If any man has a mind to visit his friends that live in some other town, or desires to travel and see the rest of the country, he obtains leave very easily from the Syphogrant and Tranibors, when there is no particular occasion for him at home. Such as travel carry with them a passport from the Prince, which both certifies the licence that is granted for travelling, and limits the time of their return. They are furnished with a waggon and a slave, who drives the oxen and looks after them; but, unless there are women in the company, the waggon is sent back at the end of the journey as a needless encumbrance. While they are on the road they carry no provisions with them, yet they want for nothing, but are everywhere treated as if they were at home. If they stay in any place longer than a night, every one follows his proper occupation, and is very well used by those of his own trade; but if any man goes out of the city to which he belongs without leave, and is found rambling without a passport, he is severely treated, he is punished as a fugitive, and sent home disgracefully; and, if he falls again into the like fault, is condemned to slavery. If any man has a mind to travel only over the precinct of his own city, he may freely do it, with his father’s permission and his wife’s consent; but when he comes into any of the country houses, if he expects to be entertained by them, he must labour with them and conform to their rules; and if he does this, he may freely go over the whole precinct, being then as useful to the city to which he belongs as if he were still within it. Thus you see that there are no idle persons among them, nor pretences of excusing any from labour. There are no taverns, no ale-houses, nor stews among them, nor any other occasions of corrupting each other, of getting into corners, or forming themselves into parties; all men live in full view, so that all are obliged both to perform their ordinary task and to employ themselves well in their spare hours; and it is certain that a people thus ordered must live in great abundance of all things, and these being equally distributed among them, no man can want or be obliged to beg.
Anyone wishing to visit friends in another town or see the rest of the country can easily get permission. The Syphogrant and Tranibors grant it when there is no particular need for him at home. Travelers carry a passport from the Prince. It confirms their permission to travel and sets a date for their return. They receive a wagon and a slave, who drives and tends the oxen. But unless women are traveling with them, they send the wagon back upon arrival, since it is an unnecessary burden. They carry no food on the road, yet they lack nothing. Everywhere they go, they are treated as if they were at home. If they stay somewhere longer than one night, each works at his own trade. Others in the same trade treat him very well. But anyone caught wandering without a passport after leaving his city without permission is treated harshly. He is punished as a fugitive and sent home in disgrace. If he does it again, he is condemned to slavery. Anyone wishing to travel only within his own city’s territory may do so freely. He must have his father’s permission and his wife’s consent. But if he expects hospitality at any country house, he must work alongside its residents and follow their rules. If he does this, he may travel freely throughout the territory. He is then as useful to his city as if he had stayed within it. Thus, you see that no one among them is idle, and no excuses are made for avoiding work. They have no taverns, alehouses, or brothels. Nor are there other opportunities to corrupt one another, hide away in corners, or form factions. Everyone lives in full view of others. All must therefore complete their regular work and use their spare time well. A people organized this way must certainly have everything in great abundance. Since these goods are distributed equally among them, no one can lack necessities or be forced to beg.
“In their great council at Amaurot, to which there are three sent from every town once a year, they examine what towns abound in provisions and what are under any scarcity, that so the one may be furnished from the other; and this is done freely, without any sort of exchange; for, according to their plenty or scarcity, they supply or are supplied from one another, so that indeed the whole island is, as it were, one family. When they have thus taken care of their whole country, and laid up stores for two years (which they do to prevent the ill consequences of an unfavourable season), they order an exportation of the overplus, both of corn, honey, wool, flax, wood, wax, tallow, leather, and cattle, which they send out, commonly in great quantities, to other nations. They order a seventh part of all these goods to be freely given to the poor of the countries to which they send them, and sell the rest at moderate rates; and by this exchange they not only bring back those few things that they need at home (for, indeed, they scarce need anything but iron), but likewise a great deal of gold and silver; and by their driving this trade so long, it is not to be imagined how vast a treasure they have got among them, so that now they do not much care whether they sell off their merchandise for money in hand or upon trust. A great part of their treasure is now in bonds; but in all their contracts no private man stands bound, but the writing runs in the name of the town; and the towns that owe them money raise it from those private hands that owe it to them, lay it up in their public chamber, or enjoy the profit of it till the Utopians call for it; and they choose rather to let the greatest part of it lie in their hands, who make advantage by it, than to call for it themselves; but if they see that any of their other neighbours stand more in need of it, then they call it in and lend it to them. Whenever they are engaged in war, which is the only occasion in which their treasure can be usefully employed, they make use of it themselves; in great extremities or sudden accidents they employ it in hiring foreign troops, whom they more willingly expose to danger than their own people; they give them great pay, knowing well that this will work even on their enemies; that it will engage them either to betray their own side, or, at least, to desert it; and that it is the best means of raising mutual jealousies among them. For this end they have an incredible treasure; but they do not keep it as a treasure, but in such a manner as I am almost afraid to tell, lest you think it so extravagant as to be hardly credible. This I have the more reason to apprehend because, if I had not seen it myself, I could not have been easily persuaded to have believed it upon any man’s report.
“Every year, each town sends three representatives to their great council at Amaurot. They examine which towns have surplus provisions and which face shortages, so one can supply another. This is done freely, without anything given in exchange. Towns give or receive supplies according to their abundance or need. In this way, the whole island is like one family. They first provide for the whole country and set aside enough supplies for two years. This protects them against the effects of a bad season. Then they arrange to export the surplus grain, honey, wool, flax, wood, wax, tallow, leather, and cattle. They usually send these goods to other nations in large quantities. They order one-seventh of all these goods to be given freely to the poor in the receiving countries. They sell the rest at reasonable prices. Through this trade, they bring back the few things they need at home. Indeed, they need almost nothing but iron. They also bring back a great deal of gold and silver. After trading for so long, they have accumulated an unimaginably vast treasure. They now care little whether buyers pay immediately or buy on credit. Much of their wealth is now held in written promises of repayment. But no private individual is responsible under these contracts. Instead, each agreement is made in the town’s name. The towns that owe them money collect it from the private individuals who owe it to those towns. They keep it in their public treasury or earn income from it until the Utopians request repayment. The Utopians prefer to leave most of it with those who benefit from using it, rather than collect it themselves. But if they see that other neighboring peoples need it more, they collect it and lend it to them. Whenever they go to war, they use this wealth themselves. War is the only occasion when their treasure can be put to useful use. In desperate situations or sudden emergencies, they use it to hire foreign troops. They are more willing to expose these troops to danger than their own people. They pay them very generously, knowing that money will influence even their enemies. It will persuade them either to betray their own side or at least to desert it. They also know it is the best way to stir up suspicion among their enemies. For this purpose, they possess an incredible treasure. Yet they do not treat it as treasure. They handle it in a way I am almost afraid to describe. You may think it so outlandish that it is hardly believable. I have particular reason to fear this. Had I not seen it myself, I would not easily have believed anyone’s account.”
“It is certain that all things appear incredible to us in proportion as they differ from known customs; but one who can judge aright will not wonder to find that, since their constitution differs so much from ours, their value of gold and silver should be measured by a very different standard; for since they have no use for money among themselves, but keep it as a provision against events which seldom happen, and between which there are generally long intervening intervals, they value it no farther than it deserves—that is, in proportion to its use. So that it is plain they must prefer iron either to gold or silver, for men can no more live without iron than without fire or water; but Nature has marked out no use for the other metals so essential as not easily to be dispensed with. The folly of men has enhanced the value of gold and silver because of their scarcity; whereas, on the contrary, it is their opinion that Nature, as an indulgent parent, has freely given us all the best things in great abundance, such as water and earth, but has laid up and hid from us the things that are vain and useless.
“Certainly, the more things differ from familiar customs, the harder we find them to believe. But anyone who judges fairly will not be surprised by their different view of gold and silver. Their system of government differs greatly from ours, so they judge these metals by a very different standard. They have no use for money among themselves. They keep it only for rare events, which are generally separated by long intervals. They therefore value it only as much as it deserves, according to its usefulness. Clearly, then, they must prefer iron to either gold or silver. People can no more live without iron than without fire or water. But Nature has given the other metals no purpose so essential that people cannot easily do without them. Human foolishness has increased the value of gold and silver because they are scarce. They believe the opposite. In their view, Nature is a generous parent who freely provides all the best things in great abundance. These include water and earth. But Nature has stored away and hidden from us things that are worthless and useless.
“If these metals were laid up in any tower in the kingdom it would raise a jealousy of the Prince and Senate, and give birth to that foolish mistrust into which the people are apt to fall—a jealousy of their intending to sacrifice the interest of the public to their own private advantage. If they should work it into vessels, or any sort of plate, they fear that the people might grow too fond of it, and so be unwilling to let the plate be run down, if a war made it necessary, to employ it in paying their soldiers. To prevent all these inconveniences they have fallen upon an expedient which, as it agrees with their other policy, so is it very different from ours, and will scarce gain belief among us who value gold so much, and lay it up so carefully. They eat and drink out of vessels of earth or glass, which make an agreeable appearance, though formed of brittle materials; while they make their chamber-pots and close-stools of gold and silver, and that not only in their public halls but in their private houses. Of the same metals they likewise make chains and fetters for their slaves, to some of which, as a badge of infamy, they hang an earring of gold, and make others wear a chain or a coronet of the same metal; and thus they take care by all possible means to render gold and silver of no esteem; and from hence it is that while other nations part with their gold and silver as unwillingly as if one tore out their bowels, those of Utopia would look on their giving in all they possess of those metals (when there were any use for them) but as the parting with a trifle, or as we would esteem the loss of a penny! They find pearls on their coasts, and diamonds and carbuncles on their rocks; they do not look after them, but, if they find them by chance, they polish them, and with them they adorn their children, who are delighted with them, and glory in them during their childhood; but when they grow to years, and see that none but children use such baubles, they of their own accord, without being bid by their parents, lay them aside, and would be as much ashamed to use them afterwards as children among us, when they come to years, are of their puppets and other toys.
“If these metals were stored in any tower in the kingdom, people would become suspicious of the Prince and Senate. It would stir up the foolish distrust people are prone to feel. They would suspect their rulers of sacrificing the public interest for their own private gain. If the metals were made into dishes or other tableware, the rulers fear people might become too fond of them. Then they might resist having them melted down to pay soldiers if war made this necessary. To avoid all these problems, they have found a solution that fits their other policies but differs greatly from ours. We can hardly believe it, since we value gold so highly and store it so carefully. They eat and drink from pottery or glass vessels, which look attractive even though their materials are fragile. But they make their chamber pots and toilets from gold and silver, in both public halls and private homes. They also use these metals to make chains and shackles for their slaves. As a mark of disgrace, they make some slaves wear a gold earring, and others a gold chain or crown. In every possible way, they make sure gold and silver are held in no esteem. Other nations part with these metals as reluctantly as if someone were tearing out their guts. But Utopians would consider giving up all they owned of these metals, whenever needed, a trivial loss. To them, it would be like losing a penny to us! They find pearls along their coasts, and diamonds and carbuncles, or red gemstones, among their rocks. They do not search for them, but polish any they happen to find and use them to adorn their children. The children delight in these jewels and proudly wear them throughout childhood. But as they grow older, they see that only children wear such trinkets. They put them aside of their own accord, without being told to by their parents. Afterward, they would be as ashamed to wear them as our older children are to play with dolls and other toys.
“I never saw a clearer instance of the opposite impressions that different customs make on people than I observed in the ambassadors of the Anemolians, who came to Amaurot when I was there. As they came to treat of affairs of great consequence, the deputies from several towns met together to wait for their coming. The ambassadors of the nations that lie near Utopia, knowing their customs, and that fine clothes are in no esteem among them, that silk is despised, and gold is a badge of infamy, used to come very modestly clothed; but the Anemolians, lying more remote, and having had little commerce with them, understanding that they were coarsely clothed, and all in the same manner, took it for granted that they had none of those fine things among them of which they made no use; and they, being a vainglorious rather than a wise people, resolved to set themselves out with so much pomp that they should look like gods, and strike the eyes of the poor Utopians with their splendour. Thus three ambassadors made their entry with a hundred attendants, all clad in garments of different colours, and the greater part in silk; the ambassadors themselves, who were of the nobility of their country, were in cloth-of-gold, and adorned with massy chains, earrings and rings of gold; their caps were covered with bracelets set full of pearls and other gems—in a word, they were set out with all those things that among the Utopians were either the badges of slavery, the marks of infamy, or the playthings of children. It was not unpleasant to see, on the one side, how they looked big, when they compared their rich habits with the plain clothes of the Utopians, who were come out in great numbers to see them make their entry; and, on the other, to observe how much they were mistaken in the impression which they hoped this pomp would have made on them. It appeared so ridiculous a show to all that had never stirred out of their country, and had not seen the customs of other nations, that though they paid some reverence to those that were the most meanly clad, as if they had been the ambassadors, yet when they saw the ambassadors themselves so full of gold and chains, they looked upon them as slaves, and forbore to treat them with reverence. You might have seen the children who were grown big enough to despise their playthings, and who had thrown away their jewels, call to their mothers, push them gently, and cry out, ‘See that great fool, that wears pearls and gems as if he were yet a child!’ while their mothers very innocently replied, ‘Hold your peace! this, I believe, is one of the ambassadors’ fools.’ Others censured the fashion of their chains, and observed, ‘That they were of no use, for they were too slight to bind their slaves, who could easily break them; and, besides, hung so loose about them that they thought it easy to throw their away, and so get from them.” But after the ambassadors had stayed a day among them, and saw so vast a quantity of gold in their houses (which was as much despised by them as it was esteemed in other nations), and beheld more gold and silver in the chains and fetters of one slave than all their ornaments amounted to, their plumes fell, and they were ashamed of all that glory for which they had formed valued themselves, and accordingly laid it aside—a resolution that they immediately took when, on their engaging in some free discourse with the Utopians, they discovered their sense of such things and their other customs. The Utopians wonder how any man should be so much taken with the glaring doubtful lustre of a jewel or a stone, that can look up to a star or to the sun himself; or how any should value himself because his cloth is made of a finer thread; for, how fine soever that thread may be, it was once no better than the fleece of a sheep, and that sheep, was a sheep still, for all its wearing it. They wonder much to hear that gold, which in itself is so useless a thing, should be everywhere so much esteemed that even man, for whom it was made, and by whom it has its value, should yet be thought of less value than this metal; that a man of lead, who has no more sense than a log of wood, and is as bad as he is foolish, should have many wise and good men to serve him, only because he has a great heap of that metal; and that if it should happen that by some accident or trick of law (which, sometimes produces as great changes as chance itself) all this wealth should pass from the master to the meanest varlet of his whole family, he himself would very soon become one of his servants, as if he were a thing that belonged to his wealth, and so were bound to follow its fortune! But they much more admire and detest the folly of those who, when they see a rich man, though they neither owe him anything, nor are in any sort dependent on his bounty, yet, merely because he is rich, give him little less than divine honours, even though they know him to be so covetous and base-minded that, notwithstanding all his wealth, he will not part with one farthing of it to them as long as he lives!
“I have never seen a clearer example of how different customs shape people’s views than the Anemolian ambassadors. They came to Amaurot while I was there. They had come to discuss matters of great importance. Representatives from several towns gathered to await their arrival. Ambassadors from countries near Utopia knew its customs. They knew that fine clothes were not valued there, silk was despised, and gold was a mark of disgrace. So they usually arrived in very modest clothes. But the Anemolians lived farther away and had little contact with the Utopians. They had heard that the Utopians wore rough clothes and all dressed alike. They assumed the Utopians lacked the fine things they never used. Being more vain than wise, the Anemolians decided to dress with extraordinary splendor. They meant to look like gods and dazzle the poor Utopians. So three ambassadors arrived with a hundred attendants, all dressed in various colors, most of them in silk. The ambassadors themselves were noblemen in their own country. They wore cloth woven with gold and were decorated with heavy gold chains, earrings, and rings. Their caps were covered with bracelets studded with pearls and other gems. In short, they wore everything the Utopians regarded as signs of slavery or disgrace, or as children’s playthings. It was amusing to see how proudly they carried themselves. They compared their rich clothes with the plain dress of the Utopians, who had gathered in great numbers to watch. It was equally amusing to see how badly they had misjudged the effect of their splendor. To Utopians who had never left their country or seen foreign customs, the whole display looked ridiculous. They showed some respect to the most plainly dressed attendants, taking them for the ambassadors. But they thought the ambassadors themselves, covered in gold and chains, were slaves and showed them no respect. You could see children who had outgrown their playthings and thrown away their jewels gently nudging their mothers. They called out, ‘Look at that great fool, wearing pearls and gems as if he were still a child!’ Their mothers replied quite innocently, ‘Be quiet! I think he must be one of the ambassadors’ fools.’ Others criticized the design of their chains. They said, ‘Those are useless. They’re too flimsy to hold their slaves, who could easily break them. Besides, they hang so loosely that the slaves could easily slip them off and escape.’ But after a day among the Utopians, the ambassadors had seen enormous quantities of gold in their houses. The Utopians despised it as much as other nations valued it. One slave’s chains and shackles contained more gold and silver than all the ambassadors’ ornaments together. Their pride collapsed. They felt ashamed of the splendor they had valued so highly and put it aside. They made this decision immediately after speaking openly with the Utopians and learning their views and other customs. The Utopians wonder how anyone can be so fascinated by the flashy, uncertain sparkle of a jewel or stone. After all, that person can look up at a star or the sun itself. They also wonder how anyone can take pride in wearing cloth made from finer thread. However fine the thread, it was once nothing more than a sheep’s fleece. And the sheep remained a sheep, even while wearing it. They are amazed to hear that gold, so useless in itself, is valued so highly everywhere. Human beings are considered worth less than this metal, though it was made for them and they give it value. A dull man, with no more sense than a log, may be as wicked as he is foolish. Yet many wise and good people serve him simply because he owns a great heap of gold. Then an accident or legal trick might transfer all his wealth to the lowest servant in his household. Such legal tricks sometimes bring changes as great as chance itself. The former master would soon become one of that servant’s servants. It is as though he belonged to his wealth and had to follow wherever its fortunes led. But they are still more astonished and disgusted by another kind of foolishness. Some people give a rich man almost divine honors simply because he is rich. They owe him nothing and do not depend in any way on his generosity. They even know he is so greedy and mean-spirited that he will never give them a single penny. For all his wealth, he will part with none of it for them as long as he lives!”
“These and such like notions have that people imbibed, partly from their education, being bred in a country whose customs and laws are opposite to all such foolish maxims, and partly from their learning and studies—for though there are but few in any town that are so wholly excused from labour as to give themselves entirely up to their studies (these being only such persons as discover from their childhood an extraordinary capacity and disposition for letters), yet their children and a great part of the nation, both men and women, are taught to spend those hours in which they are not obliged to work in reading; and this they do through the whole progress of life. They have all their learning in their own tongue, which is both a copious and pleasant language, and in which a man can fully express his mind; it runs over a great tract of many countries, but it is not equally pure in all places. They had never so much as heard of the names of any of those philosophers that are so famous in these parts of the world, before we went among them; and yet they had made the same discoveries as the Greeks, both in music, logic, arithmetic, and geometry. But as they are almost in everything equal to the ancient philosophers, so they far exceed our modern logicians for they have never yet fallen upon the barbarous niceties that our youth are forced to learn in those trifling logical schools that are among us. They are so far from minding chimeras and fantastical images made in the mind that none of them could comprehend what we meant when we talked to them of a man in the abstract as common to all men in particular (so that though we spoke of him as a thing that we could point at with our fingers, yet none of them could perceive him) and yet distinct from every one, as if he were some monstrous Colossus or giant; yet, for all this ignorance of these empty notions, they knew astronomy, and were perfectly acquainted with the motions of the heavenly bodies; and have many instruments, well contrived and divided, by which they very accurately compute the course and positions of the sun, moon, and stars. But for the cheat of divining by the stars, by their oppositions or conjunctions, it has not so much as entered into their thoughts. They have a particular sagacity, founded upon much observation, in judging of the weather, by which they know when they may look for rain, wind, or other alterations in the air; but as to the philosophy of these things, the cause of the saltness of the sea, of its ebbing and flowing, and of the original and nature both of the heavens and the earth, they dispute of them partly as our ancient philosophers have done, and partly upon some new hypothesis, in which, as they differ from them, so they do not in all things agree among themselves.
“These people have absorbed these and similar ideas partly through their education. They grow up in a country whose customs and laws oppose all such foolish principles. Their learning and studies also shape their views. In each town, only a few people are completely excused from work to devote themselves entirely to study. These are people who show exceptional ability and a love of learning from childhood. Yet their children and a large part of the population, both men and women, learn to spend their free hours reading. They continue this throughout their lives. All their learning is in their own language. It is rich and pleasant, and people can express their thoughts fully in it. It is spoken across many countries, though not in an equally pure form everywhere. Before we arrived, they had never even heard the names of the philosophers so famous in our part of the world. Yet they had made the same discoveries as the Greeks in music, logic, arithmetic, and geometry. They equal the ancient philosophers in almost everything, and far surpass our modern logicians. They have never stumbled into the grotesquely complicated distinctions our young people must learn in our trivial schools of logic. They pay so little attention to imaginary beings and fanciful mental images that none understood our talk of abstract humanity. We described it as something common to every individual person, yet distinct from each one. We spoke as though we could point to it, but none of them could see it. It was as though this abstract human were some monstrous Colossus or giant. Despite their ignorance of these empty ideas, they knew astronomy and thoroughly understood the movements of the heavenly bodies. They have many well-designed instruments with precise scales. With these, they calculate the paths and positions of the sun, moon, and stars very accurately. But the fraud of predicting events from the stars, through their oppositions or conjunctions, has never even occurred to them. Through extensive observation, they have developed a particular skill in judging the weather. They know when to expect rain, wind, or other changes in the air. But they debate the explanations for these things, the sea’s saltiness, and the rise and fall of its tides. They also debate the origin and nature of both the heavens and the earth. Some of their arguments follow those of our ancient philosophers, while others rest on new theories. These theories differ from the ancient ones, and the Utopians do not agree among themselves on every point.
“As to moral philosophy, they have the same disputes among them as we have here. They examine what are properly good, both for the body and the mind; and whether any outward thing can be called truly good, or if that term belong only to the endowments of the soul. They inquire, likewise, into the nature of virtue and pleasure. But their chief dispute is concerning the happiness of a man, and wherein it consists—whether in some one thing or in a great many. They seem, indeed, more inclinable to that opinion that places, if not the whole, yet the chief part, of a man’s happiness in pleasure; and, what may seem more strange, they make use of arguments even from religion, notwithstanding its severity and roughness, for the support of that opinion so indulgent to pleasure; for they never dispute concerning happiness without fetching some arguments from the principles of religion as well as from natural reason, since without the former they reckon that all our inquiries after happiness must be but conjectural and defective.
“In moral philosophy, they debate the same questions we do here. They examine what is truly good for both the body and the mind. They ask whether anything external can be called truly good, or whether only qualities of the soul deserve that name. They also explore the nature of virtue and pleasure. But their main debate concerns human happiness and what it consists of. Does it lie in one thing or in many? They seem more inclined to believe that pleasure makes up most, if not all, of a person’s happiness. What may seem stranger is that they use religious arguments to support this view so favorable to pleasure. They do this despite religion’s strictness and harshness. Whenever they debate happiness, they draw arguments from religious principles as well as natural reason. Without religious principles, they believe all our inquiries into happiness must rest on guesswork and remain incomplete.”
“These are their religious principles:—That the soul of man is immortal, and that God of His goodness has designed that it should be happy; and that He has, therefore, appointed rewards for good and virtuous actions, and punishments for vice, to be distributed after this life. Though these principles of religion are conveyed down among them by tradition, they think that even reason itself determines a man to believe and acknowledge them; and freely confess that if these were taken away, no man would be so insensible as not to seek after pleasure by all possible means, lawful or unlawful, using only this caution—that a lesser pleasure might not stand in the way of a greater, and that no pleasure ought to be pursued that should draw a great deal of pain after it; for they think it the maddest thing in the world to pursue virtue, that is a sour and difficult thing, and not only to renounce the pleasures of life, but willingly to undergo much pain and trouble, if a man has no prospect of a reward. And what reward can there be for one that has passed his whole life, not only without pleasure, but in pain, if there is nothing to be expected after death? Yet they do not place happiness in all sorts of pleasures, but only in those that in themselves are good and honest. There is a party among them who place happiness in bare virtue; others think that our natures are conducted by virtue to happiness, as that which is the chief good of man. They define virtue thus—that it is a living according to Nature, and think that we are made by God for that end; they believe that a man then follows the dictates of Nature when he pursues or avoids things according to the direction of reason. They say that the first dictate of reason is the kindling in us a love and reverence for the Divine Majesty, to whom we owe both all that we have and, all that we can ever hope for. In the next place, reason directs us to keep our minds as free from passion and as cheerful as we can, and that we should consider ourselves as bound by the ties of good-nature and humanity to use our utmost endeavours to help forward the happiness of all other persons; for there never was any man such a morose and severe pursuer of virtue, such an enemy to pleasure, that though he set hard rules for men to undergo, much pain, many watchings, and other rigors, yet did not at the same time advise them to do all they could in order to relieve and ease the miserable, and who did not represent gentleness and good-nature as amiable dispositions. And from thence they infer that if a man ought to advance the welfare and comfort of the rest of mankind (there being no virtue more proper and peculiar to our nature than to ease the miseries of others, to free from trouble and anxiety, in furnishing them with the comforts of life, in which pleasure consists) Nature much more vigorously leads them to do all this for himself. A life of pleasure is either a real evil, and in that case we ought not to assist others in their pursuit of it, but, on the contrary, to keep them from it all we can, as from that which is most hurtful and deadly; or if it is a good thing, so that we not only may but ought to help others to it, why, then, ought not a man to begin with himself? since no man can be more bound to look after the good of another than after his own; for Nature cannot direct us to be good and kind to others, and yet at the same time to be unmerciful and cruel to ourselves. Thus as they define virtue to be living according to Nature, so they imagine that Nature prompts all people on to seek after pleasure as the end of all they do. They also observe that in order to our supporting the pleasures of life, Nature inclines us to enter into society; for there is no man so much raised above the rest of mankind as to be the only favourite of Nature, who, on the contrary, seems to have placed on a level all those that belong to the same species. Upon this they infer that no man ought to seek his own conveniences so eagerly as to prejudice others; and therefore they think that not only all agreements between private persons ought to be observed, but likewise that all those laws ought to be kept which either a good prince has published in due form, or to which a people that is neither oppressed with tyranny nor circumvented by fraud has consented, for distributing those conveniences of life which afford us all our pleasures.
“These are their religious principles. The human soul is immortal, and God, in his goodness, intends it to be happy. He has therefore appointed rewards for good and virtuous actions, and punishments for wrongdoing, after this life. These religious principles have been passed down among them by tradition. But they believe reason itself also leads people to believe and accept them. They freely admit that without these beliefs, no one would be so foolish as not to pursue pleasure by every possible means, lawful or unlawful. The only precautions would concern the consequences. A lesser pleasure must not stand in the way of a greater one. Nor should anyone pursue a pleasure that would bring much pain afterward. They think it utter madness to pursue virtue, which is harsh and difficult, without any hope of reward. Why give up life's pleasures and willingly endure much pain and trouble for nothing? What reward could someone have after spending a whole life not merely without pleasure, but in pain, if nothing awaits after death? Yet they do not find happiness in every kind of pleasure, but only in pleasures that are themselves good and honorable. One group among them finds happiness in virtue alone. Others think virtue guides our nature toward happiness, which is the highest human good. They define virtue as living according to nature, and believe God made us for that purpose. They believe people follow nature when reason guides what they pursue and avoid. They say reason's first instruction is to awaken love and reverence for God's majesty. To him we owe everything we have and everything we can ever hope for. Next, reason tells us to keep our minds as free from turbulent emotions and as cheerful as possible. It also tells us that kindness and our shared humanity bind us to do everything possible for others' happiness. No one has ever pursued virtue so grimly and strictly, or opposed pleasure so strongly, as to deny this duty. Such people may demand that others endure pain, many sleepless nights, and other hardships. Yet they also advise doing everything possible to comfort those who suffer and ease their distress. They describe gentleness and kindness as qualities worthy of love. From this, the Utopians conclude that if we should promote others' welfare and comfort, nature urges us even more strongly to promote our own. No virtue is more suited or distinctive to our nature than easing others' suffering. This means freeing them from trouble and anxiety and providing life's comforts, in which pleasure consists. A life of pleasure must be either truly bad or good. If it is bad, we should not help others pursue it. Instead, we should do everything possible to keep them from something so harmful and deadly. But if it is good, we not only may but ought to help others attain it. Why, then, should we not begin with ourselves? No one can have a greater duty to care for another's welfare than for their own. Nature cannot tell us to be good and kind to others while being merciless and cruel to ourselves. Thus, they define virtue as living according to nature. They also believe nature urges everyone to seek pleasure as the goal of everything they do. They further observe that nature encourages us to form societies so that we can sustain life's pleasures. No one stands so far above everyone else as to be nature's only favorite. On the contrary, nature seems to have placed all members of the same species on an equal footing. They therefore conclude that no one should pursue their own comforts so eagerly that they harm others. They believe, accordingly, that all agreements between individuals must be honored. They also believe that all laws meeting either of two conditions must be obeyed. These are laws properly issued by a good ruler, or laws accepted by people free from tyranny and deception. Such laws distribute the comforts of life that provide all our pleasures.”
“They think it is an evidence of true wisdom for a man to pursue his own advantage as far as the laws allow it, they account it piety to prefer the public good to one’s private concerns, but they think it unjust for a man to seek for pleasure by snatching another man’s pleasures from him; and, on the contrary, they think it a sign of a gentle and good soul for a man to dispense with his own advantage for the good of others, and that by this means a good man finds as much pleasure one way as he parts with another; for as he may expect the like from others when he may come to need it, so, if that should fail him, yet the sense of a good action, and the reflections that he makes on the love and gratitude of those whom he has so obliged, gives the mind more pleasure than the body could have found in that from which it had restrained itself. They are also persuaded that God will make up the loss of those small pleasures with a vast and endless joy, of which religion easily convinces a good soul.
“They think it shows true wisdom to pursue your own interests as far as the law allows. They consider it a religious duty to put the public good before private concerns. But they think it unjust to seek pleasure by taking someone else’s pleasures away. By contrast, they see sacrificing your own advantage for others as a sign of a kind and good heart. In this way, a good person gains as much pleasure as they give up. They can expect others to do the same for them when they need help. Even if that help never comes, they still have the satisfaction of having done good. They can also reflect on the love and gratitude of those they have helped. This gives the mind more pleasure than the body could have gained from what they gave up. They are also convinced that God will repay the loss of these small pleasures with immense, endless joy. Religion readily convinces a good soul of this.”
“Thus, upon an inquiry into the whole matter, they reckon that all our actions, and even all our virtues, terminate in pleasure, as in our chief end and greatest happiness; and they call every motion or state, either of body or mind, in which Nature teaches us to delight, a pleasure. Thus they cautiously limit pleasure only to those appetites to which Nature leads us; for they say that Nature leads us only to those delights to which reason, as well as sense, carries us, and by which we neither injure any other person nor lose the possession of greater pleasures, and of such as draw no troubles after them. But they look upon those delights which men by a foolish, though common, mistake call pleasure, as if they could change as easily the nature of things as the use of words, as things that greatly obstruct their real happiness, instead of advancing it, because they so entirely possess the minds of those that are once captivated by them with a false notion of pleasure that there is no room left for pleasures of a truer or purer kind.
“After examining the whole matter, they conclude that all our actions, and even all our virtues, ultimately aim at pleasure. They see pleasure as our highest goal and greatest happiness. They call every movement or state of body or mind that Nature teaches us to enjoy a pleasure. They carefully limit pleasure to those desires Nature guides us toward. They say Nature leads us only toward delights supported by reason as well as the senses. These delights must neither harm anyone else nor deprive us of greater pleasures, and they must bring no troubles afterward. But people commonly, though foolishly, call certain other delights pleasures. They act as though changing words could just as easily change the nature of things. These delights, they believe, greatly hinder people's true happiness instead of increasing it. Once people are captivated by them, this false idea of pleasure takes over their minds completely. It leaves no room for truer or purer pleasures.
“There are many things that in themselves have nothing that is truly delightful; on the contrary, they have a good deal of bitterness in them; and yet, from our perverse appetites after forbidden objects, are not only ranked among the pleasures, but are made even the greatest designs, of life. Among those who pursue these sophisticated pleasures they reckon such as I mentioned before, who think themselves really the better for having fine clothes; in which they think they are doubly mistaken, both in the opinion they have of their clothes, and in that they have of themselves. For if you consider the use of clothes, why should a fine thread be thought better than a coarse one? And yet these men, as if they had some real advantages beyond others, and did not owe them wholly to their mistakes, look big, seem to fancy themselves to be more valuable, and imagine that a respect is due to them for the sake of a rich garment, to which they would not have pretended if they had been more meanly clothed, and even resent it as an affront if that respect is not paid them. It is also a great folly to be taken with outward marks of respect, which signify nothing; for what true or real pleasure can one man find in another’s standing bare or making legs to him? Will the bending another man’s knees give ease to yours? and will the head’s being bare cure the madness of yours? And yet it is wonderful to see how this false notion of pleasure bewitches many who delight themselves with the fancy of their nobility, and are pleased with this conceit—that they are descended from ancestors who have been held for some successions rich, and who have had great possessions; for this is all that makes nobility at present. Yet they do not think themselves a whit the less noble, though their immediate parents have left none of this wealth to them, or though they themselves have squandered it away. The Utopians have no better opinion of those who are much taken with gems and precious stones, and who account it a degree of happiness next to a divine one if they can purchase one that is very extraordinary, especially if it be of that sort of stones that is then in greatest request, for the same sort is not at all times universally of the same value, nor will men buy it unless it be dismounted and taken out of the gold. The jeweller is then made to give good security, and required solemnly to swear that the stone is true, that, by such an exact caution, a false one might not be bought instead of a true; though, if you were to examine it, your eye could find no difference between the counterfeit and that which is true; so that they are all one to you, as much as if you were blind. Or can it be thought that they who heap up a useless mass of wealth, not for any use that it is to bring them, but merely to please themselves with the contemplation of it, enjoy any true pleasure in it? The delight they find is only a false shadow of joy. Those are no better whose error is somewhat different from the former, and who hide it out of their fear of losing it; for what other name can fit the hiding it in the earth, or, rather, the restoring it to it again, it being thus cut off from being useful either to its owner or to the rest of mankind? And yet the owner, having hid it carefully, is glad, because he thinks he is now sure of it. If it should be stole, the owner, though he might live perhaps ten years after the theft, of which he knew nothing, would find no difference between his having or losing it, for both ways it was equally useless to him.
“Many things offer no real pleasure in themselves. On the contrary, they contain a great deal of bitterness. Yet our twisted desire for forbidden things makes us count them as pleasures. We even make them our greatest goals in life. Among those pursuing these false pleasures, the Utopians include the people I mentioned earlier, who think fine clothes make them better. The Utopians believe these people are doubly mistaken, both about their clothes and about themselves. If you consider what clothes are for, why should fine thread be better than coarse thread? Yet these people act as though they have real advantages over others, rather than advantages existing only in their imagination. They put on airs and seem to think themselves more worthy. They imagine their rich clothes entitle them to respect they would never have expected in plainer clothing. They even take offense when that respect is denied. It is also very foolish to delight in outward signs of respect that mean nothing. What real pleasure can anyone find in another person taking off his hat or bowing to him? Will another man bending his knees bring relief to yours? Will his uncovered head cure the madness in yours? Yet it is astonishing how this false idea of pleasure enchants so many people who delight in their supposed nobility. They take pleasure in the thought that their ancestors were considered wealthy for several generations and owned great estates. For that is all that makes someone noble today. Yet they think themselves no less noble if their own parents left them none of this wealth. Nor do they think themselves less noble if they have squandered it themselves. The Utopians think no better of people who are fascinated by gems and precious stones. These people consider buying an exceptional stone a happiness almost equal to that of the gods. They are especially pleased if it is the kind of stone currently most sought after. For the same kind of stone is not always valued equally by everyone. Nor will these buyers purchase it unless it has been removed from its gold setting. The jeweler must then provide a firm guarantee and solemnly swear that the stone is genuine. They take such careful precautions to avoid buying a fake instead of a real stone. Yet if you examined them, your eyes could find no difference between the fake and the genuine stone. So they are exactly the same to you, just as they would be if you were blind. Can people who pile up useless wealth be thought to find any real pleasure in it? They seek no benefit from it, but merely enjoy looking at it. Their delight is only a false shadow of joy. Others are no better, though their mistake is somewhat different. They hide their wealth for fear of losing it. What else can we call burying it in the earth, or rather, returning it there? They make it useless both to themselves and to everyone else. Yet once the owner has hidden it carefully, he is happy, thinking it is now safe. Suppose it were stolen without his knowledge, and he lived perhaps another ten years. He would find no difference between keeping it and losing it. Either way, it was equally useless to him.
“Among those foolish pursuers of pleasure they reckon all that delight in hunting, in fowling, or gaming, of whose madness they have only heard, for they have no such things among them. But they have asked us, ‘What sort of pleasure is it that men can find in throwing the dice?’ (for if there were any pleasure in it, they think the doing it so often should give one a surfeit of it); ‘and what pleasure can one find in hearing the barking and howling of dogs, which seem rather odious than pleasant sounds?’ Nor can they comprehend the pleasure of seeing dogs run after a hare, more than of seeing one dog run after another; for if the seeing them run is that which gives the pleasure, you have the same entertainment to the eye on both these occasions, since that is the same in both cases. But if the pleasure lies in seeing the hare killed and torn by the dogs, this ought rather to stir pity, that a weak, harmless, and fearful hare should be devoured by strong, fierce, and cruel dogs. Therefore all this business of hunting is, among the Utopians, turned over to their butchers, and those, as has been already said, are all slaves, and they look on hunting as one of the basest parts of a butcher’s work, for they account it both more profitable and more decent to kill those beasts that are more necessary and useful to mankind, whereas the killing and tearing of so small and miserable an animal can only attract the huntsman with a false show of pleasure, from which he can reap but small advantage. They look on the desire of the bloodshed, even of beasts, as a mark of a mind that is already corrupted with cruelty, or that at least, by too frequent returns of so brutal a pleasure, must degenerate into it.
“Among these foolish pleasure-seekers, they include all who enjoy hunting, catching birds, or gambling. They have only heard of such madness, since none of these activities exists among them. But they have asked us, ‘What pleasure can people find in throwing dice?’ They think that if it gave any pleasure, repeating it so often should make people sick of it. ‘And what pleasure can anyone find in the barking and howling of dogs? These sounds seem unpleasant rather than pleasing.’ Nor can they understand why watching dogs chase a hare is more enjoyable than watching one dog chase another. If watching them run gives pleasure, both sights offer the same entertainment. The running is the same in both cases. But if the pleasure comes from seeing dogs kill and tear apart the hare, that should stir pity instead. A weak, harmless, frightened hare is being devoured by strong, fierce, cruel dogs. So the Utopians leave all hunting to their butchers, who, as already mentioned, are all slaves. They consider hunting one of the lowest parts of a butcher’s work. They think killing animals that are more necessary and useful to humanity is both more profitable and more respectable. Killing and tearing apart such a small, pitiful animal can attract the hunter only through a false promise of pleasure. He gains very little from it. They see the desire for bloodshed, even the bloodshed of animals, as a sign of a mind already corrupted by cruelty. Or at least, a mind that indulges too often in such brutal pleasure must become cruel.”
“Thus though the rabble of mankind look upon these, and on innumerable other things of the same nature, as pleasures, the Utopians, on the contrary, observing that there is nothing in them truly pleasant, conclude that they are not to be reckoned among pleasures; for though these things may create some tickling in the senses (which seems to be a true notion of pleasure), yet they imagine that this does not arise from the thing itself, but from a depraved custom, which may so vitiate a man’s taste that bitter things may pass for sweet, as women with child think pitch or tallow taste sweeter than honey; but as a man’s sense, when corrupted either by a disease or some ill habit, does not change the nature of other things, so neither can it change the nature of pleasure.
“Most people consider these things, and countless others like them, pleasures. The Utopians, however, find nothing truly pleasant in them. They therefore conclude that these things should not count as pleasures. Such things may stimulate the senses, which seems to be what pleasure truly means. Yet the Utopians believe this sensation comes not from the thing itself, but from a corrupted habit. Such habits can so distort someone’s taste that bitter things seem sweet. Pregnant women, for example, may find pitch or animal fat sweeter than honey. But senses distorted by illness or bad habits do not change the nature of things. Neither can they change the nature of pleasure.”
“They reckon up several sorts of pleasures, which they call true ones; some belong to the body, and others to the mind. The pleasures of the mind lie in knowledge, and in that delight which the contemplation of truth carries with it; to which they add the joyful reflections on a well-spent life, and the assured hopes of a future happiness. They divide the pleasures of the body into two sorts—the one is that which gives our senses some real delight, and is performed either by recruiting Nature and supplying those parts which feed the internal heat of life by eating and drinking, or when Nature is eased of any surcharge that oppresses it, when we are relieved from sudden pain, or that which arises from satisfying the appetite which Nature has wisely given to lead us to the propagation of the species. There is another kind of pleasure that arises neither from our receiving what the body requires, nor its being relieved when overcharged, and yet, by a secret unseen virtue, affects the senses, raises the passions, and strikes the mind with generous impressions—this is, the pleasure that arises from music. Another kind of bodily pleasure is that which results from an undisturbed and vigorous constitution of body, when life and active spirits seem to actuate every part. This lively health, when entirely free from all mixture of pain, of itself gives an inward pleasure, independent of all external objects of delight; and though this pleasure does not so powerfully affect us, nor act so strongly on the senses as some of the others, yet it may be esteemed as the greatest of all pleasures; and almost all the Utopians reckon it the foundation and basis of all the other joys of life, since this alone makes the state of life easy and desirable, and when this is wanting, a man is really capable of no other pleasure. They look upon freedom from pain, if it does not rise from perfect health, to be a state of stupidity rather than of pleasure. This subject has been very narrowly canvassed among them, and it has been debated whether a firm and entire health could be called a pleasure or not. Some have thought that there was no pleasure but what was ‘excited’ by some sensible motion in the body. But this opinion has been long ago excluded from among them; so that now they almost universally agree that health is the greatest of all bodily pleasures; and that as there is a pain in sickness which is as opposite in its nature to pleasure as sickness itself is to health, so they hold that health is accompanied with pleasure. And if any should say that sickness is not really pain, but that it only carries pain along with it, they look upon that as a fetch of subtlety that does not much alter the matter. It is all one, in their opinion, whether it be said that health is in itself a pleasure, or that it begets a pleasure, as fire gives heat, so it be granted that all those whose health is entire have a true pleasure in the enjoyment of it. And they reason thus:—‘What is the pleasure of eating, but that a man’s health, which had been weakened, does, with the assistance of food, drive away hunger, and so recruiting itself, recovers its former vigour? And being thus refreshed it finds a pleasure in that conflict; and if the conflict is pleasure, the victory must yet breed a greater pleasure, except we fancy that it becomes stupid as soon as it has obtained that which it pursued, and so neither knows nor rejoices in its own welfare.’ If it is said that health cannot be felt, they absolutely deny it; for what man is in health, that does not perceive it when he is awake? Is there any man that is so dull and stupid as not to acknowledge that he feels a delight in health? And what is delight but another name for pleasure?
“They identify several kinds of pleasure that they consider genuine. Some belong to the body, and others to the mind. Mental pleasures come from knowledge and the delight of contemplating truth. They also include happy memories of a well-spent life and confident hopes of future happiness. They divide bodily pleasures into two kinds. The first gives our senses a direct delight. This happens when eating and drinking restore the body and supply what sustains the inner warmth of life. It also happens when the body gets rid of an oppressive excess or finds relief from sudden pain. Another example is satisfying the sexual desire that nature wisely gave us to encourage reproduction. Another pleasure comes neither from supplying the body’s needs nor from relieving an excess. Yet through a hidden, unseen power, it affects the senses, stirs the emotions, and fills the mind with noble feelings. This is the pleasure of music. The other kind of bodily pleasure comes from a healthy, vigorous body, with life and energy animating every part. This vibrant health, when entirely free from pain, gives an inner pleasure of its own. It depends on no outside source of delight. It does not affect us as powerfully or strike our senses as strongly as some other pleasures. Yet it may be considered the greatest pleasure of all. Almost all Utopians regard it as the foundation of every other joy in life. Health alone makes life comfortable and desirable. Without it, a person is truly incapable of any other pleasure. They consider freedom from pain, unless it comes from perfect health, a state of numbness rather than pleasure. They have examined this subject very closely. They have debated whether sound and complete health can be called a pleasure. Some thought pleasure existed only when some noticeable movement in the body ‘stimulated’ it. But they rejected this view long ago. Now they almost universally agree that health is the greatest bodily pleasure. Sickness brings pain, which is as contrary to pleasure as sickness itself is to health. In the same way, they hold that health brings pleasure. Some might argue that sickness is not itself pain, but merely brings pain with it. They consider this a fine distinction that makes little difference. In their view, it makes no difference whether health is itself a pleasure or produces pleasure as fire produces heat. What matters is accepting that everyone in complete health takes genuine pleasure in enjoying it. They reason this way: ‘What is the pleasure of eating? Our health has been weakened, but with food’s help, it drives away hunger and regains its former strength. As it recovers, it takes pleasure in that struggle. If the struggle is pleasurable, victory must bring even greater pleasure. Otherwise, we must imagine that health becomes numb the moment it gets what it sought. It would then neither recognize nor rejoice in its own well-being.’ They firmly deny the claim that health cannot be felt. What healthy person fails to notice their health while awake? Is anyone so dull and unfeeling that they do not recognize the delight they take in health? And what is delight but another name for pleasure?”
“But, of all pleasures, they esteem those to be most valuable that lie in the mind, the chief of which arise out of true virtue and the witness of a good conscience. They account health the chief pleasure that belongs to the body; for they think that the pleasure of eating and drinking, and all the other delights of sense, are only so far desirable as they give or maintain health; but they are not pleasant in themselves otherwise than as they resist those impressions that our natural infirmities are still making upon us. For as a wise man desires rather to avoid diseases than to take physic, and to be freed from pain rather than to find ease by remedies, so it is more desirable not to need this sort of pleasure than to be obliged to indulge it. If any man imagines that there is a real happiness in these enjoyments, he must then confess that he would be the happiest of all men if he were to lead his life in perpetual hunger, thirst, and itching, and, by consequence, in perpetual eating, drinking, and scratching himself; which any one may easily see would be not only a base, but a miserable, state of a life. These are, indeed, the lowest of pleasures, and the least pure, for we can never relish them but when they are mixed with the contrary pains. The pain of hunger must give us the pleasure of eating, and here the pain out-balances the pleasure. And as the pain is more vehement, so it lasts much longer; for as it begins before the pleasure, so it does not cease but with the pleasure that extinguishes it, and both expire together. They think, therefore, none of those pleasures are to be valued any further than as they are necessary; yet they rejoice in them, and with due gratitude acknowledge the tenderness of the great Author of Nature, who has planted in us appetites, by which those things that are necessary for our preservation are likewise made pleasant to us. For how miserable a thing would life be if those daily diseases of hunger and thirst were to be carried off by such bitter drugs as we must use for those diseases that return seldomer upon us! And thus these pleasant, as well as proper, gifts of Nature maintain the strength and the sprightliness of our bodies.
“But of all pleasures, they value those of the mind most highly. The greatest of these come from true virtue and the assurance of a clear conscience. They consider health the body's greatest pleasure. They think eating, drinking, and all other pleasures of the senses are desirable only because they provide or preserve health. These things are not pleasant in themselves. Their pleasure comes only from relieving the discomforts that our natural weaknesses constantly cause us. A wise person would rather avoid illness than take medicine, and be free from pain than relieve it with remedies. Likewise, it is better not to need this kind of pleasure than to be forced to seek it. If anyone believes these enjoyments bring true happiness, he must admit what follows. He would be happiest if he spent his life constantly hungry, thirsty, and itching, and therefore constantly eating, drinking, and scratching. Anyone can easily see that such a life would be not only degrading but miserable. These are indeed the lowest and least pure pleasures. We can enjoy them only when they are mixed with the pains they relieve. The pain of hunger must produce the pleasure of eating, and here the pain outweighs the pleasure. The pain is also more intense and lasts much longer. It begins before the pleasure and ends only when the pleasure puts it out. Both end together. They therefore think none of these pleasures should be valued beyond what necessity requires. Yet they enjoy them and gratefully acknowledge the loving care of the great Creator of Nature. He has given us appetites that make the things necessary for our survival pleasant as well. How miserable life would be if hunger and thirst, those daily illnesses, had to be cured with bitter medicines. We must use such medicines for illnesses that trouble us less often. In this way, Nature's gifts, both pleasant and well suited to our needs, keep our bodies strong and lively.
“They also entertain themselves with the other delights let in at their eyes, their ears, and their nostrils as the pleasant relishes and seasoning of life, which Nature seems to have marked out peculiarly for man, since no other sort of animals contemplates the figure and beauty of the universe, nor is delighted with smells any further than as they distinguish meats by them; nor do they apprehend the concords or discords of sound. Yet, in all pleasures whatsoever, they take care that a lesser joy does not hinder a greater, and that pleasure may never breed pain, which they think always follows dishonest pleasures. But they think it madness for a man to wear out the beauty of his face or the force of his natural strength, to corrupt the sprightliness of his body by sloth and laziness, or to waste it by fasting; that it is madness to weaken the strength of his constitution and reject the other delights of life, unless by renouncing his own satisfaction he can either serve the public or promote the happiness of others, for which he expects a greater recompense from God. So that they look on such a course of life as the mark of a mind that is both cruel to itself and ungrateful to the Author of Nature, as if we would not be beholden to Him for His favours, and therefore rejects all His blessings; as one who should afflict himself for the empty shadow of virtue, or for no better end than to render himself capable of bearing those misfortunes which possibly will never happen.
“They also enjoy the pleasures of sight, hearing, and smell as pleasant flavors that enrich life. Nature seems to have set these pleasures aside especially for humans. No other animals contemplate the shape and beauty of the universe. They enjoy smells only as a way to distinguish foods. Nor do they recognize harmony or discord in sounds. Yet in all pleasures, they take care that a lesser joy does not stand in the way of a greater one. They also make sure that pleasure never causes pain, which they believe always follows immoral pleasures. But they think it madness for anyone to wear away their good looks or natural strength. They think it madness to dull the body's energy through laziness or waste it through fasting. It is madness to weaken one's health and reject life's other pleasures, unless this self-denial serves the public or makes others happier. For this, they expect a greater reward from God. Otherwise, they see such a life as showing a mind both cruel to itself and ungrateful to the Creator of Nature. It is as though someone refused to owe him thanks for his favors and therefore rejected all his blessings. Such a person makes themselves suffer for an empty appearance of virtue. Or they do so merely to prepare themselves to endure misfortunes that may never happen.
“This is their notion of virtue and of pleasure: they think that no man’s reason can carry him to a truer idea of them unless some discovery from heaven should inspire him with sublimer notions. I have not now the leisure to examine whether they think right or wrong in this matter; nor do I judge it necessary, for I have only undertaken to give you an account of their constitution, but not to defend all their principles. I am sure that whatever may be said of their notions, there is not in the whole world either a better people or a happier government. Their bodies are vigorous and lively; and though they are but of a middle stature, and have neither the fruitfullest soil nor the purest air in the world; yet they fortify themselves so well, by their temperate course of life, against the unhealthiness of their air, and by their industry they so cultivate their soil, that there is nowhere to be seen a greater increase, both of corn and cattle, nor are there anywhere healthier men and freer from diseases; for one may there see reduced to practice not only all the art that the husbandman employs in manuring and improving an ill soil, but whole woods plucked up by the roots, and in other places new ones planted, where there were none before. Their principal motive for this is the convenience of carriage, that their timber may be either near their towns or growing on the banks of the sea, or of some rivers, so as to be floated to them; for it is a harder work to carry wood at any distance over land than corn. The people are industrious, apt to learn, as well as cheerful and pleasant, and none can endure more labour when it is necessary; but, except in that case, they love their ease. They are unwearied pursuers of knowledge; for when we had given them some hints of the learning and discipline of the Greeks, concerning whom we only instructed them (for we know that there was nothing among the Romans, except their historians and their poets, that they would value much), it was strange to see how eagerly they were set on learning that language: we began to read a little of it to them, rather in compliance with their importunity than out of any hopes of their reaping from it any great advantage: but, after a very short trial, we found they made such progress, that we saw our labour was like to be more successful than we could have expected: they learned to write their characters and to pronounce their language so exactly, had so quick an apprehension, they remembered it so faithfully, and became so ready and correct in the use of it, that it would have looked like a miracle if the greater part of those whom we taught had not been men both of extraordinary capacity and of a fit age for instruction: they were, for the greatest part, chosen from among their learned men by their chief council, though some studied it of their own accord. In three years’ time they became masters of the whole language, so that they read the best of the Greek authors very exactly. I am, indeed, apt to think that they learned that language the more easily from its having some relation to their own. I believe that they were a colony of the Greeks; for though their language comes nearer the Persian, yet they retain many names, both for their towns and magistrates, that are of Greek derivation. I happened to carry a great many books with me, instead of merchandise, when I sailed my fourth voyage; for I was so far from thinking of soon coming back, that I rather thought never to have returned at all, and I gave them all my books, among which were many of Plato’s and some of Aristotle’s works: I had also Theophrastus on Plants, which, to my great regret, was imperfect; for having laid it carelessly by, while we were at sea, a monkey had seized upon it, and in many places torn out the leaves. They have no books of grammar but Lascares, for I did not carry Theodorus with me; nor have they any dictionaries but Hesichius and Dioscerides. They esteem Plutarch highly, and were much taken with Lucian’s wit and with his pleasant way of writing. As for the poets, they have Aristophanes, Homer, Euripides, and Sophocles of Aldus’s edition; and for historians, Thucydides, Herodotus, and Herodian. One of my companions, Thricius Apinatus, happened to carry with him some of Hippocrates’s works and Galen’s Microtechne, which they hold in great estimation; for though there is no nation in the world that needs physic so little as they do, yet there is not any that honours it so much; they reckon the knowledge of it one of the pleasantest and most profitable parts of philosophy, by which, as they search into the secrets of nature, so they not only find this study highly agreeable, but think that such inquiries are very acceptable to the Author of nature; and imagine, that as He, like the inventors of curious engines amongst mankind, has exposed this great machine of the universe to the view of the only creatures capable of contemplating it, so an exact and curious observer, who admires His workmanship, is much more acceptable to Him than one of the herd, who, like a beast incapable of reason, looks on this glorious scene with the eyes of a dull and unconcerned spectator.
“This is their understanding of virtue and pleasure. They think human reason can reach no truer understanding without a revelation from heaven inspiring higher ideas. I have no time now to examine whether they are right or wrong about this. Nor do I think it necessary. I have only undertaken to describe their system of government, not to defend all their principles. Whatever may be said of their ideas, I am sure no people anywhere are better or better governed. Their bodies are strong and energetic, though they are only of medium height. They have neither the most fertile soil nor the purest air in the world. Yet their moderate way of life protects them so well against the unhealthy air. Through hard work, they cultivate their soil so successfully that nowhere produces more grain and livestock. Nor are people anywhere healthier or freer from disease. They put into practice every farming technique for fertilizing and improving poor soil. They also uproot whole forests and plant new ones where none grew before. Their main purpose is to make transport easier. They want timber near their towns, or beside the sea or rivers, so it can be floated to them. Transporting wood overland for any distance is harder than transporting grain. The people are hardworking, quick to learn, cheerful, and pleasant. No one can endure more work when necessary. Otherwise, however, they enjoy their leisure. “They never tire of pursuing knowledge. We gave them some introduction to Greek learning and scholarship. We taught them only about the Greeks. We knew they would find little to value among Roman writers except their historians and poets. It was remarkable to see how eagerly they wanted to learn Greek. We began reading a little Greek to them, mainly because they kept asking. We had little hope that they would gain much from it. But after a very short trial, their progress showed that our efforts would succeed beyond our expectations. They learned to write the Greek letters and pronounce the language with great accuracy. They understood so quickly, remembered so faithfully, and used the language so readily and correctly that it seemed almost miraculous. It would have seemed a miracle, except that most of our students had extraordinary ability and were of a suitable age. Their chief council chose most of them from among their scholars, though some studied on their own initiative. Within three years, they had mastered the whole language and could read the finest Greek authors with great accuracy. Indeed, I am inclined to think they learned it more easily because it has some connection with their own language. I believe they originated as a Greek colony. Their language is closer to Persian, but many names for their towns and public officials come from Greek. “On my fourth voyage, I happened to take many books with me instead of goods to trade. Far from expecting to return soon, I thought I might never return at all. I gave them all my books, including many works by Plato and some by Aristotle. I also had Theophrastus’s work on plants, which, to my great regret, was incomplete. While we were at sea, I had carelessly left it lying around. A monkey seized it and tore out pages in many places. Their only grammar book is Lascares, since I did not bring Theodorus with me. Their only dictionaries are Hesichius and Dioscerides. They value Plutarch highly and greatly enjoyed Lucian’s wit and entertaining style. Among the poets, they have Aristophanes, Homer, Euripides, and Sophocles, in Aldus’s editions. Among historians, they have Thucydides, Herodotus, and Herodian. “One of my companions, Thricius Apinatus, happened to bring some works by Hippocrates and Galen’s Microtechne. They value these greatly. No nation in the world needs medicine less, yet none honors it more. They consider medical knowledge one of the most enjoyable and useful branches of philosophy. Through it, they explore nature’s secrets. They find this study deeply satisfying and believe such inquiries are very pleasing to the Creator of nature. They compare him to human inventors who display ingenious machines. He has displayed the great machine of the universe to the only creatures capable of contemplating it. They therefore believe a careful, curious observer who admires his workmanship is far more pleasing to him than an unthinking person. Such a person is like an animal without reason, watching this glorious scene with dull, indifferent eyes.”
“The minds of the Utopians, when fenced with a love for learning, are very ingenious in discovering all such arts as are necessary to carry it to perfection. Two things they owe to us, the manufacture of paper and the art of printing; yet they are not so entirely indebted to us for these discoveries but that a great part of the invention was their own. We showed them some books printed by Aldus, we explained to them the way of making paper and the mystery of printing; but, as we had never practised these arts, we described them in a crude and superficial manner. They seized the hints we gave them; and though at first they could not arrive at perfection, yet by making many essays they at last found out and corrected all their errors and conquered every difficulty. Before this they only wrote on parchment, on reeds, or on the barks of trees; but now they have established the manufactures of paper and set up printing presses, so that, if they had but a good number of Greek authors, they would be quickly supplied with many copies of them: at present, though they have no more than those I have mentioned, yet, by several impressions, they have multiplied them into many thousands. If any man was to go among them that had some extraordinary talent, or that by much travelling had observed the customs of many nations (which made us to be so well received), he would receive a hearty welcome, for they are very desirous to know the state of the whole world. Very few go among them on the account of traffic; for what can a man carry to them but iron, or gold, or silver? which merchants desire rather to export than import to a strange country: and as for their exportation, they think it better to manage that themselves than to leave it to foreigners, for by this means, as they understand the state of the neighbouring countries better, so they keep up the art of navigation which cannot be maintained but by much practice.
“The Utopians’ love of learning makes them very inventive in discovering all the skills needed to bring it to perfection. They owe two things to us, papermaking and printing. Yet much of the work of developing these inventions was their own. We showed them some books printed by Aldus and explained how paper was made and printing was done. But we had never practiced these crafts ourselves, so our explanations were rough and superficial. They eagerly took up the hints we gave them. At first, their work fell short of perfection. But after many experiments, they found and corrected all their errors and overcame every difficulty. Before this, they wrote only on parchment, reeds, or tree bark. Now they have established paper mills and printing presses. If they had a good collection of Greek authors, they could quickly produce many copies of their works. At present, they have only the works I have mentioned. Still, through repeated printings, they have produced many thousands of copies. Anyone with an exceptional talent would receive a warm welcome among them. So would anyone whose extensive travels had taught them the customs of many nations. This was why they welcomed us so warmly. They are very eager to learn about conditions throughout the world. Very few people visit them to trade. What could anyone bring them except iron, gold, or silver? Merchants prefer to take these out of a foreign country rather than bring them in. As for their exports, the Utopians think it better to handle these themselves rather than leave them to foreigners. This gives them a better understanding of conditions in neighboring countries. It also keeps their seafaring skills sharp, since these can only be maintained through frequent practice.