenues, they pare to the quick. This indeed is the only instance of their frugality, for
in all other things they are prodigal, even to the beggaring of themselves: but besides
this, they carry about with them a great number of idle fellows, who never learned any art
by which they may gain their living; and these, as soon as either their lord dies or they
themselves fall sick, are turned out of doors; for your lords are readier to feed idle
people than to take care of the sick; and often the heir is not able to keep together so
great a family as his predecessor did. Now when the stomachs of those that are thus turned
out of doors grow keen, they rob no less keenly; and what else can they do? for when, by
wandering about, they have worn out both their health and their clothes, and are tattered,
and look ghastly, men of quality will not entertain them, and poor men dare not do it,
knowing that one who has been bred up in idleness and pleasure, and who was used to walk
about with his sword and buckler, despising all the neighborhood with an insolent scorn as
far below him, is not fit for the spade and mattock: nor will he serve a poor man for so
small a hire, and in so low a diet as he can afford to give him.'
"To this he answered: 'This sort of men ought to be particularly cherished, for in
them consists the force of the armies for which we have occasion; since their birth
inspires them with a nobler sense of honor than is to be found among tradesmen or
ploughmen.'
"'You may as well say,' replied I, 'that you must cherish thieves on the account
of wars, for you will never want the one as long as you have the other; and as robbers
prove sometimes gallant soldiers, so soldiers often prove brave robbers; so near an
alliance there is between those two sorts of life. But this bad custom, so common among
you, of keeping many servants, is not peculiar to this nation. In France there is yet a
more pestiferous sort of people, for the whole country is full of soldiers, still kept up
in time of peace, if such a state of a nation can be called a peace: and these are kept in
pay upon the same account that you plead for those idle retainers about noblemen; this
being a maxim of those pretended statesmen that it is necessary for the public safety to
have a good body of veteran soldiers ever in readiness. They think raw men are not to be
depended on, and they sometimes seek occasions for making war, that they may train up
their soldiers in the art of cutting throats; or as Sallust observed, for keeping their
hands in use, that they may not grow dull by too long an intermission. But France has
learned to its cost how dangerous it is to feed such beasts.
"'The fate of the Romans, Carthaginians, and Syrians, and many other nations and
cities, which were both overturned and quite ruined by those standing armies, should make
others wiser: and the folly of this maxim of the French appears plainly even from this,
that their trained soldiers often find your raw men prove too hard for them; of which I
will not say much, lest you may think I flatter the English. Every day's experience shows
that the mechanics in the towns, or the clowns in the country, are not afraid of fighting
with those idle gentlemen, if they are not disabled by some misfortune in their body, or
dispirited by extreme want, so that you need not fear that those well-shaped and strong
men (for it is only such that noblemen love to keep about them, till they spoil them) who
now grow feeble with ease, and are softened with their effeminate manner of life, would be
less fit for action if they were well bred and well employed. And it seems very
unreasonable that for the prospect of a war, which you need never have but when you
please, you should maintain so many idle men, as will always disturb you in time of peace,
which is ever to be more considered than war. But I do not think
that this necessity of stealing arises only from hence; there is another cause of it more
peculiar to England.'
"'What is that?' said the cardinal.
"'The increase of pasture,' said I, 'by which your sheep, which are naturally
mild, and easily kept in order, may be said now to devour men, and unpeople, not only
villages, but towns; for wherever it is found that the sheep of any soil yield a softer
and richer wool than ordinary, there the nobility and gentry, and even those holy men the
abbots, not contented with the old rents which their farms yielded, nor thinking it enough
that they, living at their ease, do no good to the public, resolve to do it hurt instead
of good. They stop the course of agriculture, destroying houses and towns, reserving only
the churches, and enclose grounds that they may lodge their sheep in them. As if forests
and parks had swallowed up too little of the land, those worthy countrymen turn the best
inhabited places in solitudes, for when an insatiable wretch, who is a plague to his
country, resolves to enclose many thousand acres of ground, the owners as well as tenants
are turned out of their possessions, by tricks, or by main force, or being wearied out
with ill-usage, they are forced to sell them. By which means those miserable people, both
men and women, married and unmarried, old and young, with their poor but numerous families
(since country business requires many hands), are all forced to change their seats, not
knowing whither to go; and they must sell almost for nothing their household stuff, which
could not bring them much money, even though they might stay for a buyer. When that little
money is at an end, for it will be soon spent, what is left for them to do, but either to
steal and so to be hanged (God knows how justly), or to go about and beg? And if they do
this, they are put in prison as idle vagabonds; while they would willingly work, but can
find none that will hire them; for there is no more occasion for country labor, to which
they have been bred, when there is no arable ground left. One shepherd can look after a
flock which will stock an extent of ground that would require many hands if it were to be
ploughed and reaped. This likewise in many places raises the price of corn.
"'The price of wool is also so risen that the poor people who were wont to make
cloth are no more able to buy it; and this likewise makes many of them idle. For since the
increase of pasture, God has punished the avarice of the owners by a rot among the sheep,
which has destroyed vast numbers of them; to us it might have seemed more just had it fell
on the owners themselves. But suppose the sheep should increase ever so much, their price
is not like to fall; since though they cannot be called a monopoly, because they are not
engrossed by one person, yet they are in so few hands, and these are so rich, that as they
are not pressed to sell them sooner than they have a mind to it, so they never do it till
they have raised the price as high as possible. And on the same account it is, that the
other kinds of cattle are so dear, because many villages being pulled down, and all
country labor being much neglected, there are none who make it their business to breed
them. The rich do not breed cattle as they do sheep, but buy them lean, and at low prices;
and after they have fattened them on their grounds sell them again at high rates. And I do
not think that all the inconveniences this will produce are yet observed, for as they sell
the cattle dear, so if they are consumed faster than the breeding countries from which
they are brought can afford them, then the stock must decrease, and this must needs end in
great scarcity; and by these means this your island, which seemed as to this particular
the happiest in the world, will suffer much by the cursed avarice of a few persons;
besides this, the rising of corn makes all people lessen their families as much as they
can; and what can those who are dismissed by them do, but either beg or rob? And to this
last, a man of a great mind is much sooner drawn than to the former.
"'Luxury likewise breaks in apace upon you, to set forward your poverty and
misery; there is an excessive vanity in apparel, and great cost in diet; and that not only
in noblemen's families, but even among tradesmen, among the farmers themselves, and among
all ranks of persons. You have also many infamous houses, and, besides those that are
known, the taverns and alehouses are no better; add to these, dice, cards, tables,
foot-ball, tennis, and quoits, in which money runs fast away; and those that are initiated
into them, must in the conclusion betake themselves to robbing for a supply. Banish these
plagues, and give orders that those who have dispeopled so much soil, may either rebuild
the villages they have pulled down, or let out their grounds to such as will do it:
restrain those engrossings of the rich, that are as bad almost as monopolies; leave fewer
occasions to idleness; let agriculture be set up again, and the manufacture of the wool be
regulated, that so there may be work found for those companies of idle people whom want
forces to be thieves, or who, now being idle vagabonds or useless servants, will certainly
grow thieves at last. If you do not find a remedy to these evils, it is a vain thing to
boast of your severity in punishing theft, which though it may have the appearance of
justice, yet in itself is neither just nor convenient. For if you suffer your people to be
ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted from their infancy, and then punish them
for those crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be
concluded from this, but that you first make thieves and then punish them?'
[end of reading assignment on Enclosures]
"While I was talking thus, the counsellor who was present had prepared an answer,
and had resolved to resume all I had said, according to the formality of a debate, in
which things are generally repeated more faithfully than they are answered; as if the
chief trial to be made were of men's memories.
"'You have talked prettily for a stranger,' said he, 'having heard of many things
among us which you have not been able to consider well; but I will make the whole matter
plain to you, and will first repeat in order all that you have said, then I will show how
much your ignorance of our affairs has misled you, and will in the last place answer all
your arguments. And that I may begin where I promised, there were four things --'
"'Hold your peace,' said the cardinal; 'this will take up too much time; therefore
we will at present ease you of the trouble of answering, and reserve it to our next
meeting, which shall be to-morrow, if Raphael's affairs and yours can admit of it. But,
Raphael,' said he to me, 'I would gladly know upon what reason it is that you think theft
ought not to be punished by death? Would you give way to it? Or do you propose any other
punishment that will be more useful to the public? For since death does not restrain
theft, if men thought their lives would be safe, what fear or force could restrain ill
men? On the contrary, they would look on the mitigation of the punishment as an invitation
to commit more crimes.'
"I answered: 'It seems to me a very unjust thing to take away a man's life for a
little money; for nothing in the world can be of equal value with a man's life: and if it
is said that it is not for the money that one suffers, but for his breaking the law, I
must say extreme justice is an extreme injury; for we ought not to approve of these
terrible laws that make the smallest offences capital, nor of that opinion of the Stoics
that makes all crimes equal, as if there were no difference to be made between the killing
a man and the taking his purse, between which, if we examine things impartially, there is
no likeness nor proportion. God has commanded us not to kill, and shall we kill so easily
for a little money? But if one shall say, that by that law we are only forbid to kill any,
except when the laws of the land allow of it; upon the same grounds, laws may be made in
some cases to allow of adultery and perjury: for God having taken from us the right of
disposing, either of our own or of other people's lives, if it is pretended that the
mutual consent of man in making laws can authorize manslaughter in cases in which God has
given us no example, that it frees people from the obligation of the divine law, and so
makes murder a lawful action; what is this, but to give a preference to human laws before
the divine?
"'And if this is once admitted, by the same rule men may in all other things put
what restrictions they please upon the laws of God. If by the Mosaical law, though it was
rough and severe, as being a yoke laid on an obstinate and servile nation, men were only
fined and not put to death for theft, we cannot imagine that in this new law of mercy, in
which God treats us with the tenderness of a father, he has given us a greater license to
cruelty than he did to the Jews. Upon these reasons it is that I think putting thieves to
death is not lawful; and it is plain and obvious that it is absurd, and of ill-consequence
to the commonwealth, that a thief and a murderer should be equally punished; for if a
robber sees that his danger is the same, if he is convicted of theft as if he were guilty
of murder, this will naturally incite him to kill the person whom otherwise he would only
have robbed, since if the punishment is the same, there is more security, and less danger
of discovery, when he that can best make it is put out of the way; so that terrifying
thieves too much, provokes them to cruelty.
"But as to the question, What more convenient way of punishment can be found? I
think it is much more easier to find out that than to invent anything that is worse; why
should we doubt but the way that was so long in use among the old Romans, who understood
so well the arts of government, was very proper for their punishment? They condemned such
as they found guilty of great crimes, to work their whole lives in quarries, or to dig in
mines with chains about them. But the method that I liked best, was that which I observed
in my travels in Persia, among the Polylerits, who are a considerable and well-governed
people. They pay a yearly tribute to the King of Persia; but in all other respects they
are a free nation, and governed by their own laws. They lie far from the sea, and are
environed with hills; and being contented with the productions of their own country, which
is very fruitful, they have little commerce with any other nation; and as they, according
to the genius of their country, have no inclination to enlarge their borders; so their
mountains, and the pension they pay to the Persians, secure them from all invasions.
"'Thus they have no wars among them; they live rather conveniently than with
splendor, and may be rather called a happy nation, than either eminent or famous; for I do
not think that they are known so much as by name to any but their next neighbors. Those
that are found guilty of theft among them are bound to make restitution to the owner, and
not as it is in other places, to the prince, for they reckon that the prince has no more
right to the stolen goods than the thief; but if that which was stolen is no more in
being, then the goods of the thieves are estimated, and restitution being made out of
them, the remainder is given to their wives and children: and they themselves are
condemned to serve in the public works, but are neither imprisoned, nor chained, unless
there happened to be some extraordinary circumstances in their crimes. They go about loose
and free, working for the public. If they are idle or backward to work, they are whipped;
but if they work hard, they are well used and treated without any mark of reproach, only
the lists of them are called always at night, and then they are shut up. They suffer no
other uneasiness, but this of constant labor; for as they work for the public, so they are
well entertained out of the public stock, which is done differently in different places.
In some places, whatever is bestowed on them, is raised by a charitable contribution; and
though this way may seem uncertain, yet so merciful are the inclinations of that people,
that they are plentifully supplied by it; but in other places, public revenues are set
aside for them; or there is a constant tax of a poll-money raised for their maintenance.
In some places they are set to no public work, but every private man that has occasion to
hire workmen goes to the market-places and hires them of the public, a little lower than
he would do a freeman: if they go lazily about their task, he may quicken them with the
whip.
"'By this means there is always some piece of work or other to be done by them;
and beside their livelihood, they earn somewhat still to the public. They all wear a
peculiar habit, of one certain color, and their hair is cropped a little above their ears,
and a piece of one of their ears is cut off. Their friends are allowed to give them either
meat, drink, or clothes so they are of their proper color, but it is death, both to the
giver and taker, if they give them money; nor is it less penal for any freeman to take
money from them, upon any account whatsoever: and it is also death for any of these slaves
(so they are called) to handle arms. Those of every division of the country are
distinguished by a peculiar mark; which it is capital for them to lay aside, to go out of
their bounds, or to talk with a slave of another jurisdiction; and the very attempt of an
escape is no less penal than an escape itself; it is death for any other slave to be
accessory to it; and if a freeman engages in it he is condemned to slavery. Those that
discover it are rewarded -if freemen, in money; and if slaves, with liberty, together with
a pardon for being accessory to it; that so they might find their account, rather in
repenting of their engaging in such a design, than in persisting in it.
"'These are their laws and rules in relation to robbery, and it is obvious that
they are as advantageous as they are mild and gentle; since vice is not only destroyed,
and men preserved, but they treated in such a manner as to make them see the necessity of
being honest, and of employing the rest of their lives in repairing the injuries they have
formerly done to society. Nor is there any hazard of their falling back to their old
customs: and so little do travellers apprehend mischief from them, that they generally
make use of them for guides, from one jurisdiction to another; for there is nothing left
them by which they can rob, or be the better for it, since, as they are disarmed, so the
very having of money is a sufficient conviction: and as they are certainly punished if
discovered, so they cannot hope to escape; for their habit being in all the parts of it
different from what is commonly worn, they cannot fly away, unless they would go naked,
and even then their cropped ear would betray them. The only danger to be feared from them
is their conspiring against the government: but those of one division and neighborhood can
do nothing to any purpose, unless a general conspiracy were laid among all the slaves of
the several jurisdictions, which cannot be done, since they cannot meet or talk together;
nor will any venture on a design where the concealment would be so dangerous and the
discovery so profitable. None are quite hopeless of recovering their freedom, since by
their obedience and patience, and by giving good grounds to believe that they will change
their manner of life for the future, they may expect at last to obtain their liberty: and
some are every year restored to it, upon the good character that is given of them.'
"When I had related all this, I added that I did not see why such a method might
not be followed with more advantage than could ever be expected from that severe justice
which the counsellor magnified so much. To this he answered that it could never take place
in England without endangering the whole nation. As he said this he shook his head, made
some grimaces, and held his peace, while all the company seemed of his opinion, except the
cardinal, who said that it was not easy to form a judgment of its success, since it was a
method that never yet had been tried.
"'But if,' said he, 'when the sentence of death was passed upon a thief, the
prince would reprieve him for a while, and make the experiment upon him, denying him the
privilege of a sanctuary; and then if it had a good effect upon him, it might take place;
and if it did not succeed, the worst would be, to execute the sentence on the condemned
persons at last. And I do not see,' added he, 'why it would be either unjust,
inconvenient, or at all dangerous, to admit of such a delay: in my opinion, the vagabonds
ought to be treated in the same manner; against whom, though we have made many laws, yet
we have not been able to gain our end.' When the cardinal had done, they all commended the
motion, though they had despised it when it came from me; but more particularly commended
what related to the vagabonds, because it was his own observation.
"I do not know whether it be worth while to tell what followed, for it was very
ridiculous; but I shall venture at it, for as it is not foreign to this matter, so some
good use may be made of it. There was a jester standing by, that counterfeited the fool so
naturally that he seemed to be really one. The jests which he offered were so cold and
dull that we laughed more at him than at them; yet sometimes he said, as it were by
chance, things that were not unpleasant; so as to justify the old proverb, 'That he who
throws the dice often, will sometimes have a lucky hit.' When one of the company had said
that I had taken care of the thieves, and the cardinal had taken care of the vagabonds, so
that there remained nothing but that some public provision might be made for the poor,
whom sickness or old age had disabled from labor, 'Leave that to me,' said the fool, 'and
I shall take care of them; for there is no sort of people whose sight I abhor more, having
been so often vexed with them, and with their sad complaints; but as dolefully soever as
they have told their tale, they could never prevail so far as to draw one penny from me:
for either I had no mind to give them anything, or when I had a mind to do it I had
nothing to give them: and they now know me so well that they will not lose their labor,
but let me pass without giving me any trouble, because they hope for nothing, no more in
faith than if I were a priest: but I would have a law made, for sending all these beggars
to monasteries, the men to the Benedictines to be made lay-brothers, and the women to be
nuns.'
"The cardinal smiled, and approved of it in jest; but the rest liked it in
earnest. There was a divine present, who though he was a grave, morose man, yet he was so
pleased with this reflection that was made on the priests and the monks, that he began to
play with the fool, and said to him, 'This will not deliver you from all beggars, except
you take care of us friars.'
"'That is done already,' answered the fool, 'for the cardinal has provided for
you, by what he proposed for restraining vagabonds, and setting them to work, for I know
no vagabonds like you.'
"This was well entertained by the whole company, who, looking at the cardinal,
perceived that he was not ill-pleased at it; only the friar himself was vexed, as may be
easily imagined, and fell into such a passion that he could not forbear railing at the
fool, and calling him knave, slanderer, backbiter, and son of perdition, and then cited
some dreadful threatenings out of the Scriptures against him. Now the jester thought he
was in his element, and laid about him freely.
"'Good friar,' said he, 'be not angry, for it is written, "In patience
possess your soul."'
"The friar answered (for I shall give you his own words), 'I am not angry, you
hangman; at least I do not sin in it, for the Psalmist says, "Be ye angry, and sin
not."'
"Upon this the cardinal admonished him gently, and wished him to govern his
passions.
"'No, my lord,' said he, 'I speak not but from a good zeal, which I ought to have;
for holy men have had a good zeal, as it is said, "The zeal of thy house hath eaten
me up;" and we sing in our church, that those, who mocked Elisha as he went up to the
house of God, felt the effects of his zeal; which that mocker, that rogue, that scoundrel,
will perhaps feel.'
"'You do this perhaps with a good intention,' said the cardinal; 'but in my
opinion it were wiser in you, and perhaps better for you, not to engage in so ridiculous a
contest with a fool.'
"'No, my lord,' answered he, 'that were not wisely done; for Solomon, the wisest
of men, said, "Answer a fool according to his folly;" which I now do, and show
him the ditch into which he will fall, if he is not aware of it; for if the many mockers
of Elisha, who was but one bald man, felt the effect of his zeal, what will become of one
mocker of so many friars, among whom there are so many bald men? We have likewise a bull,
by which all that jeer us are excommunicated.'
"When the cardinal saw that there was no end of this matter, he made a sign to the
fool to withdraw, turned the discourse another way, and soon after rose from the table,
and, dismissing us, went to hear causes.
"Thus, Mr. More, I have run out into a tedious story, of the length of which I had
been ashamed, if, as you earnestly begged it of me, I had not observed you to hearken to
it, as if you had no mind to lose any part of it. I might have contracted it, but I
resolved to give it to you at large, that you might observe how those that despised what I
had proposed, no sooner perceived that the cardinal did not dislike it, but presently
approved of it, fawned so on him, and flattered him to such a degree, that they in good
earnest applauded those things that he only liked in jest. And from hence you may gather,
how little courtiers would value either me or my counsels."
To this I answered: "You have done me a great kindness in this relation; for as
everything has been related by you, both wisely and pleasantly, so you have made me
imagine that I was in my own country, and grown young again, by recalling that good
cardinal to my thoughts, in whose family I was bred from my childhood: and though you are
upon other accounts very dear to me, yet you are the dearer, because you honor his memory
so much; but after all this I cannot change my opinion, for I still think that if you
could overcome that aversion which you have to the courts of princes, you might, by the
advice which it is in your power to give, do a great deal of good to mankind; and this is
the chief design that every good man ought to propose to himself in living; for your
friend Plato thinks that nations will be happy, when either philosophers become kings or
kings become philosophers, it is no wonder if we are so far from that happiness, while
philosophers will not think it their duty to assist kings with their councils.
"'They are not so base-minded,' said he, 'but that they would willingly do it:
many of them have already done it by their books, if those that are in power would but
hearken to their good advice.' But Plato judged right, that except kings themselves became
philosophers, they who from their childhood are corrupted with false notions would never
fall in entirely with the councils of philosophers, and this he himself found to be true
in the person of Dionysius.
"Do not you think that if I were about any king, proposing good laws to him, and
endeavoring to root out all the cursed seeds of evil that I found in him, I should either
be turned out of his court or at least be laughed at for my pains? For instance, what
could it signify if I were about the King of France, and were called into his Cabinet
Council, where several wise men, in his hearing, were proposing many expedients, as by
what arts and practices Milan may be kept, and Naples, that had so oft slipped out of
their hands, recovered; how the Venetians, and after them the rest of Italy, may be
subdued; and then how Flanders, Brabant, and all Burgundy, and some other kingdoms which
he has swallowed already in his designs, may be added to his empire. One proposes a league
with the Venetians, to be kept as long as he finds his account in it, and that he ought to
communicate councils with them, and give them some share of the spoil, till his success
makes him need or fear them less, and then it will be easily taken out of their hands.
Another proposes the hiring the Germans, and the securing the Switzers by pensions.
Another proposes the gaining the Emperor by money, which is omnipotent with him. Another
proposes a peace with the King of Arragon, and, in order to cement it, the yielding up the
King of Navarre's pretensions. Another thinks the Prince of Castile is to be wrought on,
by the hope of an alliance; and that some of his courtiers are to be gained to the French
faction by pensions. The hardest point of all is what to do with England: a treaty of
peace is to be set on foot, and if their alliance is not to be depended on, yet it is to
be made as firm as possible; and they are to be called friends, but suspected as enemies:
therefore the Scots are to be kept in readiness, to be let loose upon England on every
occasion: and some banished nobleman is to be supported underhand (for by the league it
cannot be done avowedly) who has a pretension to the crown, by which means that suspected
prince may be kept in awe.
"Now when things are in so great a fermentation, and so many gallant men are
joining councils, how to carry on the war, if so mean a man as I should stand up, and wish
them to change all their councils, to let Italy alone, and stay at home, since the Kingdom
of France was indeed greater than could be well governed by one man; that therefore he
ought not to think of adding others to it: and if after this, I should propose to them the
resolutions of the Achorians, a people that lie on the southeast of Utopia, who long ago
engaged in war, in order to add to the dominions of their prince another kingdom, to which
he had some pretensions by an ancient alliance. This they conquered, but found that the
trouble of keeping it was equal to that by which it was gained; that the conquered people
were always either in rebellion or exposed to foreign invasions, while they were obliged
to be incessantly at war, either for or against them, and consequently could never disband
their army; that in the meantime they were oppressed with taxes, their money went out of
the kingdom, their blood was spilt for the glory of their King, without procuring the
least advantage to the people, who received not the smallest benefit from it even in time
of peace; and that their manners being corrupted by a long war, robbery and murders
everywhere abounded, and their laws fell into contempt; while their King, distracted with
the care of two kingdoms, was the less able to apply his mind to the interests of either.
"When they saw this, and that there would be no end to these evils, they by joint
councils made an humble address to their King, desiring him to choose which of the two
kingdoms he had the greatest mind to keep, since he could not hold both; for they were too
great a people to be governed by a divided king, since no man would willingly have a groom
that should be in common between him and another. Upon which the good prince was forced to
quit his new kingdom to one of his friends (who was not long after dethroned), and to be
contented with his old one. To this I would add that after all those warlike attempts, the
vast confusions, and the consumption both of treasure and of people that must follow them;
perhaps upon some misfortune, they might be forced to throw up all at last; therefore it
seemed much more eligible that the King should improve his ancient kingdom all he could,
and make it flourish as much as possible; that he should love his people, and be beloved
of them; that he should live among them, govern them gently, and let other kingdoms alone,
since that which had fallen to his share was big enough, if not too big for him. Pray how
do you think would such a speech as this be heard?"
"I confess," said I, "I think not very well."
"But what," said he, "if I should sort with another kind of ministers,
whose chief contrivances and consultations were, by what art the prince's treasures might
be increased. Where one proposes raising the value of specie when the King's debts are
large, and lowering it when his revenues were to come in, that so he might both pay much
with a little, and in a little receive a great deal: another proposes a pretence of a war,
that money might be raised in order to carry it on, and that a peace be concluded as soon
as that was done; and this with such appearances of religion as might work on the people,
and make them impute it to the piety of their prince, and to his tenderness for the lives
of his subjects. A third offers some old musty laws, that have been antiquated by a long
disuse; and which, as they had been forgotten by all the subjects, so they had been also
broken by them; and proposes the levying the penalties of these laws, that as it would
bring in a vast treasure, so there might be a very good pretence for it, since it would
look like the executing a law, and the doing of justice. A fourth proposes the prohibiting
of many things under severe penalties, especially such as were against the interest of the
people, and then the dispensing with these prohibitions upon great compositions, to those
who might find their advantage in breaking them. This would serve two ends, both of them
acceptable to many; for as those whose avarice led them to transgress would be severely
fined, so the selling licenses dear would look as if a prince were tender of his people,
and would not easily, or at low rates, dispense with anything that might be against the
public good.
"Another proposes that the judges must be made sure, that they may declare always
in favor of the prerogative, that they must be often sent for to court, that the King may
hear them argue those points in which he is concerned; since how unjust soever any of his
pretensions may be, yet still some one or other of them, either out of contradiction to
others or the pride of singularity or to make their court, would find out some pretence or
other to give the King a fair color to carry the point: for if the judges but differ in
opinion, the clearest thing in the world is made by that means disputable, and truth being
once brought in question, the King may then take advantage to expound the law for his own
profit; while the judges that stand out will be brought over, either out of fear or
modesty; and they being thus gained, all of them may be sent to the bench to give sentence
boldly, as the King would have it; for fair pretences will never be wanting when sentence
is to be given in the prince's favor. It will either be said that equity lies on his side,
or some words in the law will be found sounding that way, or some forced sense will be put
on them; and when all other things fail, the King's undoubted prerogative will be
pretended, as that which is above all law; and to which a religious judge ought to have a
special regard.
"Thus all consent to that maxim of Crassus, that a prince cannot have treasure
enough, since he must maintain his armies out of it: that a king, even though he would,
can do nothing unjustly; that all property is in him, not excepting the very persons of
his subjects: and that no man has any other property, but that which the King out of his
goodness thinks fit to leave him. And they think it is the prince's interest, that there
be as little of this left as may be, as if it were his advantage that his people should
have neither riches nor liberty; since these things make them less easy and less willing
to submit to a cruel and unjust government; whereas necessity and poverty blunt them, make
them patient, beat them down, and break that height of spirit, that might otherwise
dispose them to rebel. Now what if after all these propositions were made, I should rise
up and assert, that such councils were both unbecoming a king, and mischievous to him: and
that not only his honor but his safety consisted more in his people's wealth, than in his
own; if I should show that they choose a king for their own sake, and not for his; that by
his care and endeavors they may be both easy and safe; and that therefore a prince ought
to take more care of his people's happiness than of his own, as a shepherd is to take more
care of his flock than of himself.
"It is also certain that they are much mistaken that think the poverty of a nation
is a means of the public safety. Who quarrel more than beggars? Who does more earnestly
long for a change, than he that is uneasy in his present circumstances? And who run to
create confusions with so desperate a boldness, as those who have nothing to lose hope to
gain by them? If a king should fall under such contempt or envy, that he could not keep
his subjects in their duty, but by oppression and illusage, and by rendering them poor and
miserable, it were certainly better for him to quit his kingdom, than to retain it by such
methods, as makes him while he keeps the name of authority, lose the majesty due to it.
Nor is it so becoming the dignity of a king to reign over beggars, as over rich and happy
subjects. And therefore Fabricius, a man of a noble and exalted temper, said, he would
rather govern rich men than be rich himself; since for one man to abound in wealth and
pleasure, when all about him are mourning and groaning, is to a gaoler and not a king. He
is an unskilful physician, that cannot cure one disease without casting his patient into
another: so he that can find no other way for correcting the errors of his people, but by
taking from them the conveniences of life, shows that he knows not what it is to govern a
free nation. He himself ought rather to shake off his sloth, or to lay down his pride; for
the contempt or hatred that his people have for him, takes its rise from the vices in
himself. Let him live upon what belongs to him, without wronging others, and accommodate
his expense to his revenue. Let him punish crimes, and by his wise conduct let him
endeavor to prevent them, rather than be severe when he has suffered them to be too
common: let him not rashly revive laws that are abrogated by disuse, especially if they
have been long forgotten, and never wanted; and let him never take any penalty for the
breach of them, to which a judge would not give way in a private man, but would look on
him as a crafty and unjust person for pretending to it.
"To these things I would add that law among the Macarians, a people that live not
far from Utopia, by which their King, on the day on which he begins to reign, is tied by
an oath confirmed by solemn sacrifices, never to have at once above 1,000 pounds of gold
in his treasures, or so much silver as is equal to that in value. This law, they tell us,
was made by an excellent king, who had more regard to the riches of his country than to
his own wealth, and therefore provided against the heaping up of so much treasure as might
impoverish the people. He thought that a moderate sum might be sufficient for any
accident, if either the King had occasion for it against rebels, or the kingdom against
the invasion of an enemy; but that it was not enough to encourage a prince to invade other
men's rights, a circumstance that was the chief cause of his making that law. He also
thought that it was a good provision for that free circulation of money, so necessary for
the course of commerce and exchange: and when a king must distribute all those
extraordinary accessions that increase treasure beyond the due pitch, it makes him less
disposed to oppress his subjects. Such a king as this will be the terror of ill men, and
will be beloved by all the good.
"If, I say, I should talk of these or such like things, to men that had taken
their bias another way, how deaf would they be to all I could say?"
"No doubt, very deaf," answered I; "and no wonder, for one is never to
offer at propositions or advice that we are certain will not be entertained. Discourses so
much out of the road could not avail anything, nor have any effect on men whose minds were
prepossessed with different sentiments. This philosophical way of speculation is not
unpleasant among friends in a free conversation, but there is no room for it in the courts
of princes where great affairs are carried on by authority."
"That is what I was saying," replied he, "that there is no room for
philosophy in the courts of princes."
"Yes, there is," said I, "but not for this speculative philosophy that
makes everything to be alike fitting at all times: but there is another philosophy that is
more pliable, that knows its proper scene, accommodates itself to it, and teaches a man
with propriety and decency to act that part which has fallen to his share. If when one of
Plautus's comedies is upon the stage and a company of servants are acting their parts, you
should come out in the garb of a philosopher, and repeat out of 'Octavia,' a discourse of
Seneca's to Nero, would it not be better for you to say nothing than by mixing things of
such different natures to make an impertinent tragi-comedy? For you spoil and corrupt the
play that is in hand when you mix with it things of an opposite nature, even though they
are much better. Therefore go through with the play that is acting, the best you can, and
do not confound it because another that is pleasanter comes into your thoughts. It is even
so in a commonwealth and in the councils of princes; if ill opinions cannot be quite
rooted out, and you cannot cure some received vice according to your wishes, you must not
therefore abandon the commonwealth; for the same reasons you should not forsake the ship
in a storm because you cannot command the winds. You are not obliged to assault people
with discourses that are out of their road, when you see that their received notions must
prevent your making an impression upon them. You ought rather to cast about and to manage
things with all the dexterity in your power, so that if you are not able to make them go
well they may be as little ill as possible; for except all men were good everything cannot
be right, and that is a blessing that I do not at present hope to see."
"According to your arguments," answered he, "all that I could be able to
do would be to preserve myself from being mad while I endeavored to cure the madness of
others; for if I speak truth, I must repeat what I have said to you; and as for lying,
whether a philosopher can do it or not, I cannot tell; I am sure I cannot do it. But
though these discourses may be uneasy and ungrateful to them, I do not see why they should
seem foolish or extravagant: indeed if I should either propose such things as Plato has
contrived in his commonwealth, or as the Utopians practise in theirs, though they might
seem better, as certainly they are, yet they are so different from our establishment,
which is founded on property, there being no such thing among them, that I could not
expect that it would have any effect on them; but such discourses as mine, which only call
past evils to mind and give warning of what may follow, have nothing in them that is so
absurd that they may not be used at any time, for they can only be unpleasant to those who
are resolved to run headlong the contrary way; and if we must let alone everything as
absurd or extravagant which by reason of the wicked lives of many may seem uncouth, we
must, even among Christians, give over pressing the greatest part of those things that
Christ hath taught us, though He has commanded us not to conceal them, but to proclaim on
the house-tops that which he taught in secret.
"The greatest parts of his precepts are more opposite to the lives of the men of
this age than any part of my discourse has been; but the preachers seemed to have learned
that craft to which you advise me, for they observing that the world would not willingly
suit their lives to the rules that Christ has given, have fitted his doctrine as if it had
been a leaden rule, to their lives, that so some way or other they might agree with one
another. But I see no other effect of this compliance except it be that men become more
secure in their wickedness by it. And this is all the success that I can have in a court,
for I must always differ from the rest, and then I shall signify nothing; or if I agree
with them, I shall then only help forward their madness. I do not comprehend what you mean
by your casting about, or by the bending and handling things so dexterously, that if they
go not well they may go as little ill as may be; for in courts they will not bear with a
man's holding his peace or conniving at what others do. A man must barefacedly approve of
the worst counsels, and consent to the blackest designs: so that he would pass for a spy,
or possibly for a traitor, that did but coldly approve of such wicked practices: and
therefore when a man is engaged in such a society, he will be so far from being able to
mend matters by his casting about, as you call it, that he will find no occasions of doing
any good: the ill company will sooner corrupt him than be the better for him: or if
notwithstanding all their ill company, he still remains steady and innocent, yet their
follies and knavery will be imputed to him; and by mixing counsels with them, he must bear
his share of all the blame that belongs wholly to others.
"It was no ill simile by which Plato set forth the unreasonableness of a
philosopher's meddling with government. If a man, says he, was to see a great company run
out every day into the rain, and take delight in being wet; if he knew that it would be to
no purpose for him to go and persuade them to return to their houses, in order to avoid
the storm, and that all that could be expected by his going to speak to them would be that
he himself should be as wet as they, it would be best for him to keep within doors; and
since he had not influence enough to correct other people's folly, to take care to
preserve himself.
"Though to speak plainly my real sentiments, I must freely own that as long as
there is any property, and while money is the standard of all other things, I cannot think
that a nation can be governed either justly or happily: not justly, because the best
things will fall to the share of the worst men; nor happily, because all things will be
divided among a few (and even these are not in all respects happy), the rest being left to
be absolutely miserable. Therefore when I reflect on the wise and good constitution of the
Utopians -among whom all things are so well governed, and with so few laws; where virtue
hath its due reward, and yet there is such an equality, that every man lives in plenty
-when I compare with them so many other nations that are still making new laws, and yet
can never bring their constitution to a right regulation, where notwithstanding everyone
has his property; yet all the laws that they can invent have not the power either to
obtain or preserve it, or even to enable men certainly to distinguish what is their own
from what is another's; of which the many lawsuits that every day break out, and are
eternally depending, give too plain a demonstration; when, I say, I balance all these
things in my thoughts, I grow more favorable to Plato, and do not wonder that he resolved
not to make any laws for such as would not submit to a community of all things: for so
wise a man could not but foresee that the setting all upon a level was the only way to
make a nation happy, which cannot be obtained so long as there is property: for when every
man draws to himself all that he can compass, by one title or another, it must needs
follow, that how plentiful soever a nation may be, yet a few dividing the wealth of it
among themselves, the rest must fall into indigence.
"So that there will be two sorts of people among them, who deserve that their
fortunes should be interchanged; the former useless, but wicked and ravenous; and the
latter, who by their constant industry serve the public more than themselves, sincere and
modest men. From whence I am persuaded, that till property is taken away there can be no
equitable or just distribution of things, nor can the world be happily governed: for as
long as that is maintained, the greatest and the far best part of mankind will be still
oppressed with a load of cares and anxieties. I confess without taking it quite away,
those pressures that lie on a great part of mankind may be made lighter; but they can
never be quite removed. For if laws were made to determine at how great an extent in soil,
and at how much money every man must stop, to limit the prince that he might not grow too
great, and to restrain the people that they might not become too insolent, and that none
might factiously aspire to public employments; which ought neither to be sold, nor made
burdensome by a great expense; since otherwise those that serve in them would be tempted
to reimburse themselves by cheats and violence, and it would become necessary to find out
rich men for undergoing those employments which ought rather to be trusted to the wise
-these laws, I say, might have such effects, as good diet and care might have on a sick
man, whose recovery is desperate: they might allay and mitigate the disease, but it could
never be quite healed, nor the body politic be brought again to a good habit, as long as
property remains; and it will fall out as in a complication of diseases, that by applying
a remedy to one sore, you will provoke another; and that which removes the one ill symptom
produces others, while the strengthening one part of the body weakens the rest."
"On the contrary," answered I, "it seems to me that men cannot live
conveniently where all things are common: how can there be any plenty, where every man
will excuse himself from labor? For as the hope of gain doth not excite him, so the
confidence that he has in other men's industry may make him slothful: if people come to be
pinched with want, and yet cannot dispose of anything as their own; what can follow upon
this but perpetual sedition and bloodshed, especially when the reverence and authority due
to magistrates fall to the ground? For I cannot imagine how that can be kept up among
those that are in all things equal to one another."
"I do not wonder," said he, "that it appears so to you, since you have
no notion, or at least no right one, of such a constitution: but if you had been in Utopia
with me, and had seen their laws and rules, as I did, for the space of five years, in
which I lived among them; and during which time I was so delighted with them, that indeed
I should never have left them, if it had not been to make the discovery of that new world
to the Europeans; you would then confess that you had never seen a people so well
constituted as they."
"You will not easily persuade me," said Peter, "that any nation in that
new world is better governed than those among us. For as our understandings are not worse
than theirs, so our government, if I mistake not, being more ancient, a long practice has
helped us to find out many conveniences of life: and some happy chances have discovered
other things to us, which no man's understanding could ever have invented."
"As for the antiquity, either of their government or of ours," said he,
"you cannot pass a true judgment of it unless you had read their histories; for if
they are to be believed, they had towns among them before these parts were so much as
inhabited. And as for those discoveries, that have been either hit on by chance, or made
by ingenious men, these might have happened there as well as here. I do not deny but we
are more ingenious than they are, but they exceed us much in industry and application.
They knew little concerning us before our arrival among them; they call us all by a
general name of the nations that lie beyond the equinoctial line; for their chronicle
mentions a shipwreck that was made on their coast 1,200 years ago; and that some Romans
and Egyptians that were in the ship, getting safe ashore, spent the rest of their days
among them; and such was their ingenuity, that from this single opportunity they drew the
advantage of learning from those unlooked-for guests, and acquired all the useful arts
that were then among the Romans, and which were known to these shipwrecked men: and by the
hints that they gave them, they themselves found out even some of those arts which they
could not fully explain; so happily did they improve that accident, of having some of our
people cast upon their shore.
"But if such an accident has at any time brought any from thence into Europe, we
have been so far from improving it, that we do not so much as remember it; as in
after-times perhaps it will be forgot by our people that I was ever there. For though they
from one such accident made themselves masters of all the good inventions that were among
us; yet I believe it would be long before we should learn or put in practice any of the
good institutions that are among them. And this is the true cause of their being better
governed, and living happier than we, though we come not short of them in point of
understanding or outward advantages."
Upon this I said to him: "I earnestly beg you would describe that island very
particularly to us. Be not too short, but set out in order all things relating to their
soil, their rivers, their towns, their people, their manners, constitution, laws, and, in
a word, all that you imagine we desire to know. And you may well imagine that we desire to
know everything concerning them, of which we are hitherto ignorant."
"I will do it very willingly," said he, "for I have digested the whole
matter carefully; but it will take up some time."
"Let us go then," said I, "first and dine, and then we shall have
leisure enough."
He consented. We went in and dined, and after dinner came back and sat down in the same
place. I ordered my servants to take care that none might come and interrupt us. And both
Peter and I desired Raphael to be as good as his word. When he saw that we were very
intent upon it, he paused a little to recollect himself, and began in this manner:
BOOK II
THE island of Utopia is in the middle 200 miles broad, and holds almost at the same
breadth over a great part of it; but it grows narrower toward both ends. Its figure is not
unlike a crescent: between its horns, the sea comes in eleven miles broad, and spreads
itself into a great bay, which is environed with land to the compass of about 500 miles,
and is well secured from winds. In this bay there is no great current; the whole coast is,
as it were, one continued harbor, which gives all that live in the island great
convenience for mutual commerce; but the entry into the bay, occasioned by rocks on the
one hand, and shallows on the other, is very dangerous. In the middle of it there is one
single rock which appears above water, and may therefore be easily avoided, and on the top
of it there is a tower in which a garrison is kept; the other rocks lie under water, and
are very dangerous. The channel is known only to the natives, so that if any stranger
should enter into the bay, without one of their pilots, he would run great danger of
shipwreck; for even they themselves could not pass it safe, if some marks that are on the
coast did not direct their way; and if these should be but a little shifted, any fleet
that might come against them, how great soever it were, would be certainly lost.
On the other side of the island there are likewise many harbors; and the coast is so
fortified, both by nature and art, that a small number of men can hinder the descent of a
great army. But they report (and there remain good marks of it to make it credible) that
this was no island at first, but a part of the continent. Utopus that conquered it (whose
name it still carries, for Abraxa was its first name) brought the rude and uncivilized
inhabitants into such a good government, and to that measure of politeness, that they now
far excel all the rest of mankind; having soon subdued them, he designed to separate them
from the continent, and to bring the sea quite round them. To accomplish this, he ordered
a deep channel to be dug fifteen miles long; and that the natives might not think he
treated them like slaves, he not only forced the inhabitants, but also his own soldiers,
to labor in carrying it on. As he set a vast number of men to work, he beyond all men's
expectations brought it to a speedy conclusion. And his neighbors who at first laughed at
the folly of the undertaking, no sooner saw it brought to perfection than they were struck
with admiration and terror.
There are fifty-four cities in the island, all large and well built: the manners,
customs, and laws of which are the same, and they are all contrived as near in the same
manner as the ground on which they stand will allow. The nearest lie at least twenty-four
miles distance from one another, and the most remote are not so far distant but that a man
can go on foot in one day from it to that which lies next it. Every city sends three of
its wisest Senators once a year to Amaurot, to consult about their common concerns; for
that is the chief town of the island, being situated near the centre of it, so that it is
the most convenient place for their assemblies. The jurisdiction of every city extends at
least twenty miles: and where the towns lie wider, they have much more ground: no town
desires to enlarge its bounds, for the people consider themselves rather as tenants than
landlords. They have built over all the country, farmhouses for husbandmen, which are well
contrived, and are furnished with all things necessary for country labor. Inhabitants are
sent by turns from the cities to dwell in them; no country family has fewer than forty men
and women in it, besides two slaves. There is a master and a mistress set over every
family; and over thirty families there is a magistrate.
Every year twenty of this family come back to the town, after they have stayed two
years in the country; and in their room there are other twenty sent from the town, that
they may learn country work from those that have been already one year in the country, as
they must teach those that come to them the next from the town. By this means such as
dwell in those country farms are never ignorant of agriculture, and so commit no errors,
which might otherwise be fatal, and bring them under a scarcity of corn. But though there
is every year such a shifting of the husbandmen, to prevent any man being forced against
his will to follow that hard course of life too long, yet many among them take such
pleasure in it that they desire leave to continue in it many years. These husbandmen till
the ground, breed cattle, hew wood, and convey it to the towns, either by land or water,
as is most convenient. They breed an infinite multitude of chickens in a very curious
manner; for the hens do not sit and hatch them, but vast numbers of eggs are laid in a
gentle and equal heat, in order to be hatched, and they are no sooner out of the shell,
and able to stir about, but they seem to consider those that feed them as their mothers,
and follow them as other chickens do the hen that hatched them.
They breed very few horses, but those they have are full of mettle, and are kept only
for exercising their youth in the art of sitting and riding them; for they do not put them
to any work, either of ploughing or carriage, in which they employ oxen; for though their
horses are stronger, yet they find oxen can hold out longer; and as they are not subject
to so many diseases, so they are kept upon a less charge, and with less trouble; and even
when they are so worn out, that they are no more fit for labor, they are good meat at
last. They sow no corn, but that which is to be their bread; for they drink either wine,
cider, or perry, and often water, sometimes boiled with honey or licorice, with which they
abound; and though they know exactly how much corn will serve every town, and all that
tract of country which belongs to it, yet they sow much more, and breed more cattle than
are necessary for their consumption; and they give that overplus of which they make no use
to their neighbors. When they want anything in the country which it does not produce, they
fetch that from the town, without carrying anything in exchange for it. And the
magistrates of the town take care to see it given them; for they meet generally in the
town once a month, upon a festival day. When the time of harvest comes, the magistrates in
the country send to those in the towns, and let them know how many hands they will need
for reaping the harvest; and the number they call for being sent to them, they commonly
despatch it all in one day.
Of Their Towns, Particularly of Amaurot
HE that knows one of their towns knows them all, they are so like one another, except w
here the situation makes some difference. I shall therefore describe one of them; and none
is so proper as Amaurot; for as none is more eminent, all the rest yielding in precedence
to this, because it is the seat of their Supreme Council, so there was none of them better
known to me, I having lived five years altogether in it.
It lies upon the side of a hill, or rather a rising ground: its figure is almost
square, for from the one side of it, which shoots up almost to the top of the hill, it
runs down in a descent for two miles to the river Anider; but it is a little broader the
other way that runs along by the bank of that river. The Anider rises about eighty miles
above Amaurot, in a small spring at first, but other brooks falling into it, of which two
are more considerable than the rest. As it runs by Amaurot, it is grown half a mile broad;
but it still grows larger and larger, till after sixty miles course below it, it is lost
in the ocean, between the town and the sea, and for some miles above the town, it ebbs and
flows every six hours, with a strong current. The tide comes up for about thirty miles so
full that there is nothing but salt water in the river, the fresh water being driven back
with its force; and above that, for some miles, the water is brackish; but a little
higher, as it runs by the town, it is quite fresh; and when the tide ebbs, it continues
fresh all along to the sea. There is a bridge cast over the river, not of timber, but of
fair stone, consisting of many stately arches; it lies at that part of the town which is
farthest from the sea, so that ships without any hinderance lie all along the side of the
town.
There is likewise another river that runs by it, which, though it is not great, yet it
runs pleasantly, for it rises out of the same hill on which the town stands, and so runs
down through it, and falls into the Anider. The inhabitants have fortified the
fountain-head of this river, which springs a little without the town; so that if they
should happen to be besieged, the enemy might not be able to stop or divert the course of
the water, nor poison it; from thence it is carried in earthen pipes to the lower streets;
and for those places of the town to which the water of that shall river cannot be
conveyed, they have great cisterns for receiving the rain-water, which supplies the want
of the other. The town is cormpassed with a high and thick wall, in which there are many
towers and forts; there is also a broad and deep dry ditch, set thick with thorns, cast
round three sides of the town, and the river is instead of a ditch on the fourth side. The
streets are very convenient for all carriage, and are well sheltered from the winds. Their
buildings are good, and are so uniform that a whole side of a street looks like one house.
The streets are twenty feet broad; there lie gardens behind all their houses; these are
large but enclosed with buildings that on all hands face the streets; so that every house
has both a door to the street, and a back door to the garden. Their doors have all two
leaves, which, as they are easily opened, so they shut of their own accord; and there
being no property among them, every man may freely enter into any house whatsoever. At
every ten years' end they shift their houses by lots.
They cultivate their gardens with great care, so that they have vines, fruits, herbs,
and flowers in them; and all is so well ordered, and so finely kept, that I never saw
gardens anywhere that were both so fruitful and so beautiful as theirs. And this humor of
ordering their gardens so well is not only kept up by the pleasure they find in it, but
also by an emulation between the inhabitants of the several streets, who vie with each
other; and there is indeed nothing belonging to the whole town that is both more useful
and more pleasant. So that he who founded the town seems to have taken care of nothing
more than of their gardens; for they say, the whole scheme of the town was designed at
first by Utopus, but he left all that belonged to the ornament and improvement of it to be
added by those that should come after him, that being too much for one man to bring to
perfection. Their records, that contain the history of their town and State, are preserved
with an exact care, and run backward 1,760 years. From these it appears that their houses
were at first low and mean, like cottages, made of any sort of timber, and were built with
mud walls and thatched with straw. But now their houses are three stories high: the fronts
of them are faced with stone, plastering, or brick; and between the facings of their walls
they throw in their rubbish. Their roofs are flat, and on them they lay a sort of plaster,
which costs very little, and yet is so tempered that it is not apt to take fire, and yet
resists the weather more than lead. They have great quantities of glass among them, with
which they glaze their windows. They use also in their windows a thin linen cloth, that is
so oiled or gummed that it both keeps out the wind and gives free admission to the light.
Of Their Magistrates
THIRTY families choose every year a magistrate, who was anciently called the
syphogrant, but is now called the philarch; and over every ten syphogrants, with the
families subject to them, there is another magistrate, who was anciently called the
tranibor, but of late the archphilarch. All the syphogrants, who are in number 200, choose
the Prince out of a list of four, who are named by the people of the four divisions of the
city; but they take an oath before they proceed to an election, that they will choose him
whom they think most fit for the office. They give their voices secretly, so that it is
not known for whom everyone gives his suffrage. The Prince is for life, unless he is
removed upon suspicion of some design to enslave the people. The tranibors are new-chosen
every year, but yet they are for the most part continued. All their other magistrates are
only annual. The tranibors meet every third day, and oftener if necessary, and consult
with the prince, either concerning the affairs of the State in general or such private
differences as may arise sometimes among the people; though that falls out but seldom.
There are always two syphogrants called into the council-chamber, and these are changed
every day. It is a fundamental rule of their government that no conclusion can be made in
anything that relates to the public till it has been first debated three several days in
their Council. It is death for any to meet and consult concerning the State, unless it be
either in their ordinary Council, or in the assembly of the whole body of the people.
These things have been so provided among them, that the prince and the tranibors may
not conspire together to change the government and enslave the people; and therefore when
anything of great importance is set on foot, it is sent to the syphogrants; who after they
have communicated it to the families that belong to their divisions, and have considered
it among themselves, make report to the Senate; and upon great occasions, the matter is
referred to the Council of the whole island. One rule observed in their Council, is, never
to debate a thing on the same day in which it is first proposed; for that is always
referred to the next meeting, that so men may not rashly, and in the heat of discourse,
engage themselves too soon, which might bias them so much, that instead of consulting the
good of the public, they might rather study to support their first opinions, and by a
perverse and preposterous sort of shame, hazard their country rather than endanger their
own reputation, or venture the being suspected to have wanted foresight in the expedients
that they at first proposed. And therefore to prevent this, they take care that they may
rather be deliberate than sudden in their motions.
Of Their Trades, and Manner of Life
AGRICULTURE is that which is so universally understood among them that no person,
either man or woman, is ignorant of it; they are instructed in it from their childhood,
partly by what they learn at school and partly by practice; they being led out often into
the fields, about the town, where they not only see others at work, but are likewise
exercised in it themselves. Besides agriculture, which is so common to them all, every man
has some peculiar trade to which he applies himself, such as the manufacture of wool, or
flax, masonry, smith's work, or carpenter's work; for there is no sort of trade that is
not in great esteem among them. Throughout the island they wear the same sort of clothes
without any other distinction, except what is necessary to distinguish the two sexes, and
the married and unmarried. The fashion never alters; and as it is neither disagreeable nor
uneasy, so it is suited to the climate, and calculated both for their summers and winters.
Every family makes their own clothes; but all among them, women as well as men, learn one
or other of the trades formerly mentioned. Women, for the most part, deal in wool and
flax, which suit best with their weakness, leaving the ruder trades to the men. The same
trade generally passes down from father to son, inclinations often following descent; but
if any man's genius lies another way, he is by adoption translated into a family that
deals in the trade to which he is inclined: and when that is to be done, care is taken not
only by his father, but by the magistrate, that he may be put to a discreet and good man.
And if after a person has learned one trade, he desires to acquire another, that is also
allowed, and is managed in the same manner as the former. When he has learned both, he
follows that which he likes best, unless the public has more occasion for the other.
The chief, and almost the only business of the syphogrants, is to take care that no man
may live idle, but that every one may follow his trade diligently: yet they do not wear
themselves out with perpetual toil, from morning to night, as if they were beasts of
burden, which, as it is indeed a heavy slavery, so it is everywhere the common course of
life among all mechanics except the Utopians; but they dividing the day and night into
twenty-four hours, appoint six of these for work; three of which are before dinner, and
three after. They then sup, and at eight o'clock, counting from noon, go to bed and sleep
eight hours. The rest of their time besides that taken up in work, eating and sleeping, is
left to every man's discretion; yet they are not to abuse that interval to luxury and
idleness, but must employ it in some proper exercise according to their various
inclinations, which is for the most part reading. It is ordinary to have public lectures
every morning before daybreak; at which none are obliged to appear but those who are
marked out for literature; yet a great many, both men and women of all ranks, go to hear
lectures of one sort of other, according to their inclinations. But if others, that are
not made for contemplation, choose rather to employ themselves at that time in their
trades, as many of them do, they are not hindered, but are rather commended, as men that
take care to serve their country. After supper, they spend an hour in some diversion, in
summer in their gardens, and in winter in the halls where they eat; where they entertain
each other, either with music or discourse. They do not so much as know dice, or any such
foolish and mischievous games: they have, however, two sorts of games not unlike our
chess; the one is between several numbers, in which one number, as it were, consumes
another: the other resembles a battle between the virtues and the vices, in which the
enmity in the vices among themselves, and their agreement against virtue, is not
unpleasantly represented; together with the special oppositions between the particular
virtues and vices; as also the methods by which vice either openly assaults or secretly
undermines virtue, and virtue on the other hand resists it. But the time appointed for
labor is to be narrowly examined, otherwise you may imagine, that since there are only six
hours appointed for work, they may fall under a scarcity of necessary provisions. But it
is so far from being true, that this time is not sufficient for supplying them with plenty
of all things, either necessary or convenient, that it is rather too much; and this you
will easily apprehend, if you consider how great a part of all other nations is quite
idle.
First, women generally do little, who are the half of mankind; and if some few women
are diligent, their husbands are idle: then consider the great company of idle priests,
and of those that are called religious men; add to these all rich men, chiefly those that
have estates in land, who are called noblemen and gentlemen, together with their families,
made up of idle persons, that are kept more for show than use; add to these, all those
strong and lusty beggars, that go about pretending some disease, in excuse for their
begging; and upon the whole account you will find that the number of those by whose labors
mankind is supplied, is much less than you perhaps imagined. Then consider how few of
those that work are employed in labors that are of real service; for we who measure all
things by money, give rise to many trades that are both vain and superfluous, and serve
only to support riot and luxury. For if those who work were employed only in such things
as the conveniences of life require, there would be such an abundance of them that the
prices of them would so sink that tradesmen could not be maintained by their gains; if all
those who labor about useless things were set to more profitable employments, and if all
they that languish out their lives in sloth and idleness, every one of whom consumes as
much as any two of the men that are at work, were forced to labor, you may easily imagine
that a small proportion of time would serve for doing all that is either necessary,
profitable, or pleasant to mankind, especially while pleasure is kept within its due
bounds.
This appears very plainly in Utopia, for there, in a great city, and in all the
territory that lies round it, you can scarce find 500, either men or women, by their age
and strength, are capable of labor, that are not engaged in it; even the syphogrants,
though excused by the law, yet do not excuse themselves, but work, that by their examples
they may excite the industry of the rest of the people. The like exemption is allowed to
those who, being recommended to the people by the priests, are by the secret suffrages of
the syphogrants privileged from labor, that they may apply themselves wholly to study; and
if any of these fall short of those hopes that they seemed at first to give, they are
obliged to return to work. And sometimes a mechanic, that so employs his leisure hours, as
to make a considerable advancement in learning, is eased from being a tradesman, and
ranked among their learned men. Out of these they choose their ambassadors, their priests,
their tranibors, and the prince himself, anciently called their Barzenes, but is called of
late their Ademus.
And thus from the great numbers among them that are neither suffered to be idle, nor to
be employed in any fruitless labor, you may easily make the estimate how much may be done
in those few hours in which they are obliged to labor. But besides all that has been
already said, it is to be considered that the needful arts among them are managed with
less labor than anywhere else. The building or the repairing of houses among us employ
many hands, because often a thriftless heir suffers a house that his father built to fall
into decay, so that his successor must, at a great cost, repair that which he might have
kept up with a small charge: it frequently happens that the same house which one person
built at a vast expense is neglected by another, who thinks he has a more delicate sense
of the beauties of architecture; and he suffering it to fall to ruin, builds another at no
less charge. But among the Utopians all things are so regulated that men very seldom build
upon a new piece of ground; and are not only very quick in repairing their houses, but
show their foresight in preventing their decay: so that their buildlngs are preserved very
long, with but little labor, and thus the builders to whom that care belongs are often
without employment, except the hewing of timber and the squaring of stones, that the
materials may be in readiness for raising a building very suddenly when there is any
occasion for it.
As to their clothes, observe how little work is spent in them: while they are at labor,
they are clothed with leather and skins. cast carelessly about them, which will last seven
years; and when they appear in public they put on an upper garment, which hides the other;
and these are all of one color, and that is the natural color of the wool. As they need
less woollen cloth than is used anywhere else, so that which they make use of is much less
costly. They use linen cloth more; but that is prepared with less labor, and they value
cloth only by the whiteness of the linen or the cleanness of the wool, without much regard
to the fineness of the thread: while in other places, four or five upper garments of
woollen cloth, of different colors, and as many vests of silk, will scarce serve one man;
and while those that are nicer think ten are too few, every man there is content with one,
which very often serves him two years. Nor is there anything that can tempt a man to
desire more; for if he had them, he would neither be the warmer nor would he make one jot
the better appearance for it. And thus, since they are all employed in some useful labor,
and since they content themselves with fewer things, it falls out that there is a great
abundance of all things among them: so that it frequently happens that, for want of other
work, vast numbers are sent out to mend the highways. But when no public undertaking is to
be performed, the hours of working are lessened. The magistrates never engage the people
in unnecessary labor, since the chief end of the constitution is to regulate labor by the
necessities of the public, and to allow all the people as much time as is necessary for
the improvement of their minds, in which they think the happiness of life consists.
Of Their Traffic
BUT it is now time to explain to you the mutual intercourse of this people, their
commerce, and the rules by which all things are distributed among them.
As their cities are composed of families, so their families are made up of those that
are nearly related to one another. Their women, when they grow up, are married out; but
all the males, both children and grandchildren, live still in the same house, in great
obedience to their common parent, unless age has weakened his understanding: and in that
case, he that is next to him in age comes in his room. But lest any city should become
either too great, or by any accident be dispeopled, provision is made that none of their
cities may contain above 6,000 families, besides those of the country round it. No family
may have less than ten and more than sixteen persons in it; but there can be no determined
number for the children under age. This rule is easily observed, by removing some of the
children of a more fruitful couple to any other family that does not abound so much in
them.
By the same rule, they supply cities that do not increase so fast, from others that
breed faster; and if there is any increase over the whole island, then they draw out a
number of their citizens out of the several towns, and send them over to the neighboring
continent; where, if they find that the inhabitants have more soil than they can well
cultivate, they fix a colony, taking the inhabitants into their society, if they are
willing to live with them; and where they do that of their own accord, they quickly enter
into their method of life, and conform to their rules, and this proves a happiness to both
nations; for according to their constitution, such care is taken of the soil that it
becomes fruitful enough for both, though it might be otherwise too narrow and barren for
any one of them. But if the natives refuse to conform themselves to their laws, they drive
them out of those bounds which they mark out for themselves, and use force if they resist.
For they account it a very just cause of war, for a nation to hinder others from
possessing a part of that soil of which they make no use, but which is suffered to lie
idle and uncultivated; since every man has by the law of nature a right to such a waste
portion of the earth as is necessary for his subsistence. If an accident has so lessened
the number of the inhabitants of any of their towns that it cannot be made up from the
other towns of the island, without diminishing them too much, which is said to have fallen
out but twice since they were first a people, when great numbers were carried off by the
plague, the loss is then supplied by recalling as many as are wanted from their colonies;
for they will abandon these, rather than suffer the towns in the island to sink too low.
But to return to their manner of living in society, the oldest man of every family, as
has been already said, is its governor. Wives serve their husbands, and children their
parents, and always the younger serves the elder. Every city is divided into four equal
parts, and in the middle of each there is a marketplace: what is brought thither, and
manufactured by the several families, is carried from thence to houses appointed for that
purpose, in which all things of a sort are laid by themselves; and thither every father
goes and takes whatsoever he or his family stand in need of, without either paying for it
or leaving anything in exchange. There is no reason for giving a denial to any person,
since there is such plenty of everything among them; and there is no danger of a man's
asking for more than he needs; they have no inducements to do this, since they are sure
that they shall always be supplied. It is the fear of want that makes any of the whole
race of animals either greedy or ravenous; but besides fear, there is in man a pride that
makes him fancy it a particular glory to excel others in pomp and excess. But by the laws
of the Utopians, there is no room for this. Near these markets there are others for all
sorts of provisions, where there are not only herbs, fruits, and bread, but also fish,
fowl, and cattle.
There are also, without their towns, places appointed near some running water, for
killing their beasts, and for washing away their filth, which is done by their slaves: for
they suffer none of their citizens to kill their cattle, because they think that pity and
good-nature, which are among the best of those affections that are born with us, are much
impaired by the butchering of animals: nor do they suffer anything that is foul or unclean
to be brought within their towns, lest the air should be infected by ill-smells which
might prejudice their health. In every street there are great halls that lie at an equal
distance from each other, distinguished by particular names. The syphogrants dwell in
those that are set over thirty families, fifteen lying on one side of it, and as many on
the other. In these halls they all meet and have their repasts. The stewards of every one
of them come to the market-place at an appointed hour; and according to the number of
those that belong to the hall, they carry home provisions. But they take more care of
their sick than of any others: these are lodged and provided for in public hospitals they
have belonging to every town four hospitals, that are built without their walls, and are
so large that they may pass for little towns: by this means, if they had ever such a
number of sick persons, they could lodge them conveniently, and at such a distance, that
such of them as are sick of infectious diseases may be kept so far from the rest that
there can be no danger of contagion. The hospitals are furnished and stored with all
things that are convenient for the ease and recovery of the sick; and those that are put
in them are looked after with such tender and watchful care, and are so constantly
attended by their skilful physicians, that as none is sent to them against their will, so
there is scarce one in a whole town that, if he should fall ill, would not choose rather
to go thither than lie sick at home.
After the steward of the hospitals has taken for the sick whatsoever the physician
prescribes, then the best things that are left in the market are distributed equally among
the halls, in proportion to their numbers, only, in the first place, they serve the
Prince, the chief priest, the tranibors, the ambassadors, and strangers, if there are any,
which indeed falls out but seldom, and for whom there are houses well furnished,
particularly appointed for their reception when they come among them. At the hours of
dinner and supper, the whole syphogranty being called together by sound of trumpet, they
meet and eat together, except only such as are in the hospitals or lie sick at home. Yet
after the halls are served, no man is hindered to carry provisions home from the
market-place; for they know that none does that but for some good reason; for though any
that will may eat at home, yet none does it willingly, since it is both ridiculous and
foolish for any to give themselves the trouble to make ready an ill dinner at home, when
there is a much more plentiful one made ready for him so near at hand. All the uneasy and
sordid services about these halls are performed by their slaves; but the dressing and
cooking their meat, and the ordering their tables, belong only to the women, all those of
every family taking it by turns. They sit at three or more tables, according to their
number; the men sit toward the wall, and the women sit on the other side, that if any of
them should be taken suddenly ill, which is no uncommon case among women with child, she
may, without disturbing the rest, rise and go to the nurses' room, who are there with the
sucking children, where there is always clean water at hand, and cradles in which they may
lay the young children, if there is occasion for it, and a fire that they may shift and
dress them before it.
Every child is nursed by its own mother, if death or sickness does not intervene; and
in that case the syphogrants' wives find out a nurse quickly, which is no hard matter; for
anyone that can do it offers herself cheerfully; for as they are much inclined to that
piece of mercy, so the child whom the nurse considers the nurse as its mother. All the
children under five years old sit among the nurses, the rest of the younger sort of both
sexes, till they are fit for marriage, either serve those that sit at table or, if they
are not strong enough for that, stand by them in great silence, and eat what is given
them; nor have they any other formality of dining. In the middle of the first table, which
stands across the upper end of the hall, sit the syphogrant and his wife; for that is the
chief and most conspicuous place: next to him sit two of the most ancient, for there go
always four to a mess. If there is a temple within that syphogranty, the priest and his
wife sit with the syphogrant ahove all the rest: next them there is a mixture of old and
young, who are so placed, that as the young are set near others, so they are mixed with
the more ancient; which they say was appointed on this account, that the gravity of the
old people, and the reverence that is due to them, might restrain the younger from all
indecent words and gestures. Dishes are not served up to the whole table at first, but the
best are first set before the old, whose seats are distinguished from the young, and after
them all the rest are served alike. The old men distribute to the younger any curious
meats that happen to be set before them, if there is not such an abundance of them that
the whole company may be served alike.
Thus old men are honored with a particular respect; yet all the rest fare as well as
they. Both dinner and supper are begun with some lecture of morality that is read to them;
but it is so short, that it is not tedious nor uneasy to them to hear it: from hence the
old men take occasion to entertain those about them with some useful and pleasant
enlargements; but they do not engross the whole discourse so to themselves, during their
meals, that the younger may not put in for a share: on the contrary, they engage them to
talk, that so they may in that free way of conversation find out the force of everyone's
spirit and observe his temper. They despatch their dinners quickly, but sit long at
supper; because they go to work after the one, and are to sleep after the other, during
which they think the stomach carries on the concoction more vigorously. They never sup
without music; and there is always fruit served up after meat; while they are at table,
some burn perfumes and sprinkle about fragrant ointments and sweet waters: in short, they
want nothing that may cheer up their spirits: they give themselves a large allowance that
way, and indulge themselves in all such pleasures as are attended with no inconvenience.
Thus do those that are in the towns live together; but in the country, where they live at
great distance, everyone eats at home, and no family wants any necessary sort of
provision, for it is from them that provisions are sent unto those that live in the towns.
Of the Travelling of the Utopians
IF any man has a mind to visit his friends that live in some other town, or desires to
travel and see the rest of the country, he obtains leave very easily from the syphogrant
and tranibors when there is no particular occasion for him at home: such as travel, carry
with them a passport from the Prince, which both certifies the license that is granted for
travelling, and limits the time of their return. They are furnished with a wagon, and a
slave who drives the oxen and looks after them; but unless there are women in the company,
the wagon is sent back at the end of the journey as a needless encumbrance. While they are
on the road, they carry no provisions with them; yet they want nothing, but are everywhere
treated as if they were at home. If they stay in any place longer than a night, everyone
follows his proper occupation, and is very well used by those of his own trade; but if any
man goes out of the city to which he belongs, without leave, and is found rambling without
a passport, he is severely treated, he is punished as a fugitive, and sent home
disgracefully; and if he falls again into the like fault, is condemned to slavery. If any
man has a mind to travel only over the precinct of his own city, he may freely do it, with
his father's permission and his wife's consent; but when he comes into any of the country
houses, if he expects to be entertained by them, he must labor with them and conform to
their rules: and if he does this, he may freely go over the whole precinct; being thus as
useful to the city to which he belongs, as if he were still within it. Thus you see that
there are no idle persons among them, nor pretences of excusing any from labor. There are
no taverns, no alehouses nor stews among them; nor any other occasions of corrupting each
other, of getting into corners, or forming themselves into parties: all men live in full
view, so that all are obliged, both to perform their ordinary tasks, and to employ
themselves well in their spare hours. And it is certain that a people thus ordered must
live in great abundance of all things; and these being equally distributed among them, no
man can want, or be obliged to beg.
In their great Council at Amaurot, to which there are three sent from every town once a
year, they examine what towns abound in provisions and what are under any scarcity, that
so the one may be furnished from the other; and this is done freely, without any sort of
exchange; for according to their plenty or scarcity they supply or are supplied from one
another; so that indeed the whole island is, as it were, one family. When they have thus
taken care of their whole country, and laid up stores for two years, which they do to
prevent the ill-consequences of an unfavorable season, they order an exportation of the
overplus, of corn, honey, wool, flax, wood, wax, tallow, leather, and cattle; which they
send out commonly in great quantities to other nations. They order a seventh part of all
these goods to be freely given to the poor of the countries to which they send them, and
sell the rest at moderate rates. And by this exchange, they not only bring back those few
things that they need at home (for indeed they scarce need anything but iron), but
likewise a great deal of gold and silver; and by their driving this trade so long, it is
not to be imagined how vast a treasure they have got among them: so that now they do not
much care whether they sell off their merchandise for money in hand, or upon trust.
A great part of their treasure is now in bonds; but in all their contracts no private
man stands bound, but the writing runs in the name of the town; and the towns that owe
them money raise it from those private hands that owe it to them, lay it Up in their
public chamber, or enjoy the profit of it till the Utopians call for it; and they choose
rather to let the greatest part of it lie in their hands who make advantage by it, than to
call for it themselves: but if they see that any of their other neighbors stand more in
need of it, then they call it in and lend it to them: whenever they are engaged in war,
which is the only occasion in which their treasure can be usefully employed, they make use
of it themselves. In great extremities or sudden accidents they employ it in hiring
foreign troops, whom they more willingly expose to danger than their own people: they give
them great pay, knowing well that this will work even on their enemies, that it will
engage thern either to betray their own side, or at least to desert it, and that it is the
best means of raising mutual jealousies among them: for this end they have an incredible
treasure; but they do not keep it as a treasure, but in such a manner as I am almost
afraid to tell, lest you think it so extravagant, as to be hardly credible. This I have
the more reason to apprehend, because if I had not seen it myself, I could not have been
easily persuaded to have believed it upon any man's report.
It is certain that all things appear incredible to us, in proportion as they differ
from our own customs. But one who can judge aright will not wonder to find that, since
their constitution differs so much from ours, their value of gold and silver should be
measured by a very different standard; for since they have no use for money among
themselves, but keep it as a provision against events which seldom happen, and between
which there are generally long intervening intervals, they value it no farther than it
deserves, that is, in proportion to its use. So that it is plain they must prefer iron
either to gold or silver; for men can no more live without iron than without fire or
water, but nature has marked out no use for the other metals, so essential as not easily
to be dispensed with. The folly of men has enhanced the value of gold and silver, because
of their scarcity. Whereas, on the contrary, it is their opinion that nature, as an
indulgent parent, has freely given us all the best things in great abundance, such as
water and earth, but has laid up and hid from us the things that are vain and useless.
If these metals were laid up in any tower in the kingdom, it would raise a jealousy of
the Prince and Senate, and give birth to that foolish mistrust into which the people are
apt to fall, a jealousy of their intending to sacrifice the interest of the public to
their own private advantage. If they should work it into vessels or any sort of plate,
they fear that the people might grow too fond of it, and so be unwilling to let the plate
be run down if a war made it necessary to employ it in paying their soldiers. To prevent
all these inconveniences, they have fallen upon an expedient, which, as it agrees with
their other policy, so is it very different from ours, and will scarce gain belief among
us, who value gold so much and lay it up so carefully. They eat and drink out of vessels
of earth, or glass, which make an agreeable appearance though formed of brittle materials:
while they make their chamber-pots and close-stools of gold and silver; and that not only
in their public halls, but in their private houses: of the same metals they likewise make
chains and fetters for their slaves; to some of which, as a badge of infamy, they hang an
ear-ring of gold, and make others wear a chain or coronet of the same metal; and thus they
take care, by all possible means, to render gold and silver of no esteem. And from hence
it is that while other nations part with their gold and silver as unwillingly as if one
tore out their bowels, those of Utopia would look on their giving in all they possess of
those (metals, when there was any use for them) but as the parting with a trifle, or as we
would esteem the loss of a penny. They find pearls on their coast, and diamonds and
carbuncles on their rocks; they do not look after them, but, if they find them by chance,
they polish them, and with them they adorn their children, who are delighted with them,
and glory in them during their childhood; but when they grow to years, and see that none
but children use such baubles, they of their own accord, without being bid by their
parents, lay them aside; and would be as much ashamed to use them afterward as children
among us, when they come to years, are of their puppets and other toys.
I never saw a clearer instance of the opposite impressions that different customs make
on people, than I observed in the ambassadors of the Anemolians, who came to Amaurot when
I was there. As they came to treat of affairs of great consequence, the deputies from
several towns met together to wait for their coming. The ambassadors of the nations that
lie near Utopia, knowing their customs, and that fine clothes are in no esteem among them,
that silk is despised, and gold is a badge of infamy, used to come very modestly clothed;
but the Anemolians, lying more remote, and having had little commerce with them,
understanding that they were coarsely clothed, and all in the same manner, took it for
granted that they had none of those fine things among them of which they made no use; and
they being a vainglorious rather than a wise people, resolved to set themselves out with
so much pomp, that they should look like gods, and strike the eyes of the poor Utopians
with their splendor. Thus three ambassadors made their entry with 100 attendants, all clad
in garments of different colors, and the greater part in silk; the ambassadors themselves,
who were of the nobility of their country, were in cloth-of-gold, and adorned with massy
chains, ear-rings, and rings of gold: their caps were covered with bracelets set full of
pearls and other gems: in a word, they were set out with all those things that, among the
Utopians, were the badges of slavery, the marks of infamy, or the playthings of children.
It was not unpleasant to see, on the one side, how they looked big, when they compared
their rich habits with the plain clothes of the Utopians, who were come out in great
numbers to see them make their entry: and, on the other, to observe how much they were
mistaken in the impression which they hoped this pomp would have made on them. It appeared
so ridiculous a show to all that had never stirred out of their country, and had not seen
the customs of other nations, that though they paid some reverence to those that were the
most meanly clad, as if they had been the ambassadors, yet when they saw the ambassadors
themselves, so full of gold and chains, they looked upon them as slaves, and forbore to
treat them with reverence. You might have seen the children, who were grown big enough to
despise their playthings, and who had thrown away their jewels, call to their mothers,
push them gently, and cry out, "See that great fool that wears pearls and gems, as if
he were yet a child." While their mothers very innocently replied, "Hold your
peace; this, I believe, is one of the ambassador's fools." Others censured the
fashion of their chains, and observed that they were of no use; for they were too slight
to bind their slaves, who could easily break them; and besides hung so loose about them
that they thought it easy to throw them away, and so get from them.
But after the ambassadors had stayed a day among them, and saw so vast a quantity of
gold in their houses, which was as much despised by them as it was esteemed in other
nations, and beheld more gold and silver in the chains and fetters of one slave than all
their ornaments amounted to, their plumes fell, and they were ashamed of all that glory
for which they had formerly valued themselves, and accordingly laid it aside; a resolution
that they immediately took, when on their engaging in some free discourse with the
Utopians, they discovered their sense of such things and their other customs. The Utopians
wonder how any man should be so much taken with the glaring doubtful lustre of a jewel or
a stone, that can look up to a star or to the sun himself; or how any should value himself
because his cloth is made of a finer thread: for how fine soever that thread may be, it
was once no better than the fleece of a sheep, and that sheep was a sheep still for all
its wearing it. They wonder much to hear that gold which in itself is so useless a thing,
should be everywhere so much esteemed, that even men for whom it was made, and by whom it
has its value, should yet be thought of less value than this metal. That a man of lead,
who has no more sense than a log of wood, and is as bad as he is foolish, should have many
wise and good men to serve him, only because he has a great heap of that metal; and that
if it should happen that by some accident or trick of law (which sometimes produces as
great changes as chance itself) all this wealth should pass from the master to the meanest
varlet of his whole family, he himself would very soon become one of his servants, as if
he were a thing that belonged to his wealth, and so were bound to follow its fortune. But
they much more admire and detest the folly of those who, when they see a rich man, though
they neither owe him anything nor are in any sort dependent on his bounty, yet merely
because he is rich give him little less than divine honors, even though they know him to
be so covetous and base-minded that notwithstanding all his wealth he will not part with
one farthing of it to them as long as he lives.
These and such like notions has that people imbibed, partly from their education, being
bred in a country whose customs and laws are opposite to all such foolish maxims, and
partly from their learning and studies; for though there are but few in any town that are
so wholly excused from labor as to give themselves entirely up to their studies, these
being only such persons as discover from their childhood an extraordinary capacity and
disposition for letters; yet their children, and a great part of the nation, both men and
women, are taught to spend those hours in which they are not obliged to work, in reading:
and this they do through the whole progress of life. They have all their learning in their
own tongue, which is both a copious and pleasant language, and in which a man can fully
express his mind. It runs over a great tract of many countries, but it is not equally pure
in all places. They had never so much as heard of the names of any of those philosophers
that are so famous in these parts of the world, before we went among them; and yet they
had made the same discoveries as the Greeks, in music, logic, arithmetic, and geometry.
But as they are almost in everything equal to the ancient philosophers, so they far exceed
our modern logicians; for they have never yet fallen upon the barbarous niceties that our
youth are forced to learn in those trifling logical schools that are among us; they are so
far from minding chimeras, and fantastical images made in the mind, that none of them
could comprehend what we meant when we talked to them of man in the abstract, as common to
all men in particular (so that though we spoke of him as a thing that we could point at
with our fingers, yet none of them could perceive him), and yet distinct from everyone, as
if he were some monstrous Colossus or giant.
Yet for all this ignorance of these empty notions, they knew astronomy, and were
perfectly acquainted with the motions of the heavenly bodies, and have many instruments,
well contrived and divided, by which they very accurately compute the course and positions
of the sun, moon, and stars. But for the cheat, of divining by the stars by their
oppositions or conjunctions, it has not so much as entered into their thoughts. They have
a particular sagacity, founded upon much observation, in judging of the weather, by which
they know when they may look for rain, wind, or other alterations in the air; but as to
the philosophy of these things, the causes of the saltness of the sea, of its ebbing and
flowing, and of the origin and nature both of the heavens and the earth; they dispute of
them, partly as our ancient philosophers have done, and partly upon some new hypothesis,
in which, as they differ from them, so they do not in all things agree among themselves.
As to moral philosophy, they have the same disputes among them as we have here: they
examine what are properly good both for the body and the mind, and whether any outward
thing can be called truly good, or if that term belong only to the endowments of the soul.
They inquire likewise into the nature of virtue and pleasure; but their chief dispute is
concerning the happiness of a man, and wherein it consists? Whether in some one thing, or
in a great many? They seem, indeed, more inclinable to that opinion that places, if not
the whole, yet the chief part of a man's happiness in pleasure; and, what may seem more
strange, they make use of arguments even from religion, notwithstanding its severity and
roughness, for the support of that opinion so indulgent to pleasure; for they never
dispute concerning happiness without fetching some arguments from the principles of
religion, as well as from natural reason, since without the former they reckon that all
our inquiries after happiness must be but conjectural and defective.
These are their religious principles, that the soul of man is immortal, and that God of
his goodness has designed that it should be happy; and that he has therefore appointed
rewards for good and virtuous actions, and punishments for vice, to be distributed after
this life. Though these principles of religion are conveyed down among them by tradition,
they think that even reason itself determines a man to believe and acknowledge them, and
freely confess that if these were taken away no man would be so insensible as not to seek
after pleasure by all possible means, lawful or unlawful; using only this caution, that a
lesser pleasure might not stand in the way of a greater, and that no pleasure ought to be
pursued that should draw a great deal of pain after it; for they think it the maddest
thing in the world to pursue virtue, that is a sour and difficult thing; and not only to
renounce the pleasures of life, but willingly to undergo much pain and trouble, if a man
has no prospect of a reward. And what reward can there be for one that has passed his
whole life, not only without pleasure, but in pain, if there is nothing to be expected
after death? Yet they do not place happiness in all sorts of pleasures, but only in those
that in themselves are good and honest.
There is a party among them who place happiness in bare virtue; others think that our
natures are conducted by virtue to happiness, as that which is the chief good of man. They
define virtue thus, that it is a living according to nature, and think that we are made by
God for that end; they believe that a man then follows the dictates of nature when he
pursues or avoids things according to the direction of reason; they say that the first
dictate of reason is the kindling in us of a love and reverence for the Divine Majesty, to
whom we owe both all that we have and all that we can ever hope for. In the next place,
reason directs us to keep our minds as free from passion and as cheerful as we can, and
that we should consider ourselves as bound by the ties of good-nature and humanity to use
our utmost endeavors to help forward the happiness of all other persons; for there never
was any man such a morose and severe pursuer of virtue, such an enemy to pleasure, that
though he set hard rules for men to undergo much pain, many watchings, and other rigors,
yet did not at the same time advise them to do all they could, in order to relieve and
ease the miserable, and who did not represent gentleness and good-nature as amiable
dispositions. And from thence they infer that if a man ought to advance the welfare and
comfort of the rest of mankind, there being no virtue more proper and peculiar to our
nature, than to ease the miseries of others, to free from trouble and anxiety, in
furnishing them with the comforts of life, in which pleasure consists, nature much more
vigorously leads them to do all this for himself.
A life of pleasure is either a real evil, and in that case we ought not to assist
others in their pursuit of it, but on the contrary, to keep them from it all we can, as
from that which is most hurtful and deadly; or if it is a good thing, so that we not only
may, but ought to help others to it, why, then, ought not a man to begin with himself?
Since no man can be more bound to look after the good of another than after his own; for
nature cannot direct us to be good and kind to others, and yet at the same time to be
unmerciful and cruel to ourselves. Thus, as they define virtue to be living according to
nature, so they imagine that nature prompts all people on to seek after pleasure, as the
end of all they do. They also observe that in order to our supporting the pleasures of
life, nature inclines us to enter into society; for there is no man so much raised above
the rest of mankind as to be the only favorite of nature who, on the contrary, seems to
have placed on a level all those that belong to the same species. Upon this they infer
that no man ought to seek his own conveniences so eagerly as to prejudice others; and
therefore they think that not only all agreements between private persons ought to be
observed, but likewise that all those laws ought to be kept, which either a good prince
has published in due form, or to which a people that is neither oppressed with tyranny nor
circumvented by fraud, has consented, for distributing those conveniences of life which
afford us all our pleasures.
They think it is an evidence of true wisdom for a man to pursue his own advantages as
far as the laws allow it. They account it piety to prefer the public good to one's private
concerns; but they think it unjust for a man to seek for pleasure by snatching another
man's pleasures from him. And on the contrary, they think it a sign of a gentle and good
soul, for a man to dispense with his own advantage for the good of others; and that by
this means a good man finds as much pleasure one way as he parts with another; for as he
may expect the like from others when he may come to need it, so if that should fail him,
yet the sense of a good action, and the reflections that he makes on the love and
gratitude of those whom he has so obliged, gives the mind more pleasure than the body
could have found in that from which it had restrained itself. They are also persuaded that
God will make up the loss of those small pleasures, with a vast and endless joy, of which
religion easily convinces a good soul.
Thus, upon an inquiry into the whole matter, they reckon that all our actions, and even
all our virtues, terminate in pleasure, as in our chief end and greatest happiness; and
they call every motion or state, either of body or mind, in which nature teaches us to
delight, a pleasure. Thus they cautiously limit pleasure only to those appetites to which
nature leads us; for they say that nature leads us only to those delights to which reason
as well as sense carries us, and by which we neither injure any other person nor lose the
possession of greater pleasures, and of such as draw no troubles after them; but they look
upon those delights which men by a foolish though common mistake call pleasure, as if they
could change as easily the nature of things as the use of words; as things that greatly
obstruct their real happiness instead of advancing it, because they so entirely possess
the minds of those that are once captivated by them with a false notion of pleasure, that
there is no room left for pleasures of a truer or purer kind,
There are many things that in themselves have nothing that is truly delightful; on the
contrary, they have a good deal of bitterness in them; and yet from our perverse appetites
after forbidden objects, are not only ranked among the pleasures, but are made even the
greatest designs of life. Among those who pursue these sophisticated pleasures, they
reckon such as I mentioned before, who think themselves really the better for having fine
clothes; in which they think they are doubly mistaken, both in the opinion that they have
of their clothes, and in that they have of themselves; for if you consider the use of
clothes, why should a fine thread be thought better than a coarse one? And yet these men,
as if they had some real advantages beyond others, and did not owe them wholly to their
mistakes, look big, seem to fancy themselves to be more valuable, and imagine that a
respect is due to them for the sake of a rich garment, to which they would not have
pretended if they had been more meanly clothed; and even resent it as an affront, if that
respect is not paid them. It is also a great folly to be taken with outward marks of
respect, which signify nothing: for what true or real pleasure can one man find in
another's standing bare, or making legs to him? Will the bending another man's knees give
ease to yours? And will the head's being bare cure the madness of yours? And yet it is
wonderful to see how this false notion of pleasure bewitches many who delight themselves
with the fancy of their nobility, and are pleased with this conceit, that they are
descended from ancestors who have been held for some successions rich, and who have had
great possessions; for this is all that makes nobility at present; yet they do not think
themselves a whit the less noble, though their immediate parents have left none of this
wealth to them, or though they themselves have squandered it away.
The Utopians have no better opinion of those who are much taken with gems and precious
stones, and who account it a degree of happiness, next to a divine one, if they can
purchase one that is very extraordinary; especially if it be of that sort of stones that
is then in greatest request; for the same sort is not at all times universally of the same
value; nor will men buy it unless it be dismounted and taken out of the gold; the jeweller
is then made to give good security, and required solemnly to swear that the stone is true,
that by such an exact caution a false one might not be bought instead of a true: though if
you were to examine it, your eye could find no difference between the counterfeit and that
which is true; so that they are all one to you as much as if you were blind. Or can it be
thought that they who heap up a useless mass of wealth, not for any use that it is to
bring them, but merely to please themselves with the contemplation of it, enjoy any true
pleasure in it? The delight they find is only a false shadow of joy. Those are no better
whose error is somewhat different from the former, and who hide it, out of their fear of
losing it; for what other name can fit the hiding it in the earth, or rather the restoring
it to it again, it being thus cut off from being useful, either to its owner or to the
rest of mankind? And yet the owner having hid it carefully, is glad, because he thinks he
is now sure of it. If it should be stolen, the owner, though he might live perhaps ten
years after the theft, of which he knew nothing, would find no difference between his
having or losing it; for both ways it was equally useless to him.
Among those foolish pursuers of pleasure they reckon all that delight in hunting, in
fowling, or gaming: of whose madness they have only heard, for they have no such things
among them. But they have asked us, what sort of pleasure is it that men can find in
throwing the dice? For if there were any pleasure in it, they think the doing of it so
often should give one a surfeit of it: and what pleasure can one find in hearing the
barking and howling of dogs, which seem rather odious than pleasant sounds? Nor can they
comprehend the pleasure of seeing dogs run after a hare, more than of seeing one dog run
after another; for if the seeing them run is that which gives the pleasure, you have the
same entertainment to the eye on both these occasions, since that is the same in both
cases: but if the pleasure lies in seeing the hare killed and torn by the dogs, this ought
rather to stir pity, that a weak, harmless and fearful hare should be devoured by strong,
fierce, and cruel dogs. Therefore all this business of hunting is, among the Utopians,
turned over to their butchers; and those, as has been already said, are all slaves; and
they look on hunting as one of the basest parts of a butcher's work: for they account it
both more profitable and more decent to kill those beasts that are more necessary and
useful to mankind; whereas the killing and tearing of so small and miserable an animal can
only attract the huntsman with a false show of pleasure, from which he can reap but small
advantage. They look on the desire of the bloodshed, even of beasts, as a mark of a mind
that is already corrupted with cruelty, or that at least by the frequent returns of so
brutal a pleasure must degenerate into it.
Thus, though the rahble of mankind look upon these, and on innumerable other things of
the same nature, as pleasures, the Utopians, on the contrary, observing that there is
nothing in them truly pleasant, conclude that they are not to be reckoned among pleasures:
for though these things may create some tickling in the senses (which seems to be a true
notion of pleasure), yet they imagine that this does not arise from the thing itself, but
from a depraved custom, which may so vitiate a man's taste, that bitter things may pass
for sweet; as women with child think pitch or tallow tastes sweeter than honey; but as a
man's sense when corrupted, either by a disease or some ill habit, does not change the
nature of other things, so neither can it change the nature of pleasure.
They reckon up several sorts of pleasures, which they call true ones: some belong to
the body and others to the mind. The pleasures of the mind lie in knowledge, and in that
delight which the contemplation of truth carries with it; to which they add the joyful
reflections on a well-spent life, and the assured hopes of a future happiness. They divide
the pleasures of the body into two sorts; the one is that which gives our senses some real
delight, and is performed, either by recruiting nature, and supplying those parts which
feed the internal heat of life by eating and drinking; or when nature is eased of any
surcharge that oppresses it; when we are relieved from sudden pain, or that which arises
from satisfying the appetite which nature has wisely given to lead us to the propagation
of the species. There is another kind of pleasure that arises neither from our receiving
what the body requires nor its being relieved when overcharged, and yet by a secret,
unseen virtue affects the senses, raises the passions, and strikes the mind with generous
impressions; this is the pleasure that arises from music. Another kind of bodily pleasure
is that which results from an undisturbed and vigorous constitution of body, when life and
active spirits seem to actuate every part. This lively health, when entirely free from all
mixture of pain, of itself gives an inward pleasure, independent of all external objects
of delight; and though this pleasure does not so powerfully affect us, nor act so strongly
on the senses as some of the others, yet it may be esteemed as the greatest of all
pleasures, and almost all the Utopians reckon it the foundation and basis of all the other
joys of life; since this alone makes the state of life easy and desirable; and when this
is wanting, a man is really capable of no other pleasure. They look upon freedom from
pain, if it does not rise from perfect health, to be a state of stupidity rather than of
pleasure.
This subject has been very narrowly canvassed among them; and it has been debated
whether a firm and entire health could be called a pleasure or not? Some have thought that
there was no pleasure but what was excited by some sensible motion in the body. But this
opinion has been long ago excluded from among them, so that now they almost universally
agree that health is the greatest of all bodily pleasures; and that as there is a pain in
sickness, which is as opposite in its nature to pleasure as sickness itself is to health,
so they hold that health is accompanied with pleasure: and if any should say that sickness
is not really pain, but that it only carries pain along with it, they look upon that as a
fetch of subtilty, that does not much alter the matter. It is all one, in their opinion,
whether it be said that health is in itself a pleasure, or that it begets a pleasure, as
fire gives heat; so it be granted, that all those whose health is entire have a true
pleasure in the enjoyment of it: and they reason thus -what is the pleasure of eating, but
that a man's health which had been weakened, does, with the assistance of food, drive away
hunger, and so recruiting itself recovers its former vigor? And being thus refreshed, it
finds a pleasure in that conflict; and if the conflict is pleasure, the victory must yet
breed a greater pleasure, except we fancy that it becomes stupid as soon as it has
obtained that which it pursued, and so neither knows nor rejoices in its own welfare. If
it is said that health cannot be felt, they absolutely deny it; for what man is in health
that does not perceive it when he is awake? Is there any man that is so dull and stupid as
not to acknowledge that he feels a delight in health? And what is delight but another name
for pleasure?
But of all pleasures, they esteem those to be most valuable that lie in the mind, the
chief of which arises out of true virtue, and the witnesses of a good conscience. They
account health the chief pleasure that belongs to the body; for they think that the
pleasure of eating and drinking, and all the other delights of sense, are only so far
desirable as they give or maintain health. But they are not pleasant in themselves,
otherwise than as they resist those impressions that our natural infirmities are still
making upon us: for as a wise man desires rather to avoid diseases than to take physic,
and to be freed from pain, rather than to find ease by remedies; so it is more desirable
not to need this sort of pleasure, than to be obliged to indulge it. If any man imagines
that there is a real happiness in these enjoyments, he must then confess that he would be
the happiest of all men if he were to lead his life in perpetual hunger, thirst, and
itching, and by consequence in perpetual eating, drinking, and scratching himself; which
anyone may easily see would be not only a base but a miserable state of life. These are
indeed the lowest of pleasures, and the least pure; for we can never relish them, but when
they are mixed with the contrary pains. The pain of hunger must give us the pleasure of
eating; and here the pain out-balances the pleasure; and as the pain is more vehement, so
it lasts much longer; for as it begins before the pleasure, so it does not cease but with
the pleasure that extinguishes it, and both expire together.
They think, therefore, none of those pleasures is to be valued any further than as it
is necessary; yet they rejoice in them, and with due gratitude acknowledge the tenderness
of the great Author of nature, who has planted in us appetites, by which those things that
are necessary for our preservation are likewise made pleasant to us. For how miserable a
thing would life be, if those daily diseases of hunger and thirst were to be carried off
by such bitter drugs as we must use for those diseases that return seldomer upon us? And
thus these pleasant as well as proper gifts of nature maintain the strength and the
sprightliness of our bodies.
They also entertain themselves with the other delights let in at their eyes, their
ears, and their nostrils, as the pleasant relishes and seasonings of life, which nature
seems to have marked out peculiarly for man; since no other sort of animals contemplates
the figure and beauty of the universe; nor is delighted with smells, any further than as
they distinguish meats by them; nor do they apprehend the concords or discords of sound;
yet in all pleasures whatsoever they take care that a lesser joy does not hinder a
greater, and that pleasure may never breed pain, which they think always follows dishonest
pleasures. But they think it madness for a man to wear out the beauty of his face, or the
force of his natural strength; to corrupt the sprightliness of his body by sloth and
laziness, or to waste it by fasting; that it is madness to weaken the strength of his
constitution, and reject the other delights of life; unless by renouncing his own
satisfaction, he can either serve the public or promote the happiness of others, for which
he expects a greater recompense from God. So that they look on such a course of life as
the mark of a mind that is both cruel to itself, and ungrateful to the Author of nature,
as if we would not be beholden to Him for His favors, and therefore reject all His
blessings; as one who should afflict himself for the empty shadow of virtue; or for no
better end than to render himself capable of bearing those misfortunes which possibly will
never happen.
This is their notion of virtue and of pleasure; they think that no man's reason can
carry him to a truer idea of them, unless some discovery from heaven should inspire him
with sublimer notions. I have not now the leisure to examine whether they think right or
wrong in this matter: nor do I judge it necessary, for I have only undertaken to give you
an account of their constitution, but not to defend all their principles. I am sure, that
whatsoever may be said of their notions, there is not in the whole world either a better
people or a happier government: their bodies are vigorous and lively; and though they are
but of a middle stature, and have neither the fruitfullest soil nor the purest air in the
world, yet they fortify themselves so well by their temperate course of life, against the
unhealthiness of their air, and by their industry they so cultivate their soil, that there
is nowhere to be seen a greater increase both of corn and cattle, nor are there anywhere
healthier men and freer from diseases: for one may there see reduced to practice, not only
all the arts that the husbandman employs in manuring and improving an ill soil, but whole
woods plucked up by the roots, and in other places new ones planted, where there were none
before.
Their principal motive for this is the convenience of carriage, that their timber may
be either near their towns or growing on the banks of the sea or of some rivers, so as to
be floated to them; for it is a harder work to carry wood at any distance over land, than
corn. The people are industrious, apt to learn, as well as cheerful and pleasant; and none
can endure more labor, when it is necessary; but except in that case they love their ease.
They are unwearied pursuers of knowledge; for when we had given them some hints of the
learning and discipline of the Greeks, concerning whom we only instructed them (for we
know that there was nothing among the Romans, except their historians and their poets,
that they would value much), it was strange to see how eagerly they were set on learning
that language. We began to read a little of it to them, rather in compliance with their
importunity, than out of any hopes of their reaping from it any great advantage. But after
a very short trial, we found they made such progress, that we saw our labor was like to be
more successful than we could have expected. They learned to write their characters and to
pronounce their language so exactly, had so quick an apprehension, they remembered it so
faithfully, and became so ready and correct in the use of it, that it would have looked
like a miracle if the greater part of those whom we taught had not been men both of
extraordinary capacity and of a fit age for instruction. They were for the greatest part
chosen from among their learned men, by their chief Council, though some studied it of
their own accord. In three years' time they became masters of the whole language, so that
they read the best of the Greek authors very exactly. I am indeed apt to think that they
learned that language the more easily, from its having some relation to their own. I
believe that they were a colony of the Greeks; for though their language comes nearer the
Persian, yet they retain many names, both for their towns and magistrates, that are of
Greek derivation.
I happened to carry a great many books with me, instead of merchandise, when I sailed
my fourth voyage; for I was so far from thinking of soon coming back, that I rather
thought never to have returned at all, and I gave them all my books, among which were many
of Plato's and some of Aristotle's works. I had also Theophrastus "On Plants,"
which, to my great regret, was imperfect; for having laid it carelessly by, while we were
at sea, a monkey had seized upon it, and in many places torn out the leaves. They have no
books of grammar but Lascares, for I did not carry Theodorus with me; nor have they any
dictionaries but Hesichius and Dioscorides. They esteem Plutarch highly, and were much
taken with Lucian's wit and with his pleasant way of writing. As for the poets, they have
Aristophanes, Homer, Euripides, and Sophocles of Aldus's edition; and for historians
Thucydides, Herodotus, and Herodian. One of my companions, Thricius Apinatus, happened to
carry with him some of Hippocrates's works, and Galen's "Microtechne," which
they hold in great estimation; for though there is no nation in the world that needs
physic so little as they do, yet there is not any that honors it so much: they reckon the
knowledge of it one of the pleasantest and most profitable parts of philosophy, by which,
as they search into the secrets of nature, so they not only find this study highly
agreeable, but think that such inquiries are very acceptable to the Author of nature; and
imagine that as He, like the inventors of curious engines among mankind, has exposed this
great machine of the universe to the view of the only creatures capable of contemplating
it, so an exact and curious observer, who admires His workmanship, is much more acceptable
to Him than one of the herd, who, like a beast incapable of reason, looks on this glorious
scene with the eyes of a dull and unconcerned spectator.
The minds of the Utopians, when fenced with a love for learning, are very ingenious in
discovering all such arts as are necessary to carry it to perfection. Two things they owe
to us, the manufacture of paper and the art of printing: yet they are not so entirely
indebted to us for these discoveries but that a great part of the invention was their own.
We showed them some books printed by Aldus, we explained to them the way of making paper,
and the mystery of printing; but as we had never practised these arts, we described them
in a crude and superficial manner. They seized the hints we gave them, and though at first
they could not arrive at perfection, yet by making many essays they at last found out and
corrected all their errors, and conquered every difficulty. Before this they only wrote on
parchment, on reeds, or on the bark of trees; but now they have established the
manufacture of paper, and set up printingpresses, so that if they had but a good number of
Greek authors they would be quickly supplied with many copies of them: at present, though
they have no more than those I have mentioned, yet by several impressions they have
multiplied them into many thousands .
If any man was to go among them that had some extraordinary talent, or that by much
travelling had observed the customs of many nations (which made us to be so well
received), he would receive a hearty welcome; for they are very desirous to know the state
of the whole world. Very few go among them on the account of traffic, for what can a man
carry to them but iron or gold or silver, which merchants desire rather to export than
import to a strange country: and as for their exportation, they think it better to manage
that themselves than to leave it to foreigners, for by this means, as they understand the
state of the neighboring countries better, so they keep up the art of navigation, which
cannot be maintained but by much practice.
Of Their Slaves, and of Their Marriages
THEY do not make slaves of prisoners of war, except those that are taken in battle; nor
of the sons of their slaves, nor of those of other nations: the slaves among them are only
such as are condemned to that state of life for the commission of some crime, or, which is
more common, such as their merchants find condemned to die in those parts to which they
trade, whom they sometimes redeem at low rates; and in other places have them for nothing.
They are kept at perpetual labor, and are always chained, but with this difference, that
their own natives are treated much worse than others; they are considered as more
profligate than the rest, and since they could not be restrained by the advantages of so
excellent an education, are judged worthy of harder usage. Another sort of slaves are the
poor of the neighboring countries, who offer of their own accord to come and serve them;
they treat these better, and use them in all other respects as well as their own
countrymen, except their imposing more labor upon them, which is no hard task to those
that have been accustomed to it; and if any of these have a mind to go back to their own
country, which indeed falls out but seldom, as they do not force them to stay, so they do
not send them away empty-handed.
I have already told you with what care they look after their sick, so that nothing is
left undone that can contribute either to their ease or health: and for those who are
taken with fixed and incurable diseases, they use all possible ways to cherish them, and
to make their lives as comfortable as possible. They visit them often, and take great
pains to make their time pass off easily: but when any is taken with a torturing and
lingering pain, so that there is no hope, either of recovery or ease, the priests and
magistrates come and exhort them, that since they are now unable to go on with the
business of life, are become a burden to themselves and to all about them, and they have
really outlived themselves, they should no longer nourish such a rooted distemper, but
choose rather to die, since they cannot live but in much misery: being assured, that if
they thus deliver themselves from torture, or are willing that others should do it, they
shall be happy after death. Since by their acting thus, they lose none of the pleasures
but only the troubles of life, they think they behave not only reasonably, but in a manner
consistent with religion and piety; because they follow the advice given them by their
priests, who are the expounders of the will of God. Such as are wrought on by these
persuasions, either starve themselves of their own accord, or take opium, and by that
means die without pain. But no man is forced on this way of ending his life; and if they
cannot be persuaded to it, this does not induce them to fail in their attendance and care
of them; but as they believe that a voluntary death, when it is chosen upon such an
authority, is very honorable, so if any man takes away his own life without the
approbation of the priests and the Senate, they give him none of the honors of a decent
funeral, but throw his body into a ditch.
Their women are not married before eighteen, nor their men before two-and-twenty, and
if any of them run into forbidden embraces before marriage they are severely punished, and
the privilege of marriage is denied them, unless they can obtain a special warrant from
the Prince. Such disorders cast a great reproach upon the master and mistress of the
family in which they happen, for it is supposed that they have failed in their duty. The
reason of punishing this so severely is, because they think that if they were not strictly
restrained from all vagrant appetites, very few would engage in a state in which they
venture the quiet of their whole lives, by being confined to one person, and are obliged
to endure all the inconveniences with which it is accompanied.
In choosing their wives they use a method that would appear to us very absurd and
ridiculous, but it is constantly observed among them, and is accounted perfectly
consistent with wisdom. Before marriage some grave matron presents the bride naked,
whether she is a virgin or a widow, to the bridegroom; and after that some grave man
presents the bridegroom naked to the bride. We indeed both laughed at this, and condemned
it as very indecent. But they, on the other hand, wondered at the folly of the men of all
other nations, who, if they are but to buy a horse of a small value, are so cautious that
they will see every part of him, and take off both his saddle and all his other tackle,
that there may be no secret ulcer hid under any of them; and that yet in the choice of a
wife, on which depends the happiness or unhappiness of the rest of his life, a man should
venture upon trust, and only see about a hand's-breadth of the face, all the rest of the
body being covered, under which there may lie hid what may be contagious as well as
loathsome. All men are not so wise as to choose a woman only for her good qualities; and
even wise men consider the body as that which adds not a little to the mind: and it is
certain there may be some such deformity covered with the clothes as may totally alienate
a man from his wife when it is too late to part from her. If such a thing is discovered
after marriage, a man has no remedy but patience. They therefore think it is reasonable
that there should be good provision made against such mischievous frauds.
There was so much the more reason for them to make a regulation in this matter, because
they are the only people of those parts that neither allow of polygamy nor of divorces,
except in the case of adultery or insufferable perverseness; for in these cases the Senate
dissolves the marriage, and grants the injured person leave to marry again; but the guilty
are made infamous, and are never allowed the privilege of a second marriage. None are
suffered to put away their wives against their wills, from any great calamity that may
have fallen on their persons; for they look on it as the height of cruelty and treachery
to abandon either of the married persons when they need most the tender care of their
comfort, and that chiefly in the case of old age, which as it carries many diseases along
with it, so it is a disease of itself. But it frequently falls out that when a married
couple do not well agree, they by mutual consent separate, and find out other persons with
whom they hope they may live more happily. Yet this is not done without obtaining leave of
the Senate, which never admits of a divorce but upon a strict inquiry made, both by the
Senators and their wives, into the grounds upon which it is desired; and even when they
are satisfied concerning the reasons of it, they go on but slowly, for they imagine that
too great easiness in granting leave for new marriages would very much shake the kindness
of married people. They punish severely those that defile the marriage-bed. If both
parties are married they are divorced, and the injured persons may marry one another, or
whom they please; but the adulterer and the adulteress are condemned to slavery. Yet if
either of the injured persons cannot shake off the love of the married person, they may
live with them still in that state, but they must follow them to that labor to which the
slaves are condemned; and sometimes the repentance of the condemned, together with the
unshaken kindness of the innocent and injured person, has prevailed so far with the Prince
that he has taken off the sentence; but those that relapse after they are once pardoned
are punished with death.
Their law does not determine the punishment for other crimes; but that is left to the
Senate, to temper it according to the circumstances of the fact. Husbands have power to
correct their wives, and parents to chastise their children, unless the fault is so great
that a public punishment is thought necessary for striking terror into others. For the
most part, slavery is the punishment even of the greatest crimes; for as that is no less
terrible to the criminals themselves than death, so they think the preserving them in a
state of servitude is more for the interest of the commonwealth than killing them; since
as their labor is a greater benefit to the public than their death could be, so the sight
of their misery is a more lasting terror to other men than that which would be given by
their death. If their slaves rebel, and will not bear their yoke and submit to the labor
that is enjoined them, they are treated as wild beasts that cannot be kept in order,
neither by a prison nor by their chains, and are at last put to death. But those who bear
their punishment patiently, and are so much wrought on by that pressure that lies so hard
on them that it appears they are really more troubled for the crimes they have committed
than for the miseries they suffer, are not out of hope but that at last either the Prince
will, by his prerogative, or the people by their intercession, restore them again to their
liberty, or at least very much mitigate their slavery. He that tempts a married woman to
adultery is no less severely punished than he that commits it; for they believe that a
deliberate design to commit a crime is equal to the fact itself: since its not taking
effect does not make the person that miscarried in his attempt at all the less guilty.
They take great pleasure in fools, and as it is thought a base and unbecoming thing to
use them ill, so they do not think it amiss for people to divert themselves with their
folly: and, in their opinion, this is a great advantage to the fools themselves: for if
men were so sullen and severe as not at all to please themselves with their ridiculous
behavior and foolish sayings, which is all that they can do to recommend themselves to
others, it could not be expected that they would be so well provided for, nor so tenderly
used as they must otherwise be. If any man should reproach another for his being misshaped
or imperfect in any part of his body, it would not at all be thought a reflection on the
person so treated, but it would be accounted scandalous in him that had upbraided another
with what he could not help. It is thought a sign of a sluggish and sordid mind not to
preserve carefully one's natural beauty; but it is likewise infamous among them to use
paint. They all see that no beauty recommends a wife so much to her husband as the probity
of her life, and her obedience: for as some few are caught and held only by beauty, so all
are attracted by the other excellences which charm all the world.
As they fright men from committing crimes by punishments, so they invite them to the
love of virtue by public honors: therefore they erect statues to the memories of such
worthy men as have deserved well of their country, and set these in their market-places,
both to perpetuate the remembrance of their actions, and to be an incitement to their
posterity to follow their example.
If any man aspires to any office, he is sure never to compass it: they all live easily
together, for none of the magistrates are either insolent or cruel to the people: they
affect rather to be called fathers, and by being really so, they well deserve the name;
and the people pay them all the marks of honor the more freely, because none are exacted
from them. The Prince himself has no distinction, either of garments or of a crown; but is
only distinguished by a sheaf of corn carried before him; as the high-priest is also known
by his being preceded by a person carrying a wax light.
They have but few laws, and such is their constitution that they need not many. They
very much condemn other nations, whose laws, together with the commentaries on them, swell
up to so many volumes; for they think it an unreasonable thing to oblige men to obey a
body of laws that are both of such a bulk and so dark as not to be read and understood by
every one of the subjects.
They have no lawyers among them, for they consider them as a sort of people whose
profession it is to disguise matters and to wrest the laws; and therefore they think it is
much better that every man should plead his own cause, and trust it to the judge, as in
other places the client trusts it to a counsellor. By this means they both cut off many
delays, and find out truth more certainly: for after the parties have laid open the merits
of the cause, without those artifices which lawyers are apt to suggest, the judge examines
the whole matter, and supports the simplicity of such well-meaning persons, whom otherwise
crafty men would be sure to run down: and thus they avoid those evils which appear very
remarkably among all those nations that labor under a vast load of laws. Every one of them
is skilled in their law, for as it is a very short study, so the plainest meaning of which
words are capable is always the sense of their laws. And they argue thus: all laws are
promulgated for this end, that every man may know his duty; and therefore the plainest and
most obvious sense of the words is that which ought to be put upon them; since a more
refined exposition cannot be easily comprehended, and would only serve to make the laws
become useless to the greater part of mankind, and especially to those who need most the
direction of them: for it is all one, not to make a law at all, or to couch it in such
terms that without a quick apprehension, and much study, a man cannot find out the true
meaning of it; since the generality of mankind are both so dull and so much employed in
their several trades that they have neither the leisure nor the capacity requisite for
such an inquiry.
Some of their neighbors, who are masters of their own liberties, having long ago, by
the assistance of the Utopians, shaken off the yoke of tyranny, and being much taken with
those virtues which they observe among them, have come to desire that they would send
magistrates to govern them; some changing them every year, and others every five years. At
the end of their government they bring them back to Utopia, with great expressions of
honor and esteem, and carry away others to govern in their stead. In this they seem to
have fallen upon a very good expedient for their own happiness and safety; for since the
good or ill condition of a nation depends so much upon their magistrates, they could not
have made a better choice than by pitching on men whom no advantages can bias; for wealth
is of no use to them, since they must so soon go back to their own country; and they being
strangers among them, are not engaged in any of their heats or animosities; and it is
certain that when public judicatories are swayed, either by avarice or partial affections,
there must follow a dissolution of justice, the chief sinew of society.
The Utopians call those nations that come and ask magistrates from them, neighbors; but
those to whom they have been of more particular service, friends. And as all other nations
are perpetually either making leagues or breaking them, they never enter into an alliance
with any State. They think leagues are useless things, and believe that if the common ties
of humanity do not knit men together, the faith of promises will have no great effect; and
they are the more confirmed in this by what they see among the nations round about them,
who are no strict observers of leagues and treaties. We know how religiously they are
observed in Europe, more particularly where the Christian doctrine is received, among whom
they are sacred and inviolable; which is partly owing to the justice and goodness of the
princes themselves, and partly to the reverence they pay to the popes; who as they are
most religious observers of their own promises, so they exhort all other princes to
perform theirs; and when fainter methods do not prevail, they compel them to it by the
severity of the pastoral censure, and think that it would be the most indecent thing
possible if men who are particularly distinguished by the title of the
"faithful" should not religiously keep the faith of their treaties. But in that
newfound world, which is not more distant from us in situation than the people are in
their manners and course of life, there is no trusting to leagues, even though they were
made with all the pomp of the most sacred ceremonies; on the contrary, they are on this
account the sooner broken, some slight pretence being found in the words of the treaties,
which are purposely couched in such ambiguous terms that they can never be so strictly
bound but they will always find some loophole to escape at; and thus they break both their
leagues and their faith. And this is done with such impudence, that those very men who
value themselves on having suggested these expedients to their princes, would with a
haughty scorn declaim against such craft, or, to speak plainer, such fraud and deceit, if
they found private men make use of it in their bargains, and would readily say that they
deserved to be hanged.
By this means it is, that all sorts of justice passes in the world for a low-spirited
and vulgar virtue, far below the dignity of royal greatness. Or at least, there are set up
two sorts of justice; the one is mean, and creeps on the ground, and therefore becomes
none but the lower part of mankind, and so must be kept in severely by many restraints
that it may not break out beyond the bounds that are set to it. The other is the peculiar
virtue of princes, which as it is more majestic than that which becomes the rabble, so
takes a freer compass; and thus lawful and unlawful are only measured by pleasure and
interest. These practices of the princes that lie about Utopia, who make so little account
of their faith, seem to be the reasons that determine them to engage in no confederacies;
perhaps they would change their mind if they lived among us; but yet though treaties were
more religiously observed, they would still dislike the custom of making them; since the
world has taken up a false maxim upon it, as if there were no tie of nature uniting one
nation to another, only separated perhaps by a mountain or a river, and that all were born
in a state of hostility, and so might lawfully do all that mischief to their neighbors
against which there is no provision made by treaties; and that when treaties are made,
they do not cut off the enmity, or restrain the license of preying upon each other, if by
the unskilfulness of wording them there are not effectual provisos made against them.
They, on the other hand, judge that no man is to be esteemed our enemy that has never
injured us; and that the partnership of the human nature is instead of a league. And that
kindness and good-nature unite men more effectually and with greater strength than any
agreements whatsoever; since thereby the engagements of men's hearts become stronger than
the bond and obligation of words.
Of Their Military Discipline
THEY detest war as a very brutal thing; and which, to the reproach of human nature, is
more practised by men than by any sort of beasts. They, in opposition to the sentiments of
almost all other nations, think that there is nothing more inglorious than that glory that
is gained by war. And therefore though they accustom themselves daily to military
exercises and the discipline of war -in which not only their men but their women likewise
are trained up, that in cases of necessity they may not be quite useless -yet they do not
rashly engage in war, unless it be either to defend themselves, or their friends, from any
unjust aggressors; or out of good-nature or in compassion assist an oppressed nation in
shaking off the yoke of tyranny. They indeed help their friends, not only in defensive,
but also in offensive wars; but they never do that unless they had been consulted before
the breach was made, and being satisfied with the grounds on which they went, they had
found that all demands of reparation were rejected, so that a war was unavoidable. This
they think to be not only just, when one neighbor makes an inroad on another, by public
order, and carry away the spoils; but when the merchants of one country are oppressed in
another, either under pretence of some unjust laws, or by the perverse wresting of good
ones. This they count a juster cause of war than the other, because those injuries are
done under some color of laws.
This was the only ground of that war in which they engaged with the Nephelogetes
against the Aleopolitanes, a little before our time; for the merchants of the former
having, as they thought, met with great injustice among the latter, which, whether it was
in itself right or wrong, drew on a terrible war, in which many of their neighbors were
engaged; and their keenness in carrying it on being supported by their strength in
maintaining it, it not only shook some very flourishing States, and very much afflicted
others, but after a series of much mischief ended in the entire conquest and slavery of
the Aleopolitanes, who though before the war they were in all respects much superior to
the Nephelogetes, were yet subdued; but though the Utopians had assisted them in the war,
yet they pretended to no share of the spoil.
But though they so vigorously assist their friends in obtaining reparation for the
injuries they have received in affairs of this nature, yet if any such frauds were
committed against themselves, provided no violence was done to their persons, they would
only on their being refused satisfaction forbear trading with such a people. This is not
because they consider their neighbors more than their own citizens; but since their
neighbors trade everyone upon his own stock, fraud is a more sensible injury to them than
it is to the Utopians, among whom the public in such a case only suffers. As they expect
nothing in return for the merchandise they export but that in which they so much abound,
and is of little use to them, the loss does not much affect them; they think therefore it
would be too severe to revenge a loss attended with so little inconvenience, either to
their lives or their subsistence, with the death of many persons; but if any of their
people is either killed or wounded wrongfully, whether it be done by public authority or
only by private men, as soon as they hear of it they send ambassadors, and demand that the
guilty persons may be delivered up to them; and if that is denied, they declare war; but
if it be complied with, the offenders are condemned either to death or slavery.
They would be both troubled and ashamed of a bloody victory over their enemies, and
think it would be as foolish a purchase as to buy the most valuable goods at too high a
rate. And in no victory do they glory so much as in that which is gained by dexterity and
good conduct, without bloodshed. In such cases they appoint public triumphs, and erect
trophies to the honor of those who have succeeded; for then do they reckon that a man acts
suitably to his nature when he conquers his enemy in such a way as that no other creature
but a man could be capable of, and that is by the strength of his understanding. Bears,
lions, boars, wolves, and dogs, and all other animals employ their bodily force one
against another, in which as many of them are superior to men, both in strength and
fierceness, so they are all subdued by his reason and understanding.
The only design of the Utopians in war is to obtain that by force, which if it had been
granted them in time would have prevented the war; or if that cannot be done, to take so
severe a revenge on those that have injured them that they may be terrified from doing the
like for the time to come. By these ends they measure all their designs, and manage them
so that it is visible that the appetite of fame or vainglory does not work so much on them
as a just care of their own security.
As soon as they declare war, they take care to have a great many schedules, that are
sealed with their common seal, affixed in the most conspicuous places of their enemies'
country. This is carried secretly, and done in many places all at once. In these they
promise great rewards to such as shall kill the prince, and lesser in proportion to such
as shall kill any other persons, who are those on whom, next to the prince himself, they
cast the chief balance of the war. And they double the sum to him that, instead of killing
the person so marked out, shall take him alive and put him in their hands. They offer not
only indemnity, but rewards, to such of the persons themselves that are so marked, if they
will act against their countrymen; by this means those that are named in their schedules
become not only distrustful of their fellow-citizens but are jealous of one another, and
are much distracted by fear and danger; for it has often fallen out that many of them, and
even the Prince himself, have been betrayed by those in whom they have trusted most; for
the rewards that the Utopians offer are so unmeasurably great, that there is no sort of
crime to which men cannot be drawn by them. They consider the risk that those run who
undertake such services, and offer a recompense proportioned to the danger; not only a
vast deal of gold, but great revenues in lands, that lie among other nations that are
their friends, where they may go and enjoy them very securely; and they observe the
promises they make of this kind most religiously.
They very much approve of this way of corrupting their enemies, though it appears to
others to be base and cruel; but they look on it as a wise course, to make an end of what
would be otherwise a long war, without so much as hazarding one battle to decide it. They
think it likewise an act of mercy and love to mankind to prevent the great slaughter of
those that must otherwise be killed in the progress of the war, both on their own side and
on that of their enemies, by the death of a few that are most guilty; and that in so doing
they are kind even to their enemies, and pity them no less than their own people, as
knowing that the greater part of them do not engage in the, war of their own accord, but
are driven into it by the passions of their prince.
If this method does not succeed with them, then they sow seeds of contention among
their enemies, and animate the prince's brother, or some of the nobility, to aspire to the
crown. If they cannot disunite them by domestic broils, then they engage their neighbors
against them, and make them set on foot some old pretensions, which are never wanting to
princes when they have occasion for them. These they plentifully supply with money, though
but very sparingly with any auxiliary troops: for they are so tender of their own people,
that they would not willingly exchange one of them, even with the prince of their enemies'
country.
But as they keep their gold and silver only for such an occasion, so when that offers
itself they easily part with it, since it would be no inconvenience to them though they
should reserve nothing of it to themselves. For besides the wealth that they have among
them at home, they have a vast treasure abroad, many nations round about them being deep
in their debt: so that they hire soldiers from all places for carrying on their wars, but
chiefly from the Zapolets, who live 500 miles east of Utopia. They are a rude, wild, and
fierce nation, who delight in the woods and rocks, among which they were born and bred up.
They are hardened both against heat, cold, and labor, and know nothing of the delicacies
of life. They do not apply themselves to agriculture, nor do they care either for their
houses or their clothes. Cattle is all that they look after; and for the greatest part
they live either by hunting, or upon rapine; and are made, as it were, only for war. They
watch all opportunities of engaging in it, and very readily embrace such as are offered
them. Great numbers of them will frequently go out, and offer themselves for a very low
pay, to serve any that will employ them: they know none of the arts of life, but those
that lead to the taking it away; they serve those that hire them, both with much courage
and great fidelity; but will not engage to serve for any determined time, and agree upon
such terms, that the next day they may go over to the enemies of those whom they serve, if
they offer them a greater encouragement: and will perhaps return to them the day after
that, upon a higher advance of their pay.
There are few wars in which they make not a considerable part of the armies of both
sides: so it often falls out that they who are related, and were hired in the same
country, and so have lived long and familiarly together, forgetting both their relations
and former friendship, kill one another upon no other consideration than that of being
hired to it for a little money, by princes of different interests; and such a regard have
they for money, that they are easily wrought on by the difference of one penny a day to
change sides. So entirely does their avarice influence them; and yet this money, which
they value so highly, is of little use to them; for what they purchase thus with their
blood, they quickly waste on luxury, which among them is but of a poor and miserable form.
This nation serves the Utopians against all people whatsoever, for they pay higher than
any other. The Utopians hold this for a maxim, that as they seek out the best sort of men
for their own use at home, so they make use of this worst sort of men for the consumption
of war, and therefore they hire them with the offers of vast rewards, to expose themselves
to all sorts of hazards, out of which the greater part never returns to claim their
promises. Yet they make them good most religiously to such as escape. This animates them
to adventure again, whenever there is occasion for it; for the Utopians are not at all
troubled how many of these happen to be killed, and reckon it a service done to mankind if
they could be a means to deliver the world from such a lewd and vicious sort of people;
that seem to have run together as to the drain of human nature. Next to these they are
served in their wars with those upon whose account they undertake them, and with the
auxiliary troops of their other friends, to whom they join a few of their own people, and
send some men of eminent and approved virtue to command in chief. There are two sent with
him, who during his command are but private men, but the first is to succeed him if he
should happen to be either killed or taken; and in case of the like misfortune to him, the
third comes in his place; and thus they provide against ill events, that such accidents as
may befall their generals may not endanger their armies.
When they draw out troops of their own people, they take such out of every city as
freely offer themselves, for none are forced to go against their wills, since they think
that if any man is pressed that wants courage, he will not only act faintly, but by his
cowardice dishearten others. But if an invasion is made on their country they make use of
such men, if they have good bodies, though they are not brave; and either put them aboard
their ships or place them on the walls of their towns, that being so posted they may find
no opportunity of flying away; and thus either shame, the heat of action, or the
impossibility of flying, bears down their cowardice; they often make a virtue of necessity
and behave themselves well, because nothing else is left them. But as they force no man to
go into any foreign war against his will, so they do not hinder those women who are
willing to go along with their husbands; on the contrary, they encourage and praise them,
and they stand often next their husbands in the front of the army. They also place
together those who are related, parents and children, kindred, and those that are mutually
allied, near one another; that those whom nature has inspired with the greatest zeal for
assisting one another, may be the nearest and readiest to do it; and it is matter of great
reproach if husband or wife survive one another, or if a child survives his parents, and
therefore when they come to be engaged in action they continue to fight to the last man,
if their enemies stand before them.
And as they use all prudent methods to avoid the endangering their own men, and if it
is possible let all the action and danger fall upon the troops that they hire, so if it
becomes necessary for themselves to engage, they then charge with as much courage as they
avoided it before with prudence: nor is it a fierce charge at first, but it increases by
degrees; and as they continue in action, they grow more obstinate and press harder upon
the enemy, insomuch that they will much sooner die than give ground; for the certainty
that their children will be well looked after when they are dead, frees them from all that
anxiety concerning them which often masters men of great courage; and thus they are
animated by a noble and invincible resolution. Their skill in military affairs increases
their courage; and the wise sentiments which, according to the laws of their country, are
instilled into them in their education, give additional vigor to their minds: for as they
do not undervalue life so as prodigally to throw it away, they are not so indecently fond
of it as to preserve it by base and unbecoming methods. In the greatest heat of action,
the bravest of their youth, who have devoted themselves to that service, single out the
general of their enemies, set on him either openly or by ambuscade, pursue him everywhere,
and when spent and wearied out, are relieved by others, who never give over the pursuit;
either attacking him with close weapons when they can get near him, or with those which
wound at a distance, when others get in between them; so that unless he secures himself by
flight, they seldom fail at last to kill or to take him prisoner.
When they have obtained a victory, they kill as few as possible, and are much more bent
on taking many prisoners than on killing those that fly before them; nor do they ever let
their men so loose in the pursuit of their enemies, as not to retain an entire body still
in order; so that if they have been forced to engage the last of their battalions before
they could gain the day, they will rather let their enemies all escape than pursue them,
when their own army is in disorder; remembering well what has often fallen out to
themselves, that when the main body of their army has been quite defeated and broken, when
their enemies imagining the victory obtained, have let themselves loose into an irregular
pursuit, a few of them that lay for a reserve, waiting a fit opportunity, have fallen on
them in their chase, and when straggling in disorder and apprehensive of no danger, but
counting the day their own, have turned the whole action, and wrestling out of their hands
a victory that seemed certain and undoubted, while the vanquished have suddenly become
victorious.
It is hard to tell whether they are more dexterous in laying or avoiding ambushes. They
sometimes seem to fly when it is far from their thoughts; and when they intend to give
ground, they do it so that it is very hard to find out their design. If they see they are
ill posted, or are like to be overpowered by numbers, they then either march off in the
night with great silence, or by some stratagem delude their enemies: if they retire in the
daytime, they do it in such order, that it is no less dangerous to fall upon them in a
retreat than in a march. They fortify their camps with a deep and large trench, and throw
up the earth that is dug out of it for a wall; nor do they employ only their slaves in
this, but the whole army works at it, except those that are then upon the guard; so that
when so many hands are at work, a great line and a strong fortification are finished in so
short a time that it is scarce credible. Their armor is very strong for defence, and yet
is not so heavy as to make them uneasy in their marches; they can even swim with it. All
that are trained up to war practice swimming. Both horse and foot make great use of
arrows, and are very expert. They have no swords, but fight with a pole-axe that is both
sharp and heavy, by which they thrust or strike down an enemy. They are very good at
finding out warlike machines, and disguise them so well, that the enemy does not perceive
them till he feels the use of them; so that he cannot prepare such a defence as would
render them useless; the chief consideration had in the making them is that they may be
easily carried and managed.
If they agree to a truce, they observe it so religiously that no provocations will make
them break it. They never lay their enemies' country waste nor burn their corn, and even
in their marches they take all possible care that neither horse nor foot may tread it
down, for they do not know but that they may have use for it-themselves. They hurt no man
whom they find disarmed, unless he is a spy. When a town is surrendered to them, they take
it into their protection; and when they carry a place by storm, they never plunder it, but
put those only to the sword that opposed the rendering of it up, and make the rest of the
garrison slaves, but for the other inhabitants, they do them no hurt; and if any of them
had advised a surrender, they give them good rewards out of the estates of those that they
condemn, and distribute the rest among their auxiliary troops, but they themselves take no
share of the spoil.
When a war is ended, they do not oblige their friends to reimburse their expenses; but
they obtain them of the conquered, either in money, which they keep for the next occasion,
or in lands, out of which a constant revenue is to be paid them; by many increases, the
revenue which they draw out from several countries on such occasions, is now risen to
above 700,000 ducats a year. They send some of their own people to receive these revenues,
who have orders to live magnificently, and like princes, by which means they consume much
of it upon the place; and either bring over the rest to Utopia, or lend it to that nation
in which it lies. This they most commonly do, unless some great occasion, which falls out
but very seldom, should oblige them to call for it all. It is out of these lands that they
assign rewards to such as they encourage to adventure on desperate attempts. If any prince
that engages in war with them is making preparations for invading their country, they
prevent him, and make his country the seat of the war; for they do not willingly suffer
any war to break in upon their island; and if that should happen, they would only defend
themselves by their own people, but would not call for auxiliary troops to their
assistance.
Of the Religions of the Utopians
THERE are several sorts of religions, not only in different parts of the island, but
even in every town; some worshipping the sun, others the moon or one of the planets: some
worship such men as have been eminent in former times for virtue or glory, not only as
ordinary deities, but as the supreme God: yet the greater and wiser sort of them worship
none of these, but adore one eternal, invisible, infinite, and incomprehensible Deity; as
a being that is far above all our apprehensions, that is spread over the whole universe,
not by His bulk, but by His power and virtue; Him they call the Father of All, and
acknowledge that the beginnings, the increase, the progress, the vicissitudes, and the end
of all things come only from Him; nor do they offer divine honors to any but to Him alone.
And indeed, though they differ concerning other things, yet all agree in this, that they
think there is one Supreme Being that made and governs the world, whom they call in the
language of their country Mithras. They differ in this, that one thinks the god whom he
worships is this Supreme Being, and another thinks that his idol is that God; but they all
agree in one principle, that whoever is this Supreme Being, He is also that great Essence
to whose glory and majesty all honors are ascribed by the consent of all nations.
By degrees, they fall off from the various superstitions that are among them, and grow
up to that one religion that is the best and most in request; and there is no doubt to be
made but that all the others had vanished long ago, if some of those who advised them to
lay aside their superstitions had not met with some unhappy accident, which being
considered as inflicted by heaven, made them afraid that the God whose worship had like to
have been abandoned, had interposed, and revenged themselves on those who despised their
authority. After they had heard from us an account of the doctrine, the course of life,
and the miracles of Christ, and of the wonderful constancy of so many martyrs, whose
blood, so willingly offered up by them, was the chief occasion of spreading their religion
over a vast number of nations; it is not to be imagined how inclined they were to receive
it. I shall not determine whether this proceeded from any secret inspiration of God, or
whether it was because t seemed so favorable to that community of goods, which is an
opinion so particular as well as so dear to them; since they perceived that Christ and his
followers lived by that rule and that it was still kept up in some communities among the
sincerest sort of Christians. From whichsoever of these motives it might be, true it is
that many of them came over to our religion, and were initiated into it by baptism. But as
two of our number were dead, so none of the four that survived were in priest's orders; we
therefore could only baptize them; so that to our great regret they could not partake of
the other sacraments, that can only be administered by priests; but they are instructed
concerning them, and long most vehemently for them. They have had great disputes among
themselves, whether one chosen by them to be a priest would not be thereby qualified to do
all the things that belong to that character, even though he had no authority derived from
the Pope; and they seemed to be resolved to choose some for that employment, but they had
not done it when I left them.
Those among them that have not received our religion, do not fright any from it, and
use none ill that goes over to it; so that all the while I was there, one man was only
punished on this occasion. He being newly baptized, did, notwithstanding all that we could
say to the contrary, dispute publicly concerning the Christian religion with more zeal
than discretion; and with so much heat, that he not only preferred our worship to theirs,
but condemned all their rites as profane; and cried out against all that adhered to them,
as impious and sacrilegious persons, that were to be damned to everlasting burnings. Upon
his having frequently preached in this manner, he was seized, and after trial he was
condemned to banishment, not for having disparaged their religion, but for his inflaming
the people to sedition: for this is one of their most ancient laws, that no man ought to
be punished for his religion. At the first constitution of their government, Utopus having
understood that before his coming among them the old inhabitants had been engaged in great
quarrels concerning religion, by which they were so divided among themselves, that he
found it an easy thing to conquer them, since instead of uniting their forces against him,
every different party in religion fought by themselves; after he had subdued them, he made
a law that every man might be of what religion he pleased, and might endeavor to draw
others to it by force of argument, and by amicable and modest ways, but without bitterness
against those of other opinions; but that he ought to use no other force but that of
persuasion, and was neither to mix with it reproaches nor violence; and such as did
otherwise were to be condemned to banishment or slavery.
This law was made by Utopus, not only for preserving the public peace, which he saw
suffered much by daily contentions and irreconcilable heats, but because he thought the
interest of religion itself required it. He judged it not fit to determine anything
rashly, and seemed to doubt whether those different forms of religion might not all come
from God, who might inspire men in a different manner, and be pleased with this variety;
he therefore thought it indecent and foolish for any man to threaten and terrify another
to make him believe what did not appear to him to be true. And supposing that only one
religion was really true, and the rest false, he imagined that the native force of truth
would at last break forth and shine bright, if supported only by the strength of argument,
and attended to with a gentle and unprejudiced mind; while, on the other hand, if such
debates were carried on with violence and tumults, as the most wicked are always the most
obstinate, so the best and most holy religion might be choked with superstition, as corn
is with briars and thorns.
He therefore left men wholly to their liberty, that they might be free to believe as
they should see cause; only he made a solemn and severe law against such as should so far
degenerate from the dignity of human nature as to think that our souls died with our
bodies, or that the world was governed by chance, without a wise overruling Providence:
for they all formerly believed that there was a state of rewards and punishments to the
good and bad after this life; and they now look on those that think otherwise as scarce
fit to be counted men, since they degrade so noble a being as the soul, and reckon it no
better than a beast's: thus they are far from looking on such men as fit for human
society, or to be citizens of a well-ordered commonwealth; since a man of such principles
must needs, as oft as he dares do it, despise all their laws and customs: for there is no
doubt to be made that a man who is afraid of nothing but the law, and apprehends nothing
after death, will not scruple to break through all the laws of his country, either by
fraud or force, when by this means he may satisfy his appetites. They never raise any that
hold these maxims, either to honors or offices, nor employ them in any public trust, but
despise them, as men of base and sordid minds: yet they do not punish them, because they
lay this down as a maxim that a man cannot make himself believe anything he pleases; nor
do they drive any to dissemble their thoughts by threatenings, so that men are not tempted
to lie or disguise their opinions; which being a sort of fraud, is abhorred by the
Utopians. They take care indeed to prevent their disputing in defence of these opinions,
especially before the common people; but they suffer, and even encourage them to dispute
concerning them in private with their priests and other grave men, being confident that
they will be cured of those mad opinions by having reason laid before them.
There are many among them that run far to the other extreme, though it is neither
thought an ill nor unreasonable opinion, and therefore is not at all discouraged. They
think that the souls of beasts are immortal, though far inferior to the dignity of the
human soul, and not capable of so great a happiness. They are almost all of them very
firmly persuaded that good men will be infinitely happy in another state; so that though
they are compassionate to all that are sick, yet they lament no man's death, except they
see him loth to depart with life; for they look on this as a very ill presage, as if the
soul, conscious to itself of guilt, and quite hopeless, was afraid to leave the body, from
some secret hints of approaching misery. They think that such a man's appearance before
God cannot be acceptable to him, who being called on, does not go out cheerfully, but is
backward and unwilling, and is, as it were, dragged to it. They are struck with horror
when they see any die in this manner, and carry them out in silence and with sorrow, and
praying God that he would be merciful to the errors of the departed soul, they lay the
body in the ground; but when any die cheerfully, and full of hope, they do not mourn for
them, but sing hymns when they carry out their bodies, and commending their souls very
earnestly to God: their whole behavior is then rather grave than sad, they burn the body,
and set up a pillar where the pile was made, with an inscription to the honor of the
deceased.
When they come from the funeral, they discourse of his good life and worthy actions,
but speak of nothing oftener and with more pleasure than of his serenity at the hour of
death. They think such respect paid to the memory of good men is both the greatest
incitement to engage others to follow their example, and the most acceptable worship that
can be offered them; for they believe that though by the imperfection of human sight they
are invisible to us, yet they are present among us, and hear those discourses that pass
concerning themselves. They believe it inconsistent with the happiness of departed souls
not to be at liberty to be where they will, and do not imagine them capable of the
ingratitude of not desiring to see those friends with whom they lived on earth in the
strictest bonds of love and kindness: besides they are persuaded that good men after death
have these affections and all other good dispositions increased rather than diminished,
and therefore conclude that they are still among the living, and observe all they say or
do. From hence they engage in all their affairs with the greater confidence of success, as
trusting to their protection; while this opinion of the presence of their ancestors is a
restraint that prevents their engaging in ill designs.
They despise and laugh at auguries, and the other vain and superstitious ways of
divination, so much observed among other nations; but have great reverence for such
miracles as cannot flow from any of the powers of nature, and look on them as effects and
indications of the presence of the Supreme Being, of which they say many instances have
occurred among them; and that sometimes their public prayers, which upon great and
dangerous occasions they have solemnly put up to God, with assured confidence of being
heard, have been answered in a miraculous manner.
They think the contemplating God in His works, and the adoring Him for them, is a very
acceptable piece of worship to Him.
There are many among them, that upon a motive of religion neglect learning, and apply
themselves to no sort of study; nor do they allow themselves any leisure time, but are
perpetually employed. believing that by the good things that a man does he secures to
himself that happiness that comes after death. Some of these visit the sick; others mend
highways, cleanse ditches, repair bridges, or dig turf, gravel, or stones. Others fell and
cleave timber, and bring wood, corn, and other necessaries on carts into their towns. Nor
do these only serve the public, but they serve even private men, more than the slaves
themselves do; for if there is anywhere a rough, hard, and sordid piece of work to be
done, from which many are frightened by the labor and loathsomeness of it, if not the
despair of accomplishing it, they cheerfully, and of their own accord, take that to their
share; and by that means, as they ease others very much, so they afflict themselves, and
spend their whole life in hard labor; and yet they do not value themselves upon this, nor
lessen other people's credit to raise their own; but by their stooping to such servile
employments, they are so far from being despised, that they are so much the more esteemed
by the whole nation
Of these there are two sorts; some live unmarried and chaste, and abstain from eating
any sort of flesh; and thus weaning themselves from all the pleasures of the present life,
which they account hurtful, they pursue, even by the hardest and painfullest methods
possible, that blessedness which they hope for hereafter; and the nearer they approach to
it, they are the more cheerful and earnest in their endeavors after it. Another sort of
them is less willing to put themselves to much toil, and therefore prefer a married state
to a single one; and as they do not deny themselves the pleasure of it, so they think the
begetting of children is a debt which they owe to human nature and to their country; nor
do they avoid any pleasure that does not hinder labor, and therefore eat flesh so much the
more willingly, as they find that by this means they are the more able to work; the
Utopians look upon these as the wiser sect, but they esteem the others as the most holy.
They would indeed laugh at any man, who from the principles of reason would prefer an
unmarried state to a married, or a life of labor to an easy life; but they reverence and
admire such as do it from the motives of religion. There is nothing in which they are more
cautious than in giving their opinion positively concerning any sort of religion. The men
that lead those severe lives are called in the language of their country Brutheskas, which
answers to those we call religious orders.
Their priests are men of eminent piety, and therefore they are but few for there are
only thirteen in every town, one for every temple; but when they go to war, seven of these
go out with their forces, and seven others are chosen to supply their room in their
absence; but these enter again upon their employment when they return; and those who
served in their absence attend upon the high-priest, till vacancies fall by death; for
there is one set over all the rest. They are chosen by the people as the other magistrates
are, by suffrages given in secret, for preventing of factions; and when they are chosen
they are consecrated by the College of Priests. The care of all sacred things, the worship
of God, and an inspection into the manners of the people, are committed to them. It is a
reproach to a man to be sent for by any of them, or for them to speak to him in secret,
for that always gives some suspicion. All that is incumbent on them is only to exhort and
admonish the people; for the power of correcting and punishing ill men belongs wholly to
the Prince and to the other magistrates. The severest thing that the priest does is the
excluding those that are desperately wicked from joining in their worship. There is not
any sort of punishment more dreaded by them than this, for as it loads them with infamy,
so it fills them with secret horrors, such is their reverence to their religion; nor will
their bodies be long exempted from their share of trouble; for if they do not very quickly
satisfy the priests of the truth of their repentance, they are seized on by the Senate,
and punished for their impiety. The education of youth belongs to the priests, yet they do
not take so much care of instructing them in letters as in forming their minds and manners
aright; they use all possible methods to infuse very early into the tender and flexible
minds of children such opinions as are both good in themselves and will be useful to their
country. For when deep impressions of these things are made at that age, they follow men
through the whole course of their lives, and conduce much to preserve the peace of the
government, which suffers by nothing more than by vices that rise out of illopinions. The
wives of their priests are the most extraordinary women of the whole country; sometimes
the women themselves are made priests, though that falls out but seldom, nor are any but
ancient widows chosen into that order.
None of the magistrates has greater honor paid him than is paid the priests; and if
they should happen to commit any crime, they would not be questioned for it. Their
punishment is left to God, and to their own consciences; for they do not think it lawful
to lay hands on any man, how wicked soever he is, that has been in a peculiar manner
dedicated to God; nor do they find any great inconvenience in this, both because they have
so few priests, and because these are chosen with much caution, so that it must be a very
unusual thing to find one who merely out of regard to his virtue, and for his being
esteemed a singularly good man, was raised up to so great a dignity, degenerate into
corruption and vice. And if such a thing should fall out, for man is a changeable
creature, yet there being few priests, and these having no authority but what rises out of
the respect that is paid them, nothing of great consequence to the public can proceed from
the indemnity that the priests enjoy.
They have indeed very few of them, lest greater numbers sharing in the same honor might
make the dignity of that order which they esteem so highly to sink in its reputation. They
also think it difficult to find out many of such an exalted pitch of goodness, as to be
equal to that dignity which demands the exercise of more than ordinary virtues. Nor are
the priests in greater veneration among them than they are among their neighboring
nations, as you may imagine by that which I think gives occasion for it.
When the Utopians engage in battle, the priests who accompany them to the war,
apparelled in their sacred vestments, kneel down during the action, in a place not far
from the field; and lifting up their hands to heaven, pray, first for peace, and then for
victory to their own side, and particularly that it may be gained without the effusion of
much blood on either side; and when the victory turns to their side, they run in among
their own men to restrain their fury; and if any of their enemies see them, or call to
them, they are preserved by that means; and such as can come so near them as to touch
their garments, have not only their lives, but their fortunes secured to them; it is upon
this account that all the nations round about consider them so much, and treat them with
such reverence, that they have been often no less able to preserve their own people from
the fury of their enemies, than to save their enemies from their rage; for it has
sometimes fallen out, that when their armies have been in disorder, and forced to fly, so
that their enemies were running upon the slaughter and spoil, the priests by interposing
have separated them from one another, and stopped the effusion of more blood; so that by
their mediation a peace has been concluded on very reasonable terms; nor is there any
nation about them so fierce, cruel, or barbarous as not to look upon their persons as
sacred and inviolable.
The first and the last day of the month, and of the year, is a festival. They measure
their months by the course of the moon, and their years by the course of the sun. The
first days are called in their language the Cynemernes, and the last the Trapemernes;
which answers in our language to the festival that begins, or ends, the season.
They have magnificent temples, that are not only nobly built, but extremely spacious;
which is the more necessary, as they have so few of them; they are a little dark within,
which proceeds not from any error in the architecture, but is done with design; for their
priests think that too much light dissipates the thoughts, and that a more moderate degree
of it both recollects the mind and raises devotion. Though there are many different forms
of religion among them, yet all these, how various soever, agree in the main point, which
is the worshipping of the Divine Essence; and therefore there is nothing to be seen or
heard in their temples in which the several persuasions among them may not agree; for
every sect performs those rites that are peculiar to it, in their private houses, nor is
there anything in the public worship that contradicts the particular ways of those
different sects. There are no images for God in their temples, so that everyone may
represent Him to his thoughts, according to the way of his religion; nor do they call this
one God by any other name than that of Mithras, which is the common name by which they all
express the Divine Essence, whatsoever otherwise they think it to be; nor are there any
prayers among them but such as every one of them may use without prejudice to his own
opinion.
They meet in their temples on the evening of the festival that concludes a season: and
not having yet broke their fast, they thank God for their good success during that year or
month, which is then at an end; and the next day being that which begins the new season,
they meet early in their temples, to pray for the happy progress of all their affairs
during that period upon which they then enter. In the festival which concludes the period,
before they go to the temple, both wives and children fall on their knees before their
husbands or parents, and confess everything in which they have either erred or failed in
their duty, and beg pardon for it. Thus all little discontents in families are removed,
that they may offer up their devotions with a pure and serene mind; for they hold it a
great impiety to enter upon them with disturbed thoughts, or with a consciousness of their
bearing hatred or anger in their hearts to any person whatsoever; and think that they
should become liable to severe punishments if they presumed to offer sacrifices without
cleansing their hearts, and reconciling all their differences. In the temples, the two
sexes are separated, the men go to the right hand, and the women to the left; and the
males and females all place themselves before the head and master or mistress of that
family to which they belong; so that those who have the government of them at home may see
their deportment in public; and they intermingle them so, that the younger and the older
may be set by one another; for if the younger sort were all set together, they would
perhaps trifle away that time too much in which they ought to beget in themselves that
religious dread of the Supreme Being, which is the greatest and almost the only incitement
to virtue.
They offer up no living creature in sacrifice, nor do they think it suitable to the
Divine Being, from whose bounty it is that these creatures have derived their lives, to
take pleasure in their deaths, or the offering up of their blood. They burn incense and
other sweet odors, and have a great number of wax lights during their worship; not out of
any imagination that such oblations can add anything to the divine nature, which even
prayers cannot do; but as it is a harmless and pure way of worshipping God, so they think
those sweet savors and lights, together with some other ceremonies, by a secret and
unaccountable virtue, elevate men's souls, and inflame them with greater energy and
cheerfulness during the divine worship.
All the people appear in the temples in white garments, but the priest's vestments are
parti-colored, and both the work and colors are wonderful. They are made of no rich
materials, for they are neither embroidered nor set with precious stones, but are composed
of the plumes of several birds, laid together with so much art and so neatly, that the
true value of them is far beyond the costliest materials. They say that in the ordering
and placing those plumes some dark mysteries are represented, which pass down among their
priests in a secret tradition concerning them; and that they are as hieroglyphics, putting
them in mind of the blessings that they have received from God, and of their duties both
to Him and to their neighbors. As soon as the priest appears in those ornaments, they all
fall prostrate on the ground, with so much reverence and so deep a silence that such as
look on cannot but be struck with it, as if it were the effect of the appearance of a
deity. After they have been for some time in this posture, they all stand up, upon a sign
given by the priest, and sing hymns to the honor of God, some musical instruments playing
all the while. These are quite of another form than those used among us: but as many of
them are much sweeter than ours, so others are made use of by us.
Yet in one thing they very much exceed us; all their music, both vocal and
instrumental, is adapted to imitate and express the passions, and is so happily suited to
every occasion, that whether the subject of the hymn be cheerful or formed to soothe or
trouble the mind, or to express grief or remorse, the music takes the impression of
whatever is represented, affects and kindles the passions, and works the sentiments deep
into the hearts of the hearers. When this is done, both priests and people offer up very
solemn prayers to God in a set form of words; and these are so composed, that whatsoever
is pronounced by the whole assembly may be likewise applied by every man in particular to
his own condition; in these they acknowledge God to be the author and governor of the
world, and the fountain of all the good they receive, and therefore offer up to Him their
thanksgiving; and in particular bless Him for His goodness in ordering it so that they are
born under the happiest government in the world, and are of a religion which they hope is
the truest of all others: but if they are mistaken, and if there is either a better
government or a religion more acceptable to God, they implore Him goodness to let them
know it, vowing that they resolve to follow Him whithersoever He leads them. But if their
government is the best and their religion the truest, then they pray that He may fortify
them in it, and bring all the world both to the same rules of life, and to the same
opinions concerning Himself; unless, according to the unsearchableness of His mind, He is
pleased with a variety of religions. Then they pray that God may give them an easy passage
at last to Himself; not presuming to set limits to Him, how early or late it should be;
but if it may be wished for, without derogating from His supreme authority, they desire to
be quickly delivered, and to be taken to Himself, though by the most terrible kind of
death, rather than to be detained long from seeing Him by the most prosperous course of
life. When this prayer is ended, they all fall down again upon the ground, and after a
little while they rise up, go home to dinner, and spend the rest of the day in diversion
or military exercises.
Thus have I described to you, as particularly as I could, the constitution of that
commonwealth, which I do not only think the best in the world, but indeed the only
commonwealth that truly deserves that name. In all other places it is visible, that while
people talk of a commonwealth, every man only seeks his own wealth; but there, where no
man has any property, all men zealously pursue the good of the public: and, indeed, it is
no wonder to see men act so differently; for in other commonwealths, every man knows that
unless he provides for himself, how flourishing soever the commonwealth may be, he must
die of hunger; so that he sees the necessity of preferring his own concerns to the public;
but in Utopia, where every man has a right to everything, they all know that if care is
taken to keep the public stores full, no private man can want anything; for among them
there is no unequal distribution, so that no man is poor, none in necessity; and though no
man has anything, yet they are all rich; for what can make a man so rich as to lead a
serene and cheerful life, free from anxieties; neither apprehending want himself, nor
vexed with the endless complaints of his wife? He is not afraid of the misery of his
children, nor is he contriving how to raise a portion for his daughters, but is secure in
this, that both he and his wife, his children and grandchildren, to as many generations as
he can fancy, will all live both plentifully and happily; since among them there is no
less care taken of those who were once engaged in labor, but grow afterward unable to
follow it, than there is elsewhere of these that continue still employed.
I would gladly hear any man compare the justice that is among them with that of all
other nations; among whom, may I perish, if I see anything that looks either like justice
or equity: for what justice is there in this, that a nobleman, a goldsmith, a banker, or
any other man, that either does nothing at all, or at best is employed in things that are
of no use to the public, should live in great luxury and splendor, upon what is so ill
acquired; and a mean man, a carter, a smith, or a ploughman, that works harder even than
the beasts themselves, and is employed in labors so necessary, that no commonwealth could
hold out a year without them, can only earn so poor a livelihood, and must lead so
miserable a life, that the condition of the beasts is much better than theirs? For as the
beasts do not work so constantly, so they feed almost as well, and with more pleasure; and
have no anxiety about what is to come, whilst these men are depressed by a barren and
fruitless employment, and tormented with the apprehensions of want in their old age; since
that which they get by their daily labor does but maintain them at present, and is
consumed as fast as it comes in, there is no overplus left to lay up for old age.
Is not that government both unjust and ungrateful, that is so prodigal of its favors to
those that are called gentlemen, or goldsmiths, or such others who are idle, or live
either by flattery, or by contriving the arts of vain pleasure; and on the other hand,
takes no care of those of a meaner sort, such as ploughmen, colliers, and smiths, without
whom it could not subsist? But after the public has reaped all the advantage of their
service, and they come to be oppressed with age, sickness, and want, all their labors and
the good they have done is forgotten; and all the recompense given them is that they are
left to die in great misery. The richer sort are often endeavoring to bring the hire of
laborers lower, not only by their fraudulent practices, but by the laws which they procure
to be made to that effect; so that though it is a thing most unjust in itself, to give
such small rewards to those who deserve so well of the public, yet they have given those
hardships the name and color of justice, by procuring laws to be made for regulating them.
Therefore I must say that, as I hope for mercy, I can have no other notion of all the
other governments that I see or know, than that they are a conspiracy of the rich, who on
pretence of managing the public only pursue their private ends, and devise all the ways
and arts they can find out; first, that they may, without danger, preserve all that they
have so ill acquired, and then that they may engage the poor to toil and labor for them at
as low rates as possible, and oppress them as much as they please. And if they can but
prevail to get these contrivances established by the show of public authority, which is
considered as the representative of the whole people, then they are accounted laws. Yet
these wicked men after they have, by a most insatiable covetousness, divided that among
themselves with which all the rest might have been well supplied, are far from that
happiness that is enjoyed among the Utopians: for the use as well as the desire of money
being extinguished, much anxiety and great occasions of mischief is cut off with it. And
who does not see that the frauds, thefts, robberies, quarrels, tumults, contentions,
seditions, murders, treacheries, and witchcrafts, which are indeed rather punished than
restrained by the severities of law, would all fall off, if money were not any more valued
by the world? Men's fears, solicitudes, cares, labors, and watchings, would all perish in
the same moment with the value of money: even poverty itself, for the relief of which
money seems most necessary, would fall. But, in order to the apprehending this aright,
take one instance.
Consider any year that has been so unfruitful that many thousands have died of hunger;
and yet if at the end of that year a survey was made of the granaries of all the rich men
that have hoarded up the corn, it would be found that there was enough among them to have
prevented all that consumption of men that perished in misery; and that if it had been
distributed among them, none would have felt the terrible effects of that scarcity; so
easy a thing would it be to supply all the necessities of life, if that blessed thing
called money, which is pretended to be invented for procuring them, was not really the
only thing that obstructed their being procured!
I do not doubt but rich men are sensible of this, and that they well know how much a
greater happiness it is to want nothing necessary than to abound in many superfluities,
and to be rescued out of so much misery than to abound with so much wealth; and I cannot
think but the sense of every man's interest, added to the authority of Christ's commands,
who as He was infinitely wise, knew what was best, and was not less good in discovering it
to us, would have drawn all the world over to the laws of the Utopians, if pride, that
plague of human nature, that source of so much misery, did not hinder it; for this vice
does not measure happiness so much by its own conveniences as by the miseries of others;
and would not be satisfied with being thought a goddess, if none were left that were
miserable, over whom she might insult. Pride thinks its own happiness shines the brighter
by comparing it with the misfortunes of other persons; that by displaying its own wealth,
they may feel their poverty the more sensibly. This is that infernal serpent that creeps
into the breasts of mortals, and possesses them too much to be easily drawn out; and
therefore I am glad that the Utopians have fallen upon this form of government, in which I
wish that all the world could be so wise as to imitate them; for they have indeed laid
down such a scheme and foundation of policy, that as men live happily under it, so it is
like to be of great continuance; for they having rooted out of the minds of their people
all the seeds both of ambition and faction, there is no danger of any commotion at home;
which alone has been the ruin of many States that seemed otherwise to be well secured; but
as long as they live in peace at home, and are governed by such good laws, the envy of all
their neighboring princes, who have often though in vain attempted their ruin, will never
be able to put their State into any commotion or disorder.
When Raphael had thus made an end of speaking, though many things occurred to me, both
concerning the manners and laws of that people, that seemed very absurd, as well in their
way of making war, as in their notions of religion and divine matters; together with
several other particulars, but chiefly what seemed the foundation of all the rest, their
living in common, without the use of money, by which all nobility, magnificence, splendor,
and majesty, which, according to the common opinion, are the true ornaments of a nation,
would be quite taken away; -yet since I perceived that Raphael was weary, and was not sure
whether he could easily bear contradiction, remembering that he had taken notice of some
who seemed to think they were bound in honor to support the credit of their own wisdom, by
finding out something to censure in all other men's inventions, besides their own; I only
commended their constitution, and the account he had given of it in general; and so taking
him by the hand, carried him to supper, and told him I would find out some other time for
examining this subject more particularly, and for discoursing more copiously upon it; and
indeed I shall be glad to embrace an opportunity of doing it. In the meanwhile, though it
must be confessed that he is both a very learned man, and a person who has obtained a
great knowledge of the world, I cannot perfectly agree to everything he has related;
however, there are many things in the Commonwealth of Utopia that I rather wish, than
hope, to see followed in our governments.
[End.]
The Internet Wiretap edition of UTOPIA, by SIR THOMAS MORE (Written in 1516.)
From Ideal Commonwealths, P.F. Collier & Son, New York. (c)1901 The Colonial
Press, expired.
Prepared by Kirk Crady <kcrady@polaris.cv.nrao.edu> from scanner output provided by Internet Wiretap.
HTML by Paul Halsall.
This book is in the public domain, released July 1993.