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 lantern.” 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 honour, 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 candour and affection, that there is not, perhaps, above one or two anywhere to be found, that is in all respects so perfect a friend: he is extraordinarily modest, there is no artifice in him, and yet no man has more of a prudent simplicity. His conversation was so pleasant and so innocently cheerful, that his company in a great measure lessened any longings to go back to my country, and to my wife and children, which an absence of four months had quickened very much. One day, as I was returning home from mass at St. Mary’s, which is the chief church, and the most frequented of any in Antwerp, I saw him, by accident, talking with a stranger, who seemed past the flower of his age; his face was tanned, he had a long beard, and his cloak was hanging carelessly about him, so that, by his looks and habit, I concluded he was a seaman. As soon as Peter saw me, he came and saluted me, and as I was returning his civility, he took me aside, and pointing to him with whom he had been discoursing, he said, “Do you see that man? I was just thinking to bring him to you.” I answered, “He should have been very welcome on your account.” “And on his own too,” replied he, “if you knew the man, for there is none alive that can give so copious an account of unknown nations and countries as he can do, which I know you very much desire.” “Then,” said I, “I did not guess amiss, for at first sight I took him for a seaman.” “But you are much mistaken,” said he, “for he has not sailed as a seaman, but as a traveller, or rather a philosopher. This Raphael, who from his family carries the name of Hythloday, is not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but is eminently learned in the Greek, having applied himself more particularly to that than to the former, because he had given himself much to philosophy, in which he knew that the Romans have left us nothing that is valuable, except what is to be found in Seneca and Cicero. He is a Portuguese by birth, and was so desirous of seeing the world, that he divided his estate among his brothers, ran the same hazard as Americus Vesputius, 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 heavens 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 Castalians, 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 past 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 Vesputius 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 waggons when they travelled over land: he sent with them a very faithful guide, who was to introduce and recommend them to such other princes as they had a mind to see: and after many days’ journey, they came to towns, and cities, and to commonwealths, that were both happily governed and well peopled. Under the equator, and as far on both sides of it as the sun moves, there lay vast deserts that were parched with the perpetual heat of the sun; the soil was withered, all things looked dismally, and all places were either quite uninhabited, or abounded with wild beasts and serpents, and some few men, that were neither less wild nor less cruel than the beasts themselves. But, as they went farther, a new scene opened, all things grew milder, the air less burning, the soil more verdant, and even the beasts were less wild: and, at last, there were nations, towns, and cities, that had not only mutual commerce among themselves and with their neighbours, but traded, both by sea and land, to very remote countries. There they found the conveniencies 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, afterwards, 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 favour 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 civilised 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; we made no inquiries after monsters, than which nothing is more common; for everywhere one may hear of ravenous dogs and wolves, and cruel men-eaters, but it is not so easy to find states that are well and wisely governed.
Henry VIII, the undefeated King of England, possessed all the virtues that suit a great monarch. He had some serious disagreements with Charles, the most serene Prince of Castile. He sent me to Flanders as his ambassador to negotiate a settlement between them. My colleague and companion was the incomparable Cuthbert Tonstal. The King had recently appointed him Master of the Rolls, to universal approval. But I will say nothing about him. This is not because I fear people will doubt a friend’s praise. Rather, his learning and virtues are too great for me to do them justice. They are also so well known that they need no praise from me. Otherwise, as the proverb says, I would “Show the sun with a lantern.” The Prince’s representatives met us at Bruges, as agreed. They were all worthy men. Their leader and most prominent member was the Margrave of Bruges. But George Temse, the Provost of Casselsee, was considered the wisest and spoke for the others. Both training and natural talent had made him eloquent. He knew the law very well and had great ability. His long experience in public affairs had also made him skilled at untangling complicated matters. We met several times without reaching an agreement. They then went to Brussels for a few days to learn the Prince’s wishes. Since our business allowed it, I went to Antwerp. Among the many people who visited me there, none was more welcome than Peter Giles, a native of Antwerp. He is a man of great honor and holds a respected position in his town, though lower than he deserves. I doubt that a more learned or better-mannered young man can be found anywhere. He is both thoroughly decent and deeply knowledgeable. He is courteous to everyone, especially kind to his friends, and full of honesty and affection. Perhaps only one or two people anywhere could be found who are such perfect friends in every respect. He is extraordinarily modest and entirely free of deceit, yet no one combines greater good sense with straightforwardness. His conversation was so pleasant, cheerful, and innocent that his company greatly eased my homesickness. Four months away had made me long deeply for my country, my wife, and my children. One day, I was returning home from Mass at St. Mary’s, Antwerp’s main church and its most frequently attended. By chance, I saw Peter talking with a stranger who seemed past his prime. His face was tanned, he had a long beard, and his cloak hung loosely around him. From his appearance and clothing, I took him for a sailor. As soon as Peter saw me, he came over and greeted me. As I returned his greeting, he took me aside and pointed to the man he had been speaking with. “Do you see that man?” he said. “I was just thinking of bringing him to meet you.” “He would have been very welcome for your sake,” I answered. “And for his own too,” Peter replied, “if you knew him. No one alive can give such a full account of unfamiliar nations and countries. I know how much you want to hear about them.” “Then my guess was not far wrong,” I said. “At first sight, I took him for a sailor.” “But you are quite mistaken,” he said. “He has sailed not as a sailor, but as a traveler, or rather a philosopher. His name is Raphael, and his family name is Hythloday. He knows Latin, but his knowledge of Greek is outstanding. He has devoted more attention to Greek because he has devoted himself so deeply to philosophy. In that field, he knew the Romans had left us nothing valuable except the works of Seneca and Cicero. “He is Portuguese by birth. He was so eager to see the world that he divided his estate among his brothers. He shared the risks of Amerigo Vespucci and joined three of the four voyages whose accounts are now published. But he did not return with Vespucci from the last of these. He persuaded Vespucci, almost by force, to let him stay behind. He became one of twenty-four men left at the farthest point reached during their last voyage to New Castile. Being left there greatly pleased him. He cared more about traveling than about returning home to be buried in his own country. He often said that the road to heaven was the same from every place. A man without a grave, he said, still had the heavens above him. “Yet this attitude would have cost him dearly if God had not been very gracious to him. He traveled through many countries with five Castilians. At last, through extraordinary good fortune, he reached Ceylon and then Calicut. There, very fortunately, he found some Portuguese ships. Against everyone’s expectations, he returned to his native country.” When Peter finished, I thanked him for his kindness in planning to introduce us. He knew how much I would enjoy talking with such a man. Raphael and I then embraced. After exchanging the greetings usual between strangers meeting for the first time, we all went to my house. We entered the garden, sat on a grassy bank, and talked. Raphael told us what happened after Vespucci sailed away. He and his companions who remained in New Castile gradually won the local people’s affection. They met with them often and treated them kindly. Eventually, they not only lived safely among them but also became close friends with them. They also won the trust of a prince whose name and country I have forgotten. He supplied them generously with everything they needed, including transport for their journeys. He provided boats for travel by water and wagons for travel overland. He also sent a very trustworthy guide with them. The guide was to introduce and recommend them to any other princes they wished to visit. After many days of travel, they reached towns, cities, and states that were well governed and well populated. Along the equator, and throughout the belt where the sun passes directly overhead, lay vast deserts. The sun’s constant heat had scorched them. The soil was dried out, and everything looked bleak. Some places were entirely uninhabited. Others swarmed with wild beasts and snakes, with a few people no less wild or cruel than the beasts. But as the travelers went farther, a different landscape appeared. Everything became gentler, the air less scorching, and the ground greener. Even the animals were less wild. At last, they reached nations, towns, and cities that traded with one another and with their neighbors. They also traded by sea and land with very distant countries. There they found easy ways to visit many countries in every direction. No ship set out on a voyage without welcoming Raphael and his companions aboard. The first vessels they saw were flat-bottomed. Their sails were made of reeds and wicker tightly woven together, though some were made of leather. Later, they found ships with rounded keels and canvas sails, like our ships in every respect. Their sailors understood both astronomy and navigation. Raphael won great favor with them by showing them how to use the compass, which they had never known before. Previously, they had sailed with great caution, and only during summer. Now they treat all seasons alike, trusting entirely to the magnetic needle. Perhaps it makes them feel more secure than they really are. There is therefore reason to fear the consequences of this discovery. It was expected to benefit them greatly, but their recklessness may make it the cause of much harm. It would take too long to describe everything Raphael told us he had observed in each place. It would also lead us too far from our present subject. Perhaps another occasion will be better suited to describing the wise and sensible institutions he observed among civilized nations. We can then relate whatever needs to be told about them. We asked him many questions about all these things, and he answered very willingly. We made no inquiries about monsters, for nothing is more common. Everywhere, one can hear of ravenous dogs and wolves and savage man-eaters. But states that are well and wisely governed are not so easy to find.
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 past, 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, is such, that you would not only entertain them very pleasantly, but be of great use to them, by the examples you could set before them, and the advices you could give them; and by this means you would both serve your own interest, and be of great use to all your friends.” “As for my friends,” answered he, “I need not be much concerned, having already done for them all that was incumbent on me; for when I was not only in good health, but fresh and young, I distributed that among my kindred and friends which other people do not part with till they are old and sick: when they then unwillingly give that which they can enjoy no longer themselves. I think my friends ought to rest contented with this, and not to expect that for their sakes 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 favour 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 council 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 favour, whom by their fawning and flatteries they endeavour 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 interests would be much depressed if they could not run it down: and, if all other things failed, then they would fly to this, that such or such things pleased our ancestors, and it were well for us if we could but match them. They would set up their rest on such an answer, as a sufficient confutation of all that could be said, as if it were a great misfortune that any should be found wiser than his ancestors. But though they willingly let go all the good things that were among those of former ages, yet, if better things are proposed, they cover themselves obstinately with this excuse of reverence to past times. I have met with these proud, morose, and absurd judgments of things in many places, particularly once in England.” “Were you ever there?” said I. “Yes, I was,” answered he, “and stayed some months there, not long after the rebellion in the West was suppressed, with a great slaughter of the poor people that were engaged in it.
He told us about many things that were wrong in those newly discovered countries. But he also listed many practices that could serve as models for correcting faults in the nations where we live. As I have already promised, I may describe these another time. For now, I intend only to report what he told us about the customs and laws of the Utopians. But I will begin by explaining how we came to discuss that commonwealth. Raphael had spoken with great insight about the many faults found both among us and in those other nations. He had also discussed the wise institutions found in both places. He described each nation’s customs and government as clearly as if he had spent his whole life there. Peter was filled with admiration. “I wonder, Raphael, why you do not enter some king’s service,” he said. “I am sure every king would welcome you. You have such learning and such knowledge of people and affairs that you could provide them with delightful conversation. You could also help them greatly through the examples you offered and the advice you gave. In this way, you would advance your own interests and be very useful to all your friends.” “As for my friends,” he answered, “I need not worry much about them. I have already done everything I owed them. While I was still healthy, young, and full of energy, I divided my possessions among my relatives and friends. Other people keep theirs until they are old and sick. Only then do they reluctantly give away what they can no longer enjoy themselves. I think my friends should be satisfied with this. They should not expect me to enslave myself to any king for their sake.” “Now, take it easy!” said Peter. “I do not mean you should become any king’s slave. I mean only that you should help kings and be useful to them.” “Changing the word,” he said, “does not change the thing.” “But call it what you like,” Peter replied. “I see no other way for you to be so useful, both to your friends privately and to the public. Nor do I see another way to make your own life happier.” “Happier?” Raphael answered. “Could I achieve that by doing something so opposed to my nature? As things stand, I live as I please. I believe few courtiers can say the same. So many people seek the favor of powerful men. Those men will lose little if neither I nor others like me trouble them.” At this I said, “I see, Raphael, that you desire neither wealth nor high position. Indeed, I value and admire such a man far more than any of the world’s powerful men. Yet I think devoting your time and thought to public affairs would suit your generous and philosophical spirit. That remains true even if it causes you some personal discomfort. You could do this most effectively by joining some great prince’s council and guiding him toward noble and worthy actions. I know you would do that if you held such a position. Both good and evil flow from the prince throughout a whole nation, as water flows from an enduring spring. Your great learning alone, even without practical experience, would make you a very suitable adviser to any king. So would your great experience, even without any other learning.” “You are mistaken on both counts, Mr. More,” he said. “You misjudge both me and the situation. I do not have the abilities you imagine. Even if I did, the public would gain nothing from my sacrificing my peace of mind. Most princes devote themselves more to warfare than to the useful arts of peace. I know nothing about warfare, nor have I much desire to learn. They generally care more about acquiring new kingdoms, rightly or wrongly, than about governing their own well. “As for princes’ ministers, all are either too wise to need help or at least think they are. If they seek anyone’s favor, it is only that of people whom the prince personally favors. Through groveling and flattery, they try to bind these people to their own interests. Indeed, nature has made all of us love flattery and take pleasure in our own ideas. The old crow loves his young, and the ape loves her offspring. “Imagine a court full of people who envy everyone else and admire only themselves. Suppose someone proposed something he had read in history or observed during his travels. The others would think their reputation for wisdom would suffer unless they could discredit it. They would think their own interests would suffer greatly too. If every other argument failed, they would fall back on this one. Such practices pleased our ancestors, they would say, and we would do well merely to equal them. They would take their stand on that answer, treating it as a complete reply to anything anyone could say. It is as though finding anyone wiser than his ancestors would be a great misfortune. Yet they willingly abandon all the good practices of earlier ages. When better ones are proposed, however, they stubbornly shelter behind this excuse of respect for the past. I have encountered these proud, ill-tempered, and absurd judgments in many places, particularly once in England.” “Have you been there?” I asked. “Yes,” he answered, “and I stayed there for several months. This was shortly after the rebellion in the West was crushed. Great numbers of the poor people involved in it were slaughtered.
“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.’ ‘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 labour, on the labour 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 neighbourhood 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 honour than is to be found among tradesmen or ploughmen.’ ‘You may as well say,’ replied I, ‘that you must cherish thieves on the account of wars, for you will never want the one as long as you have the other; and as robbers prove sometimes gallant soldiers, so soldiers often prove brave robbers, so near an alliance there is between those two sorts of life. But this bad custom, so common among you, of keeping many servants, is not peculiar to this nation. In France there is yet a more pestiferous sort of people, for the whole country is full of soldiers, still kept up in time of peace (if such a state of a nation can be called a peace); and these are kept in pay upon the same account that you plead for those idle retainers about noblemen: this being a maxim of those pretended statesmen, that it is necessary for the public safety to have a good body of veteran soldiers ever in readiness. They think raw men are not to be depended on, and they sometimes seek occasions for making war, that they may train up their soldiers in the art of cutting throats, or, as Sallust observed, “for keeping their hands in use, that they may not grow dull by too long an intermission.” But France has learned to its cost how dangerous it is to feed such beasts. The fate of the Romans, Carthaginians, and Syrians, and many other nations and cities, which were both overturned and quite ruined by those standing armies, should make others wiser; and the folly of this maxim of the French appears plainly even from this, that their trained soldiers often find your raw men prove too hard for them, of which I will not say much, lest you may think I flatter the English. Every day’s experience shows that the mechanics in the towns or the clowns in the country are not afraid of fighting with those idle gentlemen, if they are not disabled by some misfortune in their body or dispirited by extreme want; so that you need not fear that those well-shaped and strong men (for it is only such that noblemen love to keep about them till they spoil them), who now grow feeble with ease and are softened with their effeminate manner of life, would be less fit for action if they were well bred and well employed. And it seems very unreasonable that, for the prospect of a war, which you need never have but when you please, you should maintain so many idle men, as will always disturb you in time of peace, which is ever to be more considered than war. But I do not think that this necessity of stealing arises only from hence; there is another cause of it, more peculiar to England.’ ‘What is that?’ said the Cardinal: ‘The increase of pasture,’ said I, ‘by which your sheep, which are naturally mild, and easily kept in order, may be said now to devour men and unpeople, not only villages, but towns; for wherever it is found that the sheep of any soil yield a softer and richer wool than ordinary, there the nobility and gentry, and even those holy men, the abbots! not contented with the old rents which their farms yielded, nor thinking it enough that they, living at their ease, do no good to the public, resolve to do it hurt instead of good. They stop the course of agriculture, destroying houses and towns, reserving only the churches, and enclose grounds that they may lodge their sheep in them. As if forests and parks had swallowed up too little of the land, those worthy countrymen turn the best inhabited places into 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 trick or by main force, or, being wearied out by 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 labour, 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 likely to fall; since, though they cannot be called a monopoly, because they are not engrossed by one person, yet they are in so few hands, and these are so rich, that, as they are not pressed to sell them sooner than they have a mind to it, so they never do it till they have raised the price as high as possible. And on the same account it is that the other kinds of cattle are so dear, because many villages being pulled down, and all country labour 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 ale-houses are no better; add to these dice, cards, tables, football, 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?’
“At that time, I owed much to the reverend John Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury, Cardinal, and Chancellor of England. Peter,” he said, “Mr. More knows well what sort of man he was. His wisdom and virtues deserved as much respect as his high office. He was of medium height, and age had not weakened him. His appearance inspired respect rather than fear. He spoke easily, but with seriousness and dignity. Sometimes he tested people who came to him on business by speaking sharply, though never rudely. This showed him their character and their ability to think quickly. He greatly enjoyed such quickness, provided it did not become insolence, because it closely resembled his own nature. He considered such people best suited to public business. “He spoke with both grace and authority. He knew the law exceptionally well, had a powerful mind, and possessed an extraordinary memory. Study and experience had strengthened these natural gifts. When I was in England, the King relied heavily on his advice. The government seemed to depend chiefly on him. He had handled public affairs since his youth. Through many changes of fortune, he had gained a vast store of wisdom at great personal cost. Wisdom bought so dearly is not easily lost. “One day, while I was dining with him, an English lawyer happened to be at the table. He began enthusiastically praising the harsh punishment of thieves. ‘They are being hanged so quickly,’ he said, ‘that sometimes twenty hang from a single gallows!’ He added that he could not understand why so many thieves remained, still robbing everywhere, when so few escaped punishment. “I dared to speak freely before the Cardinal. ‘There is no reason to be surprised,’ I said. ‘This punishment for thieves is neither just in itself nor beneficial to the public. It is too harsh, and it does not work. Theft alone is not so serious a crime that someone should lose his life for it. No punishment, however severe, can stop people from stealing when they have no other way to survive. “‘In this respect, you English and much of the world resemble bad schoolmasters. They are quicker to punish their pupils than to teach them. You impose dreadful punishments on thieves. It would be far better to ensure that everyone had a way to earn a living. Then people would not face the desperate necessity of stealing and dying for it.’ “‘Enough has already been done about that,’ he said. ‘There are plenty of trades, and there is farming. People can scrape a living from these, unless they would rather turn to crime.’ “‘That answer will not do,’ I said. ‘Many people lose their limbs in civil or foreign wars. This happened recently in the Cornish rebellion, and earlier in your wars with France. Disabled in the service of their king and country, they can no longer follow their old trades. They are also too old to learn new ones. But wars happen only occasionally, with intervals between them. Let us consider what happens every day. “‘You have many noblemen who are as idle as drones. They live on other people’s work, especially their tenants’ labor. To increase their income, they squeeze those tenants to the bone. This is their only form of thrift. In everything else, they spend recklessly, even to the point of ruining themselves. Besides this, they surround themselves with crowds of idle men who have never learned any way to earn a living. As soon as their lord dies, or they themselves become sick, these men are thrown out. Your lords are more willing to feed idle men than to care for sick ones. Often, too, an heir cannot afford to maintain as large a household as his predecessor. “‘When these dismissed servants become desperately hungry, they steal just as desperately. What else can they do? After wandering about, they wear out both their health and their clothes. They become ragged and look dreadful. The wealthy will not employ them, and the poor dare not. Poor people know what these men have been brought up to expect: idleness and pleasure. They were used to strutting around with swords and shields, treating everyone nearby with arrogant contempt as their inferiors. Such men are unfit to work with a spade or hoe. Nor will they serve a poor employer for the low wages and plain food he can afford.’ “He answered, ‘These men deserve particular support. They provide the strength of the armies we need. Their birth gives them a nobler sense of honor than tradesmen or farmworkers possess.’ “‘You might as well say,’ I replied, ‘that we must support thieves because we need wars. You will never lack thieves as long as you have soldiers. Robbers sometimes become courageous soldiers, and soldiers often become daring robbers. The two ways of life are closely connected. “‘But this harmful custom of keeping large numbers of servants is not unique to your country. France has an even more destructive kind of people. The whole country is full of soldiers maintained even during peacetime, if such a condition can be called peace. They are paid for the same reason you give for maintaining noblemen’s idle followers. These so-called statesmen claim that public safety requires a strong force of experienced soldiers always ready for action. They think untrained men cannot be trusted. Sometimes they even seek excuses for war to train their soldiers in the art of cutting throats. As Sallust observed, they do it “to keep their hands in practice, so they do not lose their skill through prolonged inactivity.” “‘But France has learned at great cost how dangerous it is to feed such beasts. Standing armies overthrew and utterly ruined the Romans, Carthaginians, Syrians, and many other nations and cities. Their fate should teach others wisdom. The foolishness of this French principle is clear from another fact. Their trained soldiers often find your untrained men too strong for them. I will say little about this, lest you think I am flattering the English. “‘Daily experience shows that town craftsmen and country laborers are not afraid to fight these idle gentlemen. That is, unless injury has disabled them or extreme poverty has broken their spirits. Noblemen choose only strong, well-built men to serve them, and then spoil them. These men now grow weak through ease and soft through a pampered, unmanly way of life. You need not fear they would become less fit for fighting if they were properly trained and usefully employed. “‘It seems deeply unreasonable to maintain so many idle men in preparation for a possible war. You need never have a war unless you choose one. Yet these men will always trouble you during peace, which should always matter more than war. But this is not the only thing that forces people to steal. There is another cause, more particular to England.’ “‘What is that?’ asked the Cardinal. “‘The spread of pasture,’ I said. ‘Your sheep are naturally gentle and easily controlled. Yet now they may be said to devour people and empty not only villages but towns. Wherever the land produces sheep with unusually soft and valuable wool, the nobles and gentry move in. Even those holy men, the abbots, join them! They are not satisfied with the rents their farms used to bring. Nor is it enough that they live at ease without benefiting the public. They decide to harm it instead. “‘They stop farming, destroy houses and towns, and leave only the churches standing. They fence off the land to keep their sheep there. As though forests and parks had not already swallowed enough land, these worthy countrymen turn thriving communities into wastelands. Some greedy wretch, a plague on his country, decides to enclose thousands of acres. Owners and tenants alike are driven from their property by fraud or outright force. Or they are worn down by mistreatment until they are forced to sell. “‘These miserable people must all leave their homes without knowing where to go. Men and women, married and unmarried, old and young, are driven out with their poor but large families. Farmwork, after all, requires many hands. They must sell their household belongings for almost nothing. Those things would fetch little even if they had time to wait for buyers. Their small supply of money will soon run out. What can they do then but steal and be hanged, God knows how justly, or wander about begging? “‘If they beg, they are imprisoned as idle vagrants. Yet they would gladly work, if anyone would hire them. There is no longer any need for the farmwork they were trained to do, because no farmland remains. One shepherd can tend a flock occupying land that would need many workers if it were plowed and harvested. “‘This also raises the price of grain in many places. Wool has become so expensive that poor people who once made cloth can no longer afford to buy it. This, too, leaves many without work. Since pasture expanded, God has punished the owners’ greed with a disease that has killed enormous numbers of sheep. To us, it might have seemed fairer if it had struck the owners themselves. “‘But even if sheep multiplied without limit, their price would probably not fall. Strictly speaking, this is not a monopoly, because one person does not control them all. Yet they belong to so few people, and those people are so rich, that they need not sell before they choose. They never sell until they have raised the price as high as possible. “‘Other livestock are expensive for the same reason. So many villages have been destroyed, and farming is so neglected, that no one makes a business of breeding them. The rich do not breed cattle as they breed sheep. Instead, they buy them thin and cheap. They fatten them on their own land and sell them again at high prices. “‘I do not think all the harm this will cause has yet been recognized. They already sell cattle at high prices. If cattle are consumed faster than the regions supplying them can breed replacements, their numbers must fall. This must eventually cause a serious shortage. Your island seemed, in this respect, the most fortunate place in the world. Now it will suffer greatly through the cursed greed of a few people. “‘Besides, rising grain prices make everyone reduce their households as much as possible. What can dismissed servants do but beg or steal? A proud man is far more readily drawn to stealing than begging. “‘Luxury is also spreading rapidly among you, adding to your poverty and misery. People are excessively vain about clothing and spend heavily on food. This is true not only in noble households but among tradesmen, farmers themselves, and people of every rank. You also have many brothels. Besides the openly recognized ones, your taverns and alehouses are no better. Add dice, cards, backgammon, football, tennis, and quoits, all of which quickly drain people’s money. Those who take up these activities must eventually turn to robbery to fund them. “‘Get rid of these plagues. Order those who have emptied so much land of people to rebuild the villages they destroyed. Otherwise, make them rent their land to people who will rebuild them. Curb the rich people’s concentration of property, which is almost as harmful as monopoly. Reduce the opportunities for idleness. Restore farming, and regulate wool manufacturing so that work can be found for these crowds of unemployed people. Poverty forces some of them to become thieves. Others, now wandering idly or serving without any useful purpose, will certainly become thieves in the end. “‘Unless you remedy these evils, boasting about your harsh punishment of theft is pointless. It may look like justice, but it is neither just nor useful. You allow your people to be badly brought up and their character to be corrupted from infancy. Then you punish them for crimes their upbringing prepared them to commit. What can we conclude except 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—’ ‘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 be 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 those 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 men in making laws can authorise man-slaughter 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 licence 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.
“While I was speaking, the Counsellor, who was there, had prepared an answer. He planned to repeat everything I had said, following the formal rules of debate. In such debates, arguments are usually repeated more accurately than they are answered, as though memory were the main test. ‘You have spoken nicely, for a stranger,’ he said. ‘You have heard about many things here that you have not been able to examine properly. But I will make the whole matter clear to you. First, I will repeat everything you have said, in order. Then I will show how badly your ignorance of our affairs has misled you. Finally, I will answer all your arguments. To begin as I promised, there were four things—’ ‘Be quiet!’ said the Cardinal. ‘This will take too long. For now, we will spare you the trouble of answering and leave it until our next meeting. That will be tomorrow, if your business and Raphael’s allow it. But, Raphael,’ he said to me, ‘I would gladly hear why you think theft should not be punished by death. Would you allow it to go unpunished? Or do you suggest another punishment that would benefit the public more? Death does not prevent theft. If people thought their lives were safe, what fear or force could hold back wicked people? On the contrary, they would see a lighter punishment as an invitation to commit more crimes.’ “I answered, ‘It seems deeply unjust to take a man’s life for a little money. Nothing in the world can equal the value of a human life. Some may say, “He is punished not for the money, but for breaking the law.” My answer is that extreme justice is extreme injustice. We should not approve of terrible laws that punish the smallest offences with death. Nor should we accept the Stoic belief that all crimes are equal. That would mean treating killing a man as no different from taking his purse. Yet, judged fairly, these acts are neither alike nor equal in seriousness. God has commanded us not to kill. Should we kill so readily for a little money? “‘Some may say this command only forbids killing when the laws of the land do not permit it. But the same reasoning would allow laws permitting adultery and perjury in certain cases. God has denied us the right to dispose of either our own lives or other people’s. Yet some claim that people, by agreeing to make laws, can authorize killing where God has given no such example. They claim this releases people from God’s law and makes murder lawful. What is this but putting human laws above God’s? Once we accept this, people can use the same reasoning to place any limits they please on all God’s laws. “‘The law of Moses was harsh and severe, a yoke placed on a stubborn nation accustomed to servitude. Yet under that law, thieves were only fined, not put to death. We cannot imagine that God gives us greater freedom to be cruel than he gave the Jews. Not under this new law of mercy, in which he treats us with a father’s tenderness. These are my reasons for believing that putting thieves to death is unlawful. “‘It is also plainly absurd and harmful to the state to give thieves and murderers the same punishment. A robber may see that conviction for theft puts him in as much danger as conviction for murder. This will naturally encourage him to kill someone he would otherwise only have robbed. If the punishment is the same, killing makes him safer and less likely to be caught. He has removed the person best able to identify him. So threatening thieves with too much punishment drives them to cruelty.
“But as to the question, ‘What more convenient way of punishment can be found?’ I think it much easier to find out that than to invent anything that is worse; why should we doubt but the way that was so long in use among the old Romans, who understood so well the arts of government, was very proper for their punishment? They condemned such as they found guilty of great crimes to work their whole lives in quarries, or to dig in mines with chains about them. But the method that I liked best was that which I observed in my travels in Persia, among the Polylerits, who are a considerable and well-governed people: they pay a yearly tribute to the King of Persia, but in all other respects they are a free nation, and governed by their own laws: they lie far from the sea, and are environed with hills; and, being contented with the productions of their own country, which is very fruitful, they have little commerce with any other nation; and as they, according to the genius of their country, have no inclination to enlarge their borders, so their mountains and the pension they pay to the Persian, secure them from all invasions. Thus they have no wars among them; they live rather conveniently than with splendour, 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 neighbours. 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 happens to be some extraordinary circumstance 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 labour; 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 or 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, besides their livelihood, they earn somewhat still to the public. They all wear a peculiar habit, of one certain colour, 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 colour; 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.
“But as for the question, ‘What better form of punishment can be found?’ I think finding one is much easier than inventing anything worse. Why should we doubt the suitability of the punishment used so long by the ancient Romans? They understood the art of government so well. They sentenced those guilty of serious crimes to lifelong work in quarries or mines, bound in chains. But the method I liked best was one I saw during my travels in Persia, among the Polylerits. They are a sizable and well-governed people. They pay an annual tribute to the King of Persia. In all other respects, they are a free nation governed by their own laws. They live far from the sea, surrounded by hills. Their country is very fertile, and they are content with what it produces. They therefore trade little with other nations. By national temperament, they have no wish to expand their borders. Their mountains and the tribute they pay to the Persian king protect them from all invasions. So they have no wars. They live comfortably rather than grandly. They might better be called a happy nation than an important or famous one. I do not think anyone beyond their nearest neighbors knows even their name. Those found guilty of theft must repay the owner, not the ruler, as happens elsewhere. They believe the ruler has no more right to the stolen goods than the thief. If the stolen property no longer exists, the thieves’ possessions are valued and used to repay the owner. Whatever remains is given to their wives and children. The thieves themselves are sentenced to work on public projects. They are neither imprisoned nor chained unless their crimes involve some exceptional circumstance. They move about freely while working for the public. If they are idle or reluctant to work, they are whipped. But if they work hard, they are treated well and without disgrace. Their names are simply called each night, and then they are locked up. Their only other hardship is constant labor. Since they work for the public, they are well provided for at public expense. The arrangements differ from place to place. In some places, all their support comes from charitable donations. This may seem uncertain, but the people are so compassionate that the donations provide more than enough. Elsewhere, public revenues are set aside for them, or a regular tax, sometimes charged per person, supports them. In some places, they do no public work. Instead, private individuals needing workers go to the marketplaces and hire them from the authorities. They pay a little less than they would to hire a free worker. If the workers are slow at their tasks, the employer may spur them on with a whip. This ensures that there is always some work for them to do. Besides earning their keep, they also earn something for the public. They all wear distinctive clothing of one particular color. Their hair is cut a little above their ears, and part of one ear is cut off. Their friends may give them food, drink, or clothes, provided the clothes are the required color. But giving them money brings the death penalty for both giver and receiver. Any free person who takes money from them, for any reason, faces the same penalty. These slaves, as they are called, are also forbidden to handle weapons on pain of death. Those in each district wear a distinctive mark. Removing it, leaving their assigned area, or speaking with a slave from another district is punishable by death. Even attempting to escape carries the same penalty as escaping. Any other slave who helps faces death. A free person who takes part is sentenced to slavery. Those who report the plan are rewarded. Free people receive money, while slaves receive freedom and a pardon for their part in it. This gives them more to gain by turning against an escape plan than by carrying it through.
“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 are 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 had 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 neighbourhood can do nothing to any purpose unless a general conspiracy were laid amongst 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 sentence of death were 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.
“These are their laws and rules concerning robbery. They are clearly as useful as they are mild and humane. They eliminate wrongdoing while preserving lives. The offenders are made to see the need to live honestly. They must spend the rest of their lives repairing the harm they have done to society. There is no risk of their returning to their old ways. Travellers have so little fear of them that they generally use them as guides from one jurisdiction to another. They have no means of robbing anyone or profiting from it. They are disarmed, and simply possessing money is enough to convict them. If discovered, they are certain to be punished, and they cannot hope to escape. Every part of their clothing differs from ordinary dress, so they cannot run away unless they go naked. Even then, their cropped ear would give them away. The only danger is that they might plot against the government. But those in one district or neighbourhood can achieve nothing without a general conspiracy among slaves across all jurisdictions. This is impossible, since they cannot meet or speak together. Nor would anyone risk a plot when concealing it is so dangerous and exposing it so profitable. None are entirely without hope of regaining their freedom. Through obedience and patience, they can give good reason to believe they will change their way of life. They may then expect to gain their freedom eventually. Every year, some are freed because of the good reports made about them. When I had explained all this, I added that I saw no reason not to adopt such a system. It could do more good than could ever be expected from the harsh justice the Counsellor praised so highly. He answered, ‘It could never be introduced in England without endangering the whole nation.’ As he spoke, he shook his head, pulled some faces, and fell silent. Everyone present seemed to agree with him except the Cardinal. The Cardinal said, ‘It is hard to judge whether it would succeed, since this method has never been tried. But suppose a thief were sentenced to death, and the prince temporarily postponed the execution to try this method. The thief would be denied the right to claim sanctuary. If the method had a good effect on him, it could be adopted. If it failed, the worst outcome would be to carry out the death sentences on the condemned people after all. I cannot see why such a delay would be unjust, impractical, or at all dangerous. In my opinion, vagabonds should be treated in the same way. We have passed many laws against them, yet we have still failed to achieve our aim.’ When the Cardinal finished, everyone praised the proposal, though they had dismissed it when I suggested it. They especially praised the part about vagabonds, because that was his own suggestion.”
“I do not know whether it be worth while to tell what followed, for it was very ridiculous; but I shall venture at it, for as it is not foreign to this matter, so some good use may be made of it. There was a Jester standing by, that counterfeited the fool so naturally that he seemed to be really one; the jests which he offered were so cold and dull that we laughed more at him than at them, yet sometimes he said, as it were by chance, things that were not unpleasant, so as to justify the old proverb, ‘That he who throws the dice often, will sometimes have a lucky hit.’ When one of the company had said that I had taken care of the thieves, and the Cardinal had taken care of the vagabonds, so that there remained nothing but that some public provision might be made for the poor whom sickness or old age had disabled from labour, ‘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 labour, 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 the mocker of so many Friars, among whom there are so many bald men? We have, likewise, a bull, by which all that jeer us are excommunicated.’ When the Cardinal saw that there was no end of this matter he made a sign to the Fool to withdraw, turned the discourse another way, and soon after rose from the table, and, dismissing us, went to hear causes.
“I do not know whether what followed is worth telling, since it was so ridiculous. Still, I will try, since it relates to this subject and may serve some useful purpose. A Jester stood nearby, playing the fool so naturally that he seemed to be one. His jokes were so flat and dull that we laughed more at him than at them. Yet sometimes, seemingly by chance, he said something amusing. This proved the old saying, ‘Someone who throws the dice often will sometimes get lucky.’ “One of the company said that I had dealt with the thieves, and the Cardinal with the vagabonds. All that remained was public support for poor people unable to work through sickness or old age. ‘Leave that to me,’ said the Fool, ‘and I will take care of them. There are no people I hate seeing more. They have so often bothered me with their sad complaints. Yet however sorrowfully they told their stories, they could never get a penny from me. Either I did not want to give them anything, or I wanted to but had nothing to give. They know me so well now that they will not waste their efforts. They let me pass without troubling me, because they expect nothing from me. Indeed, they expect no more than if I were a priest. But I would pass a law sending all these beggars to monasteries. The men would go to the Benedictines as lay brothers, and the women would become nuns.’ “The Cardinal smiled and jokingly approved, but the others liked the proposal in earnest. A theologian was present, a serious, bad-tempered man. Even he was so pleased with this jab at priests and monks that he began joking with the Fool. ‘This will not rid you of all beggars,’ he said, ‘unless you also deal with us Friars.’ “‘That is already done,’ answered the Fool. ‘The Cardinal has provided for you with his proposal to restrain vagabonds and put them to work. I know no vagabonds like you.’ “The whole company enjoyed this. Looking at the Cardinal, they saw that he was not displeased either. Only the Friar himself was upset, as you can easily imagine. He flew into such a rage that he could not stop insulting the Fool. He called him a villain, a slanderer, a backbiter, and a soul doomed to destruction. Then he quoted terrible threats from Scripture against him. “Now the Jester felt in his element and struck back freely. ‘Good Friar,’ he said, ‘do not be angry, for it is written, “Through patience, keep possession of your soul.”’ “The Friar replied, and I will give you his own words, ‘I am not angry, you hangman. At least, I commit no sin in being angry, for the Psalmist says, “Be angry, and do not sin.”’ “At this, the Cardinal gently warned him to control his temper. ‘No, my lord,’ he said, ‘I speak only out of righteous zeal, which I ought to have. Holy men have shown righteous zeal, as Scripture says, “Zeal for your house has consumed me.” In our church, we sing about those who mocked Elisha as he went up to God’s house. They felt the effects of his zeal. That mocker, that rogue, that scoundrel, may perhaps feel them too.’ “‘Perhaps you mean well,’ said the Cardinal. ‘But I think it would be wiser, and perhaps better for you, to avoid this ridiculous argument with a Fool.’ “‘No, my lord,’ he answered, ‘that would not be wise. Solomon, the wisest of men, said, “Answer a fool according to his folly.” That is what I am doing. I am showing him the ditch he will fall into unless he watches out. The many mockers of Elisha felt the effects of his zeal, though he was only one bald man. What will happen to someone who mocks so many Friars, with so many bald men among them? We also have a papal bull that excommunicates everyone who mocks us.’ “When the Cardinal saw there was no end to this, he signaled to the Fool to leave. He changed the subject and soon afterward rose from the table. After dismissing us, he went to hear legal cases.
“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 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.”
“So, Mr. More, I have told a long and tedious story. I would have been ashamed of its length if you had not so earnestly asked me to tell it. You also listened as though you did not want to miss a single part. I could have shortened it, but I decided to tell it in full so you could notice what happened. Those who had dismissed my proposal immediately approved of it when they saw that the Cardinal did not dislike it. They fawned over him and flattered him so much that they seriously praised things he had liked only in jest. From this, you can judge how little courtiers would value either me or my advice.”
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 honour 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 counsels.” “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 counsels of philosophers, and this he himself found to be true in the person of Dionysius.
I answered, “You have done me a great kindness by telling me this story. You have told it with both wisdom and charm. You made me feel I was back in my own country and young again. You reminded me of that good Cardinal, in whose household I was raised from childhood. You are already very dear to me for other reasons. But you are dearer still because you honor his memory so much. “Even so, I cannot change my opinion. I still think you could do much good for humanity if you overcame your dislike of royal courts. The advice you could offer would make that possible. Doing good for humanity should be every good person’s main purpose in life. Your friend Plato thinks nations will be happy when philosophers become kings or kings become philosophers. No wonder we are so far from that happiness when philosophers do not consider advising kings their duty.” “They are not so mean-spirited that they would refuse,” he said. “They would gladly do it. Many have already offered advice in their books, if only those in power would listen to their good advice. But Plato was right that kings themselves must become philosophers. Otherwise, those corrupted by false ideas since childhood would never fully accept philosophers’ advice. He himself found this to be true in the case of Dionysius.
“Do not you think that if I were about any king, proposing good laws to him, and endeavouring 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 I 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 has so often 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 counsels with them, and give them some share of the spoil till his success makes him need or fear them less, and then it will be easily taken out of their hands; another proposes the hiring the Germans and the securing the Switzers by pensions; another proposes the gaining the Emperor by money, which is omnipotent with him; another proposes a peace with the King of Arragon, and, in order to cement it, the yielding up the King of Navarre’s pretensions; another thinks that 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 counsels how to carry on the war, if so mean a man as I should stand up and wish them to change all their counsels—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 south-east 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 interest of either. When they saw this, and that there would be no end to these evils, they by joint counsels 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?”
“Don’t you think I would be thrown out of court if I served a king and proposed good laws? What if I also tried to root out all the cursed seeds of evil I found in him? At the very least, wouldn’t I be laughed at for my trouble? For example, what good could I do if I served the King of France and joined his private council? There, several wise men would be proposing strategies in his presence. How could they hold on to Milan? How could they recover Naples, which had slipped from their hands so often? How could they conquer the Venetians, and then the rest of Italy? Then how could they add Flanders, Brabant, and all Burgundy to his empire? What about the other kingdoms he has already swallowed up in his imagination? One adviser proposes an alliance with the Venetians, to last as long as it benefits the king. He should share his plans with them and give them some of the spoils. Eventually, his success will leave him with less need to rely on them or fear them. Then he can easily take their share away. Another proposes hiring German soldiers and securing Swiss support through regular payments. Another suggests winning over the Emperor with money, which can make him do anything. Another proposes peace with the King of Aragon. To seal it, France should abandon its support for the King of Navarre’s claims. Another thinks the Prince of Castile can be won over by the prospect of a marriage alliance. Some of his courtiers should also receive payments to bring them over to the French side. The hardest question is what to do about England. Peace negotiations must begin. Even if England cannot be trusted as an ally, the treaty must be made as firm as possible. The English must be called friends but suspected of being enemies. The Scots must therefore be kept ready to attack England whenever an opportunity arises. Some exiled nobleman with a claim to the English crown must also receive secret support. The treaty prevents this from being done openly. This will keep that distrusted king in fear. Now imagine all this feverish activity, with so many distinguished men planning together how to carry on the war. What if someone as insignificant as I stood up and asked them to change all their plans? I would tell them to leave Italy alone and stay at home. France was already larger than one man could govern well. The king should therefore not think of adding other kingdoms to it. Then suppose I told them about the decision of the Achorians, a people southeast of Utopia. Long ago, they went to war to add another kingdom to their prince’s lands. He had some claim to it through an old alliance. They conquered it, but found it as difficult to keep as it had been to win. The conquered people were always either rebelling or facing foreign invasion. The Achorians constantly had to fight, either for them or against them. As a result, they could never disband their army. Meanwhile, heavy taxes burdened them, and their money flowed out of the kingdom. Their blood was shed for their king’s glory without bringing the people the slightest advantage. They gained not the smallest benefit from it, even in peacetime. The long war corrupted their behavior, robbery and murder became widespread, and their laws were treated with contempt. Their king, distracted by the care of two kingdoms, was less able to attend to either. They saw all this and realized these evils would never end. Together, they decided to make a humble appeal to their king. They asked him to choose which kingdom he most wanted to keep, since he could not hold both. They were too great a people to be ruled by a king whose attention was divided. After all, no one would willingly share a stable servant with another master. So the good prince was forced to give his new kingdom to a friend and settle for his old one. That friend was overthrown not long afterward. I would add that all these military ventures must bring enormous disorder and cost vast amounts of money and lives. After all that, perhaps some misfortune might force them to give everything up in the end. It therefore seemed far better for the king to improve his existing kingdom and make it flourish as much as possible. He should love his people and be loved by them. He should live among them, govern them gently, and leave other kingdoms alone. His own kingdom was large enough for him, if not too large. Tell me, how do you think a speech like that would be received?”
“I confess,” said I, “I think not very well.”
“I admit,” I said, “I don’t think very highly of it.”
“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 also been 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 licences 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 favour 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 colour 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 through 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 favour. It will either be said that equity lies of 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 willing to submit to a cruel and unjust government. Whereas necessity and poverty blunts them, makes them patient, beats them down, and breaks 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 counsels were both unbecoming a king and mischievous to him; and that not only his honour, 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 endeavours, 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, having 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 make 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 be 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 endeavour 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 began to reign, is tied by an oath, confirmed by solemn sacrifices, never to have at once above a thousand 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 moderate sum might be sufficient for any accident, if either the king had occasion for it against the rebels, or the kingdom against the invasion of an enemy; but that it was not enough to encourage a prince to invade other men’s rights—a circumstance that was the chief cause of his making that law. He also thought that it was a good provision for that free circulation of money so necessary for the course of commerce and exchange. And when a king must distribute all those extraordinary accessions that increase treasure beyond the due pitch, it makes him less disposed to oppress his subjects. Such a king as this will be the terror of ill men, and will be beloved by all the good.
“But what,” he said, “if I joined another group of ministers, whose main concern was increasing the prince’s treasury? One proposes raising the value of coins when the king owes large debts, and lowering it when his revenues arrive. That way, he could pay large debts with little money and receive great value in small payments. Another proposes pretending to prepare for war, so money can be raised to fight it. Once the money is collected, peace should immediately be made. This should be done with such a show of religious devotion that the people credit the prince’s piety. They would also praise his concern for his subjects’ lives. “A third brings forward some dusty old laws that have fallen out of use. All the subjects have forgotten them, and so have broken them too. He proposes collecting the penalties these laws prescribe. This would bring in a vast fortune, with a very respectable excuse. It would look like enforcing the law and administering justice. A fourth proposes banning many things under heavy penalties, especially things harmful to the people’s interests. Then those who stand to profit from breaking these bans could buy exemptions for large sums. This would serve two purposes, both pleasing to many. Those whose greed led them to break the rules would pay heavy fines. Meanwhile, expensive licenses would make the prince appear concerned for his people. He would seem unwilling to permit anything harmful to the public good, except reluctantly and at a high price. “Another proposes securing the judges’ loyalty, so they always rule in favor of royal authority. They must often be summoned to court, where the king can hear them debate cases involving his interests. However unjust his claims, some judge will find an excuse to give them a respectable appearance. He might want to contradict his colleagues, pride himself on being different, or seek royal favor. Once the judges disagree, even the clearest matter becomes debatable. Once truth is questioned, the king can interpret the law to his own advantage. Judges who resist will be won over through fear or reluctance to challenge their colleagues. Once secured, they can all return to court and confidently deliver whatever judgment the king wants. “Respectable excuses will never be lacking when a ruling favors the prince. They will say fairness supports him, or find words in the law that seem to do so. Or they will force those words to bear a meaning they do not naturally have. When everything else fails, they will invoke the king’s unquestionable royal authority. They will claim it stands above every law and deserves special respect from a devout judge. “Thus they all accept Crassus’s principle that a prince can never have enough treasure, because he must pay his armies. They say a king can do nothing unjust, even if he wishes to. All property belongs to him, including his subjects’ very persons. No one owns anything except what the king, in his kindness, chooses to leave him. They think the prince benefits by leaving his subjects as little as possible. They act as though his advantage lies in denying his people both wealth and freedom. These things make people less willing and ready to submit to cruel and unjust rule. Need and poverty, by contrast, dull their spirits, teach them endurance, and beat them down. They break the pride that might otherwise lead them to rebel. “Now suppose I stood up after all these proposals and said such advice was both unworthy of a king and harmful to him. His honor and safety depended more on his people’s wealth than on his own. Suppose I showed that people choose a king for their own sake, not his. They choose him so that his care and efforts will let them live comfortably and safely. A prince should therefore care more about his people’s happiness than his own. A shepherd, likewise, should care more for his flock than for himself. “Those who think a nation’s poverty keeps it safe are certainly very mistaken. Who quarrels more than beggars? Who longs more eagerly for change than someone unhappy with his present condition? Who rushes more desperately and boldly to cause unrest than those with nothing to lose and something to gain? Suppose a king became so despised or resented that only oppression and abuse could keep his subjects obedient. Suppose he could rule them only by making them poor and miserable. He would certainly do better to give up his kingdom than keep it by such methods. Otherwise, he would retain the title of authority but lose the dignity that belongs to it. “A king’s dignity is better served by ruling rich and happy subjects than by ruling beggars. Fabricius, a man of noble and generous spirit, therefore said, ‘I would rather govern rich men than be rich myself. A man surrounded by people mourning and groaning, while he enjoys wealth and pleasure, is a jailer, not a king.’ A doctor is unskilled if he cannot cure one illness without causing another. The same applies to a ruler who can correct his people’s faults only by depriving them of life’s comforts. He shows that he does not know how to govern a free nation. Instead, he should shake off his laziness or put aside his pride. His people’s contempt or hatred arises from his own faults. “Let him live on what belongs to him without wronging others, and keep his spending within his income. Let him punish crimes and use wise leadership to prevent them. He should not let them become widespread and then punish them harshly. Let him not rashly revive laws that disuse has abolished, especially laws long forgotten and never needed. Let him never demand a penalty that a judge would refuse to allow a private citizen to claim. Such a judge would consider that citizen dishonest and unjust for demanding it. “To this I would add a law of the Macarians, a people living not far from Utopia. On the day their king begins his reign, he takes an oath confirmed by solemn sacrifices. He promises never to hold more than a thousand pounds of gold in his treasury at once. The same limit applies to an equal value in silver. They tell us an excellent king made this law. He cared more about his country’s riches than his own wealth. He therefore prevented the accumulation of treasure so great that it might impoverish the people. “He thought this moderate sum would cover any emergency. The king might need it against rebels, or the kingdom might need it against an invading enemy. But it was not enough to encourage a prince to violate other people’s rights. Preventing that was his main reason for making the law. He also thought it would help money circulate freely, as trade and exchange require. The king must distribute any additional income that raises his treasury above the proper limit. This makes him less inclined to oppress his subjects. Such a king will terrify wicked people and be loved 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 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’ 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 as 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 argument,” answered he, “all that I could be able to do would be to preserve myself from being mad while I endeavoured to cure the madness of others; for, if I speak truth, I must repeat what I have said to you; and as for lying, whether a philosopher can do it or not I cannot tell: I am sure I cannot do it. But though these discourses may be uneasy and ungrateful to them, I do not see why they should seem foolish or extravagant; indeed, if I should either propose such things as Plato has contrived in his ‘Commonwealth,’ or as the Utopians practise in theirs, though they might seem better, as certainly they are, yet they are so different from our establishment, which is founded on property (there being no such thing among them), that I could not expect that it would have any effect on them. But such discourses as mine, which only call past evils to mind and give warning of what may follow, leave 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 housetops 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 seem 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.
“If, as I say, I spoke about these things to men already committed to another course, how deaf they would be!” “No doubt, very deaf,” I answered. “And no wonder. We should never offer proposals or advice that we know will not be accepted. Arguments so far outside their usual thinking could achieve nothing. They would have no effect on men whose minds were already set on different views. This kind of philosophical discussion is pleasant enough among friends talking freely. But it has no place in princes’ courts, where important affairs are settled by authority.” “That is what I was saying,” he replied. “There is no room for philosophy in princes’ courts.” “Yes, there is,” I said. “But not for this abstract philosophy, which treats everything as equally suitable at all times. There is another, more flexible philosophy. It understands its setting, adapts to it, and teaches people to play their assigned parts properly and gracefully. Suppose one of Plautus’ comedies were onstage, with a group of servants playing their parts. Imagine you appeared dressed as a philosopher and recited Seneca’s speech to Nero from Octavia. Wouldn’t it be better to say nothing than to mix such different things into an absurd tragicomedy? You spoil the play in progress by adding something entirely unlike it, even if that addition is much better. So play your part in the current play as well as you can. Do not throw it into confusion because a more enjoyable play comes to mind. “The same applies to a country and to princes’ councils. You may be unable to root out harmful opinions completely or cure an established vice as you wish. But that is no reason to abandon your country. You would not abandon a ship in a storm because you could not command the winds. You need not bombard people with arguments outside their usual thinking when their fixed beliefs prevent them from listening. Instead, look for other approaches and handle matters as skillfully as you can. If you cannot make things go well, at least make them go as little wrong as possible. Unless all people are good, everything cannot be right. And that is a blessing I do not currently hope to see.” “According to your argument,” he answered, “all I could do would be to keep myself sane while trying to cure others’ madness. If I speak the truth, I must repeat what I have told you. As for lying, I cannot say whether a philosopher can do it. I certainly cannot. My arguments may trouble and displease them. But I do not see why they should seem foolish or unreasonable. “Suppose I proposed the arrangements Plato devised in his ‘Republic,’ or those the Utopians practice in theirs. They might seem better, as they certainly are. Yet they differ greatly from our system, which rests on private property, while theirs has none. So I could not expect such proposals to influence them. But my arguments merely recall past evils and warn of what may follow. There is nothing so absurd in them that they cannot be used at any time. They can displease only those determined to rush headlong in the opposite direction. “Suppose we must dismiss as absurd or unreasonable everything that seems strange because so many people lead wicked lives. Then, even among Christians, we must stop urging people to follow most of Christ’s teachings. Yet he commanded us not to hide them. We must proclaim from the rooftops what he taught in secret. Most of his teachings conflict with the lives of people today more than anything I have said does. But preachers seem to have learned the skill you recommend to me. They saw that the world would not willingly shape its life around Christ’s rules. So they bent his teaching like a lead ruler to fit people’s lives. In this way, they hoped somehow to make the two agree. Yet I see no result from this compromise except that people feel safer in their wickedness. “And that is all I could achieve at court. I must always disagree with the others, and then I will have no influence. Or I must agree with them, and then I will only encourage their madness. I do not understand what you mean by ‘looking for other approaches.’ Nor do I understand ‘handling things so skillfully that, if they cannot go well, they go as little wrong as possible.’ At court, they will not tolerate a man who stays silent or turns a blind eye to others’ actions. He must openly approve the worst advice and agree to the most wicked plans. Anyone who showed only lukewarm approval of such wicked practices would be taken for a spy, or perhaps a traitor. “So a man who joins such company will be far from improving matters through your ‘other approaches.’ He will find no opportunities to do any good. Bad company will corrupt him sooner than he will improve it. And suppose he remains firm and innocent despite their bad company. Their foolishness and dishonesty will still be blamed on him. By joining their councils, he must share in blame that belongs entirely 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, ‘were 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.’
“Plato used a fitting comparison to explain why it is unreasonable for a philosopher to get involved in government. ‘Suppose a man,’ he says, ‘saw a large crowd run out into the rain every day and enjoy getting wet. Suppose he knew there was no point in urging them to go home to escape the storm. All he could expect from speaking to them was to get as wet as they were. It would be best for him to stay indoors. Since he lacked the influence to correct other people’s foolishness, he should take care to protect himself.’
“Though, to speak plainly my real sentiments, I must freely own that as long as there is any property, and while money is the standard of all other things, I cannot think that a nation can be governed either justly or happily: not justly, because the best things will fall to the share of the worst men; nor happily, because all things will be divided among a few (and even these are not in all respects happy), the rest being left to be absolutely miserable. Therefore, when I reflect on the wise and good constitution of the Utopians, among whom all things are so well governed and with so few laws, where virtue hath its due reward, and yet there is such an equality that every man lives in plenty—when I compare with them so many other nations that are still making new laws, and yet can never bring their constitution to a right regulation; where, notwithstanding every one 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 favourable 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 effect 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 labour? 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 falls to the ground? for I cannot imagine how that can be kept up among those that are in all things equal to one another.” “I do not wonder,” said he, “that it appears so to you, since you have no notion, or at least no right one, of such a constitution; but if you had been in Utopia with me, and had seen their laws and rules, as I did, for the space of five years, in which I lived among them, and during which time I was so delighted with them that indeed I should never have left them if it had not been to make the discovery of that new world to the Europeans, you would then confess that you had never seen a people so well constituted as they.” “You will not easily persuade me,” said Peter, “that any nation in that new world is better governed than those among us; for as our understandings are not worse than theirs, so our government (if I mistake not) being more ancient, a long practice has helped us to find out many conveniences of life, and some happy chances have discovered other things to us which no man’s understanding could ever have invented.” “As for the antiquity either of their government or of ours,” said he, “you cannot pass a true judgment of it unless you had read their histories; for, if they are to be believed, they had towns among them before these parts were so much as inhabited; and as for those discoveries that have been either hit on by chance or made by ingenious men, these might have happened there as well as here. I do not deny but we are more ingenious than they are, but they exceed us much in industry and application. They knew little concerning us before our arrival among them. They call us all by a general name of ‘The nations that lie beyond the equinoctial line;’ for their chronicle mentions a shipwreck that was made on their coast twelve hundred years ago, and that some Romans and Egyptians that were in the ship, getting safe ashore, spent the rest of their days amongst 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 aftertimes perhaps, it will be forgot by our people that I was ever there; for though they, from one such accident, made themselves masters of all the good inventions that were among us, yet I believe it would be long before we should learn or put in practice any of the good institutions that are among them. And this is the true cause of their being better governed and living happier than we, though we come not short of them in point of understanding or outward advantages.” Upon this I said to him, “I earnestly beg you would describe that island very particularly to us; be not too short, but set out in order all things relating to their soil, their rivers, their towns, their people, their manners, constitution, laws, and, in a word, all that you imagine we desire to know; and you may well imagine that we desire to know everything concerning them of which we are hitherto ignorant.” “I will do it very willingly,” said he, “for I have digested the whole matter carefully, but it will take up some time.” “Let us go, then,” said I, “first and dine, and then we shall have leisure enough.” He consented; we went in and dined, and after dinner came back and sat down in the same place. I ordered my servants to take care that none might come and interrupt us, and both Peter and I desired Raphael to be as good as his word. When he saw that we were very intent upon it he paused a little to recollect himself, and began in this manner:—
“To speak plainly, I must freely admit what I really think. As long as private property exists, and money is the measure of everything else, no nation can be governed justly or happily. Not justly, because the best things will go to the worst men. Not happily, because everything will be divided among a few, leaving everyone else utterly miserable. Even those few are not happy in every respect. “Consider the wise and good system of the Utopians. Everything is governed so well, and with so few laws. Virtue receives its proper reward, yet there is such equality that everyone lives in plenty. Compare them with so many other nations. These nations keep making new laws, yet they can never put their systems of government in proper order. Everyone has private property, but all the laws they can invent cannot secure or protect it. They cannot even let people distinguish with certainty between their own property and someone else’s. The many lawsuits that arise every day and drag on endlessly make this all too clear. “When I weigh all these things, I find myself agreeing more with Plato. I am not surprised that he refused to make laws for people unwilling to share everything. Such a wise man must have foreseen that making everyone equal was the only way to make a nation happy. This cannot happen as long as private property exists. Everyone claims as much as he can get, under one right or another. However wealthy a nation may be, a few will divide its wealth among themselves, leaving everyone else in poverty. There will therefore be two kinds of people whose fortunes deserve to be exchanged. The first are useless, wicked, and greedy. The others are honest, modest men whose constant work benefits the public more than themselves. “This convinces me that goods cannot be distributed fairly or justly until private property is abolished. Nor can the world be governed happily. As long as private property remains, the largest and by far the best part of humanity will remain burdened with worry and anxiety. I admit that these burdens can be lightened without abolishing property altogether. But they can never be entirely removed. “Laws could limit how much land and money anyone may own. They could restrain the ruler so that he does not become too powerful. They could also restrain the people so that they do not become too unruly. They could prevent anyone from seeking public office through factional intrigue. Such offices should neither be sold nor burden their holders with great expense. Otherwise, officeholders would be tempted to recover their costs through fraud and violence. It would also become necessary to choose rich men for these positions, which should instead be entrusted to the wise. “Such laws might help as good food and careful nursing help a sick man who has no hope of recovery. They might ease the disease, but they could never cure it completely. Nor could the state regain its health while private property remained. As with several diseases occurring together, treating one sore would aggravate another. Removing one harmful symptom would produce others, and strengthening one part of the body would weaken the rest.” “On the contrary,” I answered, “it seems to me that people cannot live comfortably where everything is shared. How can there be plenty when everyone will find excuses not to work? The hope of profit will not spur him on. And his confidence that others will work may make him lazy. Suppose people begin to suffer shortages, yet cannot use or dispose of anything as their own. What can follow but constant rebellion and bloodshed? This would be especially true when public officials lose the respect and authority they are owed. I cannot imagine how these could be maintained among people who are equal in everything.” “I am not surprised that it seems that way to you,” he said. “You have no understanding of such a system, or at least no accurate understanding. But suppose you had been in Utopia with me and had seen their laws and customs. I lived among them for five years. I was so delighted with them that I would never have left, except to reveal that new world to Europeans. Had you been there, you would admit that you had never seen a people with such a well-ordered society.” “You will not easily persuade me,” Peter said, “that any nation in that new world is better governed than ours. Our intelligence is no less than theirs. And unless I am mistaken, our government is older. Long experience has helped us discover many things that make life easier. Lucky accidents have also revealed things that no human mind could ever have invented.” “You cannot judge whether their government or ours is older unless you have read their histories,” he said. “If those histories are to be believed, they had towns before these parts were even inhabited. As for discoveries made by chance or by inventive people, those could have happened there as well as here. I do not deny that we are more inventive, but they far surpass us in hard work and dedication. “They knew little about us before we arrived. They call us all by one general name, ‘The nations beyond the equator.’ Their chronicle records a shipwreck on their coast twelve hundred years ago. Some Romans and Egyptians aboard reached shore safely and spent the rest of their lives among them. The Utopians were resourceful enough to make full use of this single opportunity to learn from their unexpected guests. They learned all the useful skills and crafts then practiced by the Romans that these shipwrecked men knew. From the hints their guests gave, they even worked out some skills the men could not fully explain. That is how successfully they made use of the chance arrival of some of our people on their shores. “But suppose a similar accident has ever brought anyone from there to Europe. Far from making use of it, we do not even remember it. Perhaps our people will likewise forget in time that I was ever there. From one such accident, the Utopians mastered all the good inventions we possessed. Yet I believe it would take us a long time to learn or adopt any of their good institutions. This is the real reason they are better governed and live more happily than we do. We are no less intelligent, and we lack none of their outward advantages.” At this I said, “I earnestly ask you to describe that island to us in great detail. Do not be too brief. Tell us in order about its land, rivers, towns, people, customs, system of government, and laws. In short, tell us everything you think we wish to know. You may rightly assume that we want to know everything about them that we do not already know.” “I will gladly do so,” he said. “I have carefully organized the whole subject in my mind, but it will take some time.” “Then let us go and have dinner first,” I said. “Afterward, we will have plenty of time.” He agreed. We went inside and ate, then returned and sat down in the same place. I told my servants to make sure no one came to interrupt us. Peter and I both asked Raphael to keep his promise. Seeing how eager we were, he paused briefly to collect his thoughts, then began as follows:
“The island of Utopia is in the middle two hundred miles broad, and holds almost at the same breadth over a great part of it, but it grows narrower towards 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 five hundred miles, and is well secured from winds. In this bay there is no great current; the whole coast is, as it were, one continued harbour, 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, easily be 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 harbours; 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 remains 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 uncivilised 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 labour 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 neighbours, 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.
“The island of Utopia is two hundred miles wide in the middle. It stays nearly that wide for much of its length, but narrows toward both ends. Its shape resembles a crescent. Between its tips, the sea enters through an opening eleven miles wide and spreads into a great bay. The land surrounding the bay stretches for about five hundred miles, sheltering it well from winds. There are no strong currents in the bay. The whole coast is like one continuous harbor, making trade among all the island’s inhabitants very convenient. But rocks on one side and shallow water on the other make the bay’s entrance very dangerous. In the middle stands a single rock above the water, which can therefore be easily avoided. A tower on top houses a garrison. The other rocks lie underwater and are very dangerous. Only the islanders know the channel. Any outsider entering the bay without one of their pilots would face a great risk of shipwreck. Even the islanders could not pass safely without the markers along the coast to guide them. If these markers were moved even slightly, any attacking fleet, however large, would certainly be lost. There are also many harbors on the other side of the island. Both natural defenses and fortifications protect the coast. A small number of men can therefore prevent a large army from landing. But the islanders say this was originally part of the mainland, not an island. Clear traces remain that make this account believable. Utopus conquered the land, which still bears his name, though it was first called Abraxa. He established such good government among its rough, uncivilized inhabitants and developed their culture to such a degree that they now far surpass all the rest of humanity. After quickly conquering them, he planned to separate their land from the mainland and surround it entirely with sea. To do this, he ordered a deep channel to be dug, fifteen miles long. He did not want the inhabitants to think he was treating them like slaves. So he forced both them and his own soldiers to work on it. He put so many men to work that he finished it quickly, beyond everyone’s expectations. His neighbors had initially laughed at the foolishness of the project. But as soon as they saw it completed, they were filled 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 their wisest senators once a year to Amaurot, to consult about their common concerns; for that is the chief town of the island, being situated near the centre of it, so that it is the most convenient place for their assemblies. The jurisdiction of every city extends at least twenty miles, and, where the towns lie wider, they have much more ground. No town desires to enlarge its bounds, for the people consider themselves rather as tenants than landlords. They have built, over all the country, farmhouses for husbandmen, which are well contrived, and furnished with all things necessary for country labour. 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 a vast number 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 labour, 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 liquorice, 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 neighbours. 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.
“There are fifty-four cities on the island, all large and well built. They all have the same manners, customs, and laws. Their layouts are as similar as the land allows. The nearest cities are at least twenty-four miles apart. Even the most remote city is within a day’s walk of its nearest neighbor. Each city sends three of its wisest senators to Amaurot once a year to discuss their shared concerns. Amaurot is the island’s chief city. Its location near the center makes it the most convenient meeting place. Each city governs an area extending at least twenty miles around it. Where the cities are farther apart, their territories are much larger. No city wants to expand its boundaries. The people see themselves as tenants rather than landowners. Throughout the countryside, they have built well-designed farmhouses, equipped with everything needed for farm work. People from the cities take turns living in them. Each farming household includes at least forty men and women, along with two slaves. A master and mistress oversee each household, and a magistrate oversees every thirty households. Each year, twenty members of each household return to the city after two years in the country. Twenty others come from the city to replace them. They learn farm work from those who have already spent a year there. In turn, they must teach those who arrive from the city the following year. This means that the people on these farms always have some knowledge of agriculture. They therefore avoid mistakes that could otherwise prove disastrous and cause grain shortages. This yearly rotation prevents anyone from being forced to endure the hard farming life too long. Still, many enjoy it so much that they ask permission to stay for many years. These farmers cultivate the land, raise cattle, cut wood, and transport it to the cities by land or water. They use whichever route is most convenient. They raise enormous numbers of chickens in a very unusual way. Instead of letting hens sit on the eggs, they hatch large numbers using gentle, even heat. As soon as the chicks hatch and can move around, they seem to regard their feeders as their mothers. They follow them just as other chicks follow the hen that hatched them. They breed very few horses, but those they have are spirited. They keep them only to teach young people how to sit on and ride a horse. They do not use horses for plowing or hauling, but use oxen instead. Although their horses are stronger, they find that oxen have greater endurance. Oxen are also less prone to disease and cost less to keep, requiring less care. Even when they are too worn out to work, they still provide good meat. They grow grain only for making bread. They drink wine, cider, or perry, a drink made from pears, and often water. Sometimes they boil the water with honey or licorice, both of which they have in abundance. They know exactly how much grain each city and its surrounding countryside need. Even so, they grow much more and raise more cattle than they need for their own consumption. They give their neighbors whatever surplus they do not use. When country people need something they cannot produce, they get it from the city without giving anything in exchange. The city magistrates make sure they receive it. The country people generally gather in the city once a month, on a festival day. At harvest time, the country magistrates tell the city magistrates how many workers they need to reap the crops. The requested number is sent, and they usually finish the entire harvest in one day.”