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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 companion 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

-1-

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

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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 new discovered 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."

-3-

"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

-4-

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
grave; he 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.'

-5-

"'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

-6-

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

-7-

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 ?'

"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--'

-8-

"'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.

-9-

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.

-10-

"'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

-11-

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

-12-

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

-13-

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."

-14-

"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

-15-

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 ill-usage,
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

-16-

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

-17-

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

-18-

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

-19-

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

-20-

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

-21-

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.

BOOK II: 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.

-22-

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 compassed 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

-23-

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.

BOOK II: 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.

-24-

BOOK II: 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

-25-

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

-26-

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 buildings 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.

BOOK II: 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

-27-

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

-28-

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

-29-

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 above 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.

BOOK II: 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

-30-

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 them either to betray their own side,
or at least to desert it, and that it is the best
means of raising mutual jealousies among

-31-

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

-32-

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

-33-

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

-34-

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

-35-

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

-36-

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

-37-

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 rabble 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

-38-

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,

-39-

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

-40-

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

-41-

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 printing-
presses, 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.

BOOK II: 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

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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

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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

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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

-45-

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

-46-

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.

BOOK II: 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

-47-

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

-48-

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

-49-

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

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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

-51-

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

-52-

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.

BOOK II: 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

-53-

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

-54-

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

-55-

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.

-56-

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 ill-
opinions. 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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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. THE END

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