,utopia    by ,thomas ,more             
,contents     ,,introduction            
,,discourses ,,of ,,raphael ,,hythloday1
 ,,of ,,the ,,best ,,state ,,of ,a      
,,commonwealth   ,,of ,,their ,,towns1  
,,particularly ,,of ,,amaurot   ,,of    
,,their ,,magistrates   ,,of ,,their    
,,trades1 ,,and ,,manner ,,of ,,life    
,,of ,,their ,,traffic   ,,of ,,the     
,,travelling ,,of ,,the ,,utopians      
,,of ,,their ,,slaves1 ,,and ,,of       
,,their ,,marriages   ,,of ,,their      
,,military ,,discipline   ,,of ,,the    
,,religions ,,of ,,the ,,utopians       
,,utopia          ,,introduction        
,sir ,thomas ,more1 son of ,sir ,john   
,more1 a justice of the ,king's ,bench1 
was born in #adgh1 in ,milk ,street1 in 
the city of ,london4 ,after his  earlier
 education at ,st4 ,anthony's ,school1  
in ,threadneedle ,street1 he  was       
placed1 as a boy1 in the household of   
,cardinal ,john ,morton1  ,archbishop of
 ,canterbury and ,lord ,chancellor4 ,it 
was not unusual for  persons of wealth  

or influence and sons of good families  
to be so  established together in a     
relation of patron and client4 ,the     
youth wore  his patron's livery1 and    
added to his state4 ,the patron used1   
afterwards1 his wealth or influence in  
helping his young client forward  in the
 world4 ,cardinal ,morton had been in   
earlier days that ,bishop of  ,ely whom 
,richard ,,iii4 sent to the ,tower2 was 
busy afterwards in  hostility to        
,richard2 and was a chief adviser of    
,henry ,,vii41 who in  #adhf made him   
,archbishop of ,canterbury1 and nine    
months afterwards ,lord  ,chancellor4   
,cardinal ,morton--of talk at whose     
table there are  recollections in       
8,utopia0--delighted in the quick wit of
 young ,thomas  ,more4 ,he once said1   
8,whoever shall live to try it1 shall   
see this child  here waiting at table   
prove a notable and rare man40    ,at   
the age of about nineteen1 ,thomas ,more
 was sent to ,canterbury  ,college1     
,oxford1 by his patron1 where he learnt 

,greek of the first men  who brought    
,greek studies from ,italy to           
,england--,william ,grocyn and  ,thomas 
,linacre4 ,linacre1 a physician1 who    
afterwards took orders1 was  also the   
founder of the ,college of ,physicians4 
,in #adii1 ,more left  ,oxford to study 
law in ,london1 at ,lincoln's ,inn1 and 
in the next year  ,archbishop ,morton   
died4    ,more's earnest character      
caused him while studying law to aim at 
the  subduing of the flesh1 by wearing a
 hair shirt1 taking a log for a  pillow1
 and whipping himself on ,fridays4 ,at  
the age of twenty-one he  entered       
,parliament1 and soon after he had been 
called to the bar he was  made          
,under-,sheriff of ,london4 ,in #aejc he
 opposed in the ,house of  ,commons     
,henry ,,vii4's proposal for a subsidy  
on account of the marriage  portion of  
his daughter ,margaret2 and he opposed  
with so much energy  that the ,house    
refused to grant it4 ,one went and told 
the king that a  beardless boy had      

disappointed all his expectations4      
,during the last  years1 therefore1 of  
,henry ,,vii4 ,more was under the       
displeasure of the  king1 and had       
thoughts of leaving the country4        
,henry ,,vii4 died in ,april1 #aeji1    
when ,more's age was a little over      
thirty4 ,in the first years of the reign
 of ,henry ,,viii4 he rose to large     
practice in the law courts1 where it is 
said he refused to plead in  cases which
 he thought unjust1 and took no fees    
from widows1 orphans1  or the poor4 ,he 
would have preferred marrying the second
 daughter of  ,john ,colt1 of ,new      
,hall1 in ,essex1 but chose her elder   
sister1 that he  might not subject her  
to the discredit of being passed over4  
,in #aeac ,thomas ,more1 still          
,under-,sheriff of ,london1 is said to  
have  written his 8,history of the ,life
 and ,death of ,king ,edward ,v41 and of
  the ,usurpation of ,richard ,,iii40   
,the book1 which seems to contain the   
knowledge and opinions of ,more's       

patron1 ,morton1 was not printed until  
#aeeg1 when its writer had been         
twenty-two years dead4 ,it was then     
printed from a ,,ms4 in ,more's         
handwriting4    ,in the year #aeae      
,wolsey1 ,archbishop of ,york1 was made 
,cardinal by ,leo  ,x42 ,henry ,,viii4  
made him ,lord ,chancellor1 and from    
that year until #aebc  the ,king and the
 ,cardinal ruled ,england with absolute 
authority1 and  called no parliament4   
,in ,may of the year #aeae ,thomas      
,more--not knighted  yet--was joined in 
a commission to the ,low ,countries with
 ,cuthbert  ,tunstal and others to      
confer with the ambassadors of ,charles 
,v41 then  only ,archduke of ,austria1  
upon a renewal of alliance4 ,on that    
embassy  ,more1 aged about thirty-seven1
 was absent from ,england for six       
months1  and while at ,antwerp he       
established friendship with ,peter      
,giles  7,latinised gidius71 a scholarly
 and courteous young man1 who was       
secretary to the municipality of        

,antwerp4    ,cuthbert ,tunstal was a   
rising churchman1 chancellor to the     
,archbishop  of ,canterbury1 who in that
 year 7#aeae7 was made ,archdeacon of   
,chester1  and in ,may of the next year 
7#aeaf7 ,master of the ,rolls4 ,in #aeaf
 he was  sent again to the ,low         
,countries1 and ,more then went with him
 to  ,brussels1 where they were in close
 companionship with ,erasmus4    ,more's
 8,utopia0 was written in ,latin1 and is
 in two parts1 of which the  second1    
describing the place 7,greek text--or   
,nusquama1 as he called it  sometimes in
 his letters--8,nowhere071 was probably 
written towards the  close of #aeae2 the
 first part1 introductory1 early in     
#aeaf4 ,the book  was first printed at  
,louvain1 late in #aeaf1 under the      
editorship of  ,erasmus1 ,peter ,giles1 
and other of ,more's friends in         
,flanders4 ,it was  then revised by     
,more1 and printed by ,frobenius at     
,basle in ,november1  #aeah4 ,it was    
reprinted at ,paris and ,vienna1 but was

 not printed in  ,england during ,more's
 lifetime4 ,its first publication in    
this country  was in the ,english       
translation1 made in ,edward's ,,vi4's  
reign 7#aeea7 by  ,ralph ,robinson4 ,it 
was translated with more literary skill 
by ,gilbert  ,burnet1 in #afhd1 soon    
after he had conducted the defence of   
his friend  ,lord ,william ,russell1    
attended his execution1 vindicated his  
memory1  and been spitefully deprived by
 ,james ,,ii4 of his lectureship at ,st4
  ,clement's4 ,burnet was drawn to the  
translation of 8,utopia0 by the same    
sense of unreason in high places that   
caused ,more to write the book4         
,burnet's is the translation given in   
this volume4    ,the name of the book   
has given an adjective to our           
language--we call an  impracticable     
scheme ,utopian4 ,yet1 under the veil of
 a playful fiction1  the talk is        
intensely earnest1 and abounds in       
practical suggestion4 ,it  is the work  
of a scholarly and witty ,englishman1   

who attacks in his own  way the chief   
political and social evils of his time4 
,beginning with  fact1 ,more tells how  
he was sent into ,flanders with         
,cuthbert ,tunstal1  8whom the king's   
majesty of late1 to the great rejoicing 
of all men1  did prefer to the office of
 ,master of the ,rolls20 how the        
commissioners  of ,charles met them at  
,bruges1 and presently returned to      
,brussels for  instructions2 and how    
,more then went to ,antwerp1 where he   
found a  pleasure in the society of     
,peter ,giles which soothed his desire  
to see  again his wife and children1    
from whom he had been four months away4 
,then fact slides into fiction with the 
finding of ,raphael ,hythloday  7whose  
name1 made of two ,greek words ,greek   
text and ,greek text1  means 8knowing in
 trifles071 a man who had been with     
,amerigo ,vespucci  in the three last of
 the voyages to the new world lately    
discovered1 of  which the account had   
been first printed in #aejg1 only nine  

years  before ,utopia was written4      
,designedly fantastic in suggestion of  
details1 8,utopia0 is the work of  a    
scholar who had read ,plato's           
8,republic10 and had his fancy quickened
  after reading ,plutarch's account of  
,spartan life under ,lycurgus4  ,beneath
 the veil of an ideal communism1 into   
which there has been  worked some witty 
extravagance1 there lies a noble        
,english argument4  ,sometimes ,more    
puts the case as of ,france when he     
means ,england4  ,sometimes there is    
ironical praise of the good faith of    
,christian  kings1 saving the book from 
censure as a political attack on the    
policy  of ,henry ,,viii4 ,erasmus wrote
 to a friend in #aeag that he should    
send  for ,more's 8,utopia10 if he had  
not read it1 and 8wished to see the true
  source of all political evils40 ,and  
to ,more ,erasmus wrote of his book1    
8,a burgomaster of ,antwerp is so       
pleased with it that he knows it all by 
heart40    ,h4 ,m4          ,,discourses

 ,,of ,,raphael ,,hythloday1 ,,of ,,the 
,,best ,,state ,,of ,a ,,commonwealth   
,henry ,,viii41 the unconquered ,king of
 ,england1 a prince adorned with all    
the virtues that become a great monarch1
 having some differences of no  small   
consequence with ,charles the most      
serene ,prince of ,castile1 sent  me    
into ,flanders1 as his ambassador1 for  
treating and composing matters  between 
them4 ,i was colleague and companion to 
that incomparable man  ,cuthbert        
,tonstal1 whom the ,king1 with such     
universal applause1 lately  made ,master
 of the ,rolls2 but of whom ,i will say 
nothing2 not because ,i  fear that the  
testimony of a friend will be suspected1
 but rather  because his learning and   
virtues are too great for me to do them 
justice1 and so well known1 that they   
need not my commendations1 unless  ,i   
would1 according to the proverb1 8,show 
the sun with a lantern40 ,those  that   
were appointed by the ,prince to treat  
with us1 met us at ,bruges1  according  

to agreement2 they were all worthy men4 
,the ,margrave of  ,bruges was their    
head1 and the chief man among them2 but 
he that was  esteemed the wisest1 and   
that spoke for the rest1 was ,george    
,temse1 the  ,provost of ,casselsee3    
both art and nature had concurred to    
make him  eloquent3 he was very learned 
in the law2 and1 as he had a great      
capacity1 so1 by a long practice in     
affairs1 he was very dexterous at       
unravelling them4 ,after we had several 
times met1 without coming to an         
agreement1 they went to ,brussels for   
some days1 to know the ,prince's        
pleasure2 and1 since our business would 
admit it1 ,i went to ,antwerp4  ,while  
,i was there1 among many that visited   
me1 there was one that was  more        
acceptable to me than any other1 ,peter 
,giles1 born at ,antwerp1 who  is a man 
of great honour1 and of a good rank in  
his town1 though less  than he deserves2
 for ,i do not know if there be anywhere
 to be found a  more learned and a      

better bred young man2 for as he is both
 a very  worthy and a very knowing      
person1 so he is so civil to all men1 so
  particularly kind to his friends1 and 
so full of candour and affection1  that 
there is not1 perhaps1 above one or two 
anywhere to be found1 that  is in all   
respects so perfect a friend3 he is     
extraordinarily modest1  there is no    
artifice in him1 and yet no man has more
 of a prudent  simplicity4 ,his         
conversation was so pleasant and so     
innocently  cheerful1 that his company  
in a great measure lessened any longings
 to  go back to my country1 and to my   
wife and children1 which an absence of  
four months had quickened very much4    
,one day1 as ,i was returning home  from
 mass at ,st4 ,mary's1 which is the     
chief church1 and the most  frequented  
of any in ,antwerp1 ,i saw him1 by      
accident1 talking with a  stranger1 who 
seemed past the flower of his age2 his  
face was tanned1  he had a long beard1  
and his cloak was hanging carelessly    

about him1 so  that1 by his looks and   
habit1 ,i concluded he was a seaman4 ,as
 soon as  ,peter saw me1 he came and    
saluted me1 and as ,i was returning his 
civility1 he took me aside1 and pointing
 to him with whom he had been           
discoursing1 he said1 8,do you see that 
man8 ,i was just thinking to  bring him 
to you40 ,i answered1 8,he should have  
been very welcome on  your account40    
8,and on his own too10 replied he1 8if  
you knew the man1  for there is none    
alive that can give so copious an       
account of unknown  nations and         
countries as he can do1 which ,i know   
you very much desire40  8,then10 said   
,i1 8,i did not guess amiss1 for at     
first sight ,i took him  for a seaman40 
8,but you are much mistaken10 said he1  
8for he has not  sailed as a seaman1 but
 as a traveller1 or rather a            
philosopher4 ,this  ,raphael1 who from  
his family carries the name of          
,hythloday1 is not  ignorant of the     
,latin tongue1 but is eminently learned 

in the ,greek1  having applied himself  
more particularly to that than to the   
former1  because he had given himself   
much to philosophy1 in which he knew    
that  the ,romans have left us nothing  
that is valuable1 except what is to be  
found in ,seneca and ,cicero4 ,he is a  
,portuguese by birth1 and was so        
desirous of seeing the world1 that he   
divided his estate among his  brothers1 
ran the same hazard as ,americus        
,vesputius1 and bore a share  in three  
of his four voyages that are now        
published2 only he did not  return with 
him in his last1 but obtained leave of  
him1 almost by  force1 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    
,castile4 ,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  country2 for he  
used often to say1 that the way to      
heaven was the same  from all places1   

and he that had no grave had the heavens
 still over  him4 ,yet this disposition 
of mind had cost him dear1 if ,god had  
not  been very gracious to him2 for     
after he1 with five ,castalians1 had    
travelled over many countries1 at last1 
by strange good fortune1 he got  to     
,ceylon1 and from thence to ,calicut1   
where he1 very happily1 found  some     
,portuguese ships2 and1 beyond all men's
 expectations1 returned to  his native  
country40 ,when ,peter had said this to 
me1 ,i thanked him for  his kindness in 
intending to give me the acquaintance of
 a man whose  conversation he knew would
 be so acceptable2 and upon that        
,raphael and  ,i embraced each other4   
,after those civilities were past which 
are usual  with strangers upon their    
first meeting1 we all went to my house1 
and  entering into the garden1 sat down 
on a green bank and entertained one     
another in discourse4 ,he told us that  
when ,vesputius had sailed away1  he1   
and his companions that stayed behind in

 ,new ,castile1 by degrees  insinuated  
themselves into the affections of the   
people of the country1  meeting often   
with them and treating them gently2 and 
at last they not  only lived among them 
without danger1 but conversed familiarly
 with  them1 and got so far into the    
heart of a prince1 whose name and       
country  ,i have forgot1 that he both   
furnished them plentifully with all     
things  necessary1 and also with the    
conveniences of travelling1 both boats  
when they went by water1 and waggons    
when they travelled over land3 he  sent 
with them a very faithful guide1 who was
 to introduce and  recommend them to    
such other princes as they had a mind to
 see3 and  after many days' journey1    
they came to towns1 and cities1 and to  
commonwealths1 that were both happily   
governed and well peopled4 ,under  the  
equator1 and as far on both sides of it 
as the sun moves1 there lay  vast       
deserts that were parched with the      
perpetual heat of the sun2 the  soil was

 withered1 all things looked dismally1  
and all places were  either quite       
uninhabited1 or abounded with wild      
beasts and serpents1  and some few men1 
that were neither less wild nor less    
cruel than the  beasts themselves4 ,but1
 as they went farther1 a new scene      
opened1 all  things grew milder1 the air
 less burning1 the soil more verdant1   
and  even the beasts were less wild3    
and1 at last1 there were nations1       
towns1 and cities1 that had not only    
mutual commerce among themselves  and   
with their neighbours1 but traded1 both 
by sea and land1 to very  remote        
countries4 ,there they found the        
conveniencies of seeing many  countries 
on all hands1 for no ship went any      
voyage into which he and  his companions
 were not very welcome4 ,the first      
vessels that they saw  were             
flat-bottomed1 their sails were made of 
reeds and wicker1 woven  close together1
 only some were of leather2 but1        
afterwards1 they found  ships made with 

round keels and canvas sails1 and in all
 respects like  our ships1 and the      
seamen understood both astronomy and    
navigation4 ,he  got wonderfully into   
their favour by showing them the use of 
the  needle1 of which till then they    
were utterly ignorant4 ,they sailed     
before with great caution1 and only in  
summer time2 but now they count  all    
seasons alike1 trusting wholly to the   
loadstone1 in which they are1  perhaps1 
more secure than safe2 so that there is 
reason to fear that  this discovery1    
which was thought would prove so much to
 their  advantage1 may1 by their        
imprudence1 become an occasion of much  
mischief to them4 ,but it were too long 
to dwell on all that he told us  he had 
observed in every place1 it would be too
 great a digression from  our present   
purpose3 whatever is necessary to be    
told concerning those  wise and prudent 
institutions which he observed among    
civilised  nations1 may perhaps be      
related by us on a more proper occasion4

 ,we  asked him many questions          
concerning all these things1 to which he
  answered very willingly2 we made no   
inquiries after monsters1 than  which   
nothing is more common2 for everywhere  
one may hear of ravenous  dogs and      
wolves1 and cruel men-eaters1 but it is 
not so easy to find  states that are    
well and wisely governed4    ,as he told
 us of many things that were amiss in   
those new-discovered  countries1 so he  
reckoned up not a few things1 from which
 patterns  might be taken for correcting
 the errors of these nations among whom 
we  live2 of which an account may be    
given1 as ,i have already promised1 at  
some other time2 for1 at present1 ,i    
intend only to relate those  particulars
 that he told us1 of the manners and    
laws of the ,utopians3  but ,i will     
begin with the occasion that led us to  
speak of that  commonwealth4 ,after     
,raphael had discoursed with great      
judgment on the  many errors that were  
both among us and these nations1 had    

treated of  the wise institutions both  
here and there1 and had spoken as       
distinctly  of the customs and          
government of every nation through which
 he had  past1 as if he had spent his   
whole life in it1 ,peter1 being struck  
with  admiration1 said1 8,i wonder1     
,raphael1 how it comes that you enter   
into  no king's service1 for ,i am sure 
there are none to whom you would not  be
 very acceptable2 for your learning and 
knowledge1 both of men and  things1 is  
such1 that you would not only entertain 
them very  pleasantly1 but be of great  
use to them1 by the examples you could  
set  before them1 and the advices you   
could give them2 and by this means you  
would both serve your own interest1 and 
be of great use to all your  friends40  
8,as for my friends10 answered he1 8,i  
need not be much  concerned1 having     
already done for them all that was      
incumbent on me2  for when ,i was not   
only in good health1 but fresh and      
young1 ,i  distributed that among my    

kindred and friends which other people  
do not  part with till they are old and 
sick3 when they then unwillingly give   
that which they can enjoy no longer     
themselves4 ,i think my friends  ought  
to rest contented with this1 and not to 
expect that for their  sakes ,i should  
enslave myself to any king whatsoever40 
8,soft and fair60  said ,peter2 8,i do  
not mean that you should be a slave to  
any king1 but  only that you should     
assist them and be useful to them40     
8,the change of  the word10 said he1    
8does not alter the matter40 8,but term 
it as you  will10 replied ,peter1 8,i do
 not see any other way in which you can 
be  so useful1 both in private to your  
friends and to the public1 and by  which
 you can make your own condition        
happier40 8,happier80 answered          
,raphael1 8is that to be compassed in a 
way so abhorrent to my genius8  ,now ,i 
live as ,i will1 to which ,i believe1   
few courtiers can pretend2  and there   
are so many that court the favour of    

great men1 that there  will be no great 
loss if they are not troubled either    
with me or with  others of my temper40  
,upon this1 said ,i1 8,i perceive1      
,raphael1 that you  neither desire      
wealth nor greatness2 and1 indeed1 ,i   
value and admire  such a man much more  
than ,i do any of the great men in the  
world4 ,yet ,i  think you would do what 
would well become so generous and       
philosophical  a soul as yours is1 if   
you would apply your time and thoughts  
to public  affairs1 even though you may 
happen to find it a little uneasy to    
yourself2 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    
actions1 which ,i know you would do if  
you were in such a  post2 for the       
springs both of good and evil flow from 
the prince over a  whole nation1 as from
 a lasting fountain4 ,so much learning  
as you have1  even without practice in  
affairs1 or so great a practice as you  

have  had1 without any other learning1  
would render you a very fit counsellor  
to any king whatsoever40 8,you are      
doubly mistaken10 said he1 8,mr4 ,more1 
both in your opinion of me and in the   
judgment you make of things3 for  as ,i 
have not that capacity that you fancy ,i
 have1 so if ,i had it1 the  public     
would not be one jot the better when ,i 
had sacrificed my quiet  to it4 ,for    
most princes apply themselves more to   
affairs of war than to  the useful arts 
of peace2 and in these ,i neither have  
any knowledge1  nor do ,i much desire   
it2 they are generally more set on      
acquiring new  kingdoms1 right or wrong1
 than on governing well those they      
possess3  and1 among the ministers of   
princes1 there are none that are not so 
wise as to need no assistance1 or at    
least1 that do not think  themselves so 
wise that they imagine they need none2  
and if they court  any1 it is only those
 for whom the prince has much personal  
favour1  whom by their fawning and      

flatteries they endeavour to fix to     
their own  interests2 and1 indeed1      
nature has so made us1 that we all love 
to be  flattered and to please ourselves
 with our own notions3 the old crow     
loves his young1 and the ape her cubs4  
,now if in such a court1 made up  of    
persons who envy all others and only    
admire themselves1 a person  should but 
propose anything that he had either read
 in history or  observed in his travels1
 the rest would think that the          
reputation of  their wisdom would sink1 
and that their interests would be much  
depressed if they could not run it down3
 and1 if all other things  failed1 then 
they would fly to this1 that such or    
such things pleased  our ancestors1 and 
it were well for us if we could but     
match them4 ,they  would set up their   
rest on such an answer1 as a sufficient 
confutation  of all that could be said1 
as if it were a great misfortune that   
any  should be found wiser than his     
ancestors4 ,but though they willingly   

let  go all the good things that were   
among those of former ages1 yet1 if     
better things are proposed1 they cover  
themselves obstinately with this  excuse
 of reverence to past times4 ,i have met
 with these proud1 morose1  and absurd  
judgments of things in many places1     
particularly once in  ,england40 8,were 
you ever there80 said ,i4 8,yes1 ,i     
was10 answered he1  8and stayed some    
months there1 not long after the        
rebellion in the ,west  was suppressed1 
with a great slaughter of the poor      
people that were  engaged in it4    8,i 
was then much obliged to that reverend  
prelate1 ,john ,morton1  ,archbishop of 
,canterbury1 ,cardinal1 and ,chancellor 
of ,england2 a man10  said he1 8,peter  
7for ,mr4 ,more knows well what he was71
 that was not  less venerable for his   
wisdom and virtues than for the high    
character  he bore3 he was of a middle  
stature1 not broken with age2 his looks 
begot reverence rather than fear2 his   
conversation was easy1 but  serious and 

grave2 he sometimes took pleasure to try
 the force of those  that came as       
suitors to him upon business by speaking
 sharply1 though  decently1 to them1 and
 by that he discovered their spirit and 
presence  of mind2 with which he was    
much delighted when it did not grow up  
to  impudence1 as bearing a great       
resemblance to his own temper1 and he   
looked on such persons as the fittest   
men for affairs4 ,he spoke both         
gracefully and weightily2 he was        
eminently skilled in the law1 had a     
vast understanding1 and a prodigious    
memory2 and those excellent  talents    
with which nature had furnished him were
 improved by study and  experience4     
,when ,i was in ,england the ,king      
depended much on his  counsels1 and the 
,government seemed to be chiefly        
supported by him2 for  from his youth he
 had been all along practised in        
affairs2 and1 having  passed through    
many traverses of fortune1 he had1 with 
great cost1  acquired a vast stock of   

wisdom1 which is not soon lost when it  
is  purchased so dear4 ,one day1 when ,i
 was dining with him1 there happened  to
 be at table one of the ,english        
lawyers1 who took occasion to run out   
in a high commendation of the severe    
execution of justice upon thieves1      
#8who1' as he said1 #8were then hanged  
so fast that there were sometimes       
twenty on one gibbet6' and1 upon that1  
he said1 #8he could not wonder  enough  
how it came to pass that1 since so few  
escaped1 there were yet  so many thieves
 left1 who were still robbing in all    
places4' ,upon this1  ,i 7who took the  
boldness to speak freely before the     
,cardinal7 said1  #8,there was no reason
 to wonder at the matter1 since this way
 of  punishing thieves was neither just 
in itself nor good for the public2  for1
 as the severity was too great1 so the  
remedy was not effectual2  simple theft 
not being so great a crime that it ought
 to cost a man his  life2 no punishment1
 how severe soever1 being able to       

restrain those  from robbing who can    
find out no other way of livelihood4 ,in
 this1'  said ,i1 #8not only you in     
,england1 but a great part of the world1
  imitate some ill masters1 that are    
readier to chastise their scholars  than
 to teach them4 ,there are dreadful     
punishments enacted against  thieves1   
but it were much better to make such    
good provisions by which  every man     
might be put in a method how to live1   
and so be preserved  from the fatal     
necessity of stealing and of dying for  
it4' #8,there has  been care enough     
taken for that1' said he2 #8there are   
many handicrafts1  and there is         
husbandry1 by which they may make a     
shift to live1 unless  they have a      
greater mind to follow ill courses4'    
#8,that will not serve  your turn1' said
 ,i1 #8for many lose their limbs in     
civil or foreign  wars1 as lately in the
 ,cornish rebellion1 and some time ago  
in your  wars with ,france1 who1 being  
thus mutilated in the service of their  

king and country1 can no more follow    
their old trades1 and are too old  to   
learn new ones2 but since wars are only 
accidental things1 and have  intervals1 
let us consider those things that fall  
out every day4 ,there  is a great number
 of noblemen among you that are         
themselves as idle as  drones1 that     
subsist on other men's labour1 on the   
labour of their  tenants1 whom1 to raise
 their revenues1 they pare to the quick4
 ,this1  indeed1 is the only instance of
 their frugality1 for in all other      
things they are prodigal1 even to the   
beggaring of themselves2 but1  besides  
this1 they carry about with them a great
 number of idle  fellows1 who never     
learned any art by which they may gain  
their living2  and these1 as soon as    
either their lord dies1 or they         
themselves fall  sick1 are turned out of
 doors2 for your lords are readier to   
feed idle  people than to take care of  
the sick2 and often the heir is not able
 to  keep together so great a family as 

his predecessor did4 ,now1 when the     
stomachs of those that are thus turned  
out of doors grow keen1 they rob  no    
less keenly2 and what else can they do8 
,for when1 by wandering  about1 they    
have worn out both their health and     
their clothes1 and are  tattered1 and   
look ghastly1 men of quality will not   
entertain them1 and  poor men dare not  
do it1 knowing that one who has been    
bred up in  idleness and pleasure1 and  
who was used to walk about with his     
sword  and buckler1 despising all the   
neighbourhood with an insolent scorn as 
far below him1 is not fit for the spade 
and mattock2 nor will he serve  a poor  
man for so small a hire and in so low a 
diet as he can afford to  give him4' ,to
 this he answered1 #8,this sort of men  
ought to be  particularly cherished1 for
 in them consists the force of the      
armies  for which we have occasion2     
since their birth inspires them with a  
nobler sense of honour than is to be    
found among tradesmen or  ploughmen4'   

#8,you may as well say1' replied ,i1    
#8that you must cherish  thieves on the 
account of wars1 for you will never want
 the one as long  as you have the other2
 and as robbers prove sometimes gallant 
soldiers1  so soldiers often prove brave
 robbers1 so near an alliance there is  
between those two sorts of life4 ,but   
this bad custom1 so common among  you1  
of keeping many servants1 is not        
peculiar to this nation4 ,in  ,france   
there is yet a more pestiferous sort of 
people1 for the whole  country is full  
of soldiers1 still kept up in time of   
peace 7if such a  state of a nation can 
be called a peace72 and these are kept  
in pay  upon the same account that you  
plead for those idle retainers about    
noblemen3 this being a maxim of those   
pretended statesmen1 that it is         
necessary for the public safety to have 
a good body of veteran soldiers  ever in
 readiness4 ,they think raw men are not 
to be depended on1 and  they sometimes  
seek occasions for making war1 that they

 may train up  their soldiers in the art
 of cutting throats1 or1 as ,sallust    
observed1  8for keeping their hands in  
use1 that they may not grow dull by too 
long an intermission40 ,but ,france has 
learned to its cost how dangerous  it is
 to feed such beasts4 ,the fate of the  
,romans1 ,carthaginians1 and  ,syrians1 
and many other nations and cities1 which
 were both overturned  and quite ruined 
by those standing armies1 should make   
others wiser2  and the folly of this    
maxim of the ,french appears plainly    
even from  this1 that their trained     
soldiers often find your raw men prove  
too  hard for them1 of which ,i will not
 say much1 lest you may think ,i        
flatter the ,english4 ,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 gentlemen1 if they are not disabled
 by some misfortune in  their body or   
dispirited by extreme want2 so that you 
need not fear  that those well-shaped   

and strong men 7for it is only such that
  noblemen love to keep about them till 
they spoil them71 who now grow  feeble  
with ease and are softened with their   
effeminate manner of life1  would be    
less fit for action if they were well   
bred and well employed4  ,and it seems  
very unreasonable that1 for the prospect
 of a war1 which  you need never have   
but when you please1 you should maintain
 so many  idle men1 as will always      
disturb you in time of peace1 which is  
ever to  be more considered than war4   
,but ,i do not think that this necessity
 of  stealing arises only from hence2   
there is another cause of it1 more      
peculiar to ,england4' #8,what is that8'
 said the ,cardinal3 #8,the increase  of
 pasture1' said ,i1 #8by which your     
sheep1 which are naturally mild1  and   
easily kept in order1 may be said now to
 devour men and unpeople1  not only     
villages1 but towns2 for wherever it is 
found that the sheep  of any soil yield 
a softer and richer wool than ordinary1 

there the  nobility and gentry1 and even
 those holy men1 the abbots6 not        
contented  with the old rents which     
their farms yielded1 nor thinking it    
enough  that they1 living at their ease1
 do no good to the public1 resolve to   
do it hurt instead of good4 ,they stop  
the course of agriculture1  destroying  
houses and towns1 reserving only the    
churches1 and enclose  grounds that they
 may lodge their sheep in them4 ,as if  
forests and  parks had swallowed up too 
little of the land1 those worthy        
countrymen  turn the best inhabited     
places into solitudes2 for when an      
insatiable  wretch1 who is a plague to  
his country1 resolves to enclose many   
thousand acres of ground1 the owners1 as
 well as tenants1 are turned  out of    
their possessions by trick or by main   
force1 or1 being wearied  out by ill    
usage1 they are forced to sell them2 by 
which means those  miserable people1    
both men and women1 married and         
unmarried1 old and  young1 with their   

poor but numerous families 7since       
country business  requires many hands71 
are all forced to change their seats1   
not knowing  whither to go2 and they    
must sell1 almost for nothing1 their    
household  stuff1 which could not bring 
them much money1 even though they might 
stay for a buyer4 ,when that little     
money is at an end 7for it will be  soon
 spent71 what is left for them to do but
 either to steal1 and so to  be hanged  
7,god knows how justly671 or to go about
 and beg8 and if they  do this they are 
put in prison as idle vagabonds1 while  
they would  willingly work but can find 
none that will hire them2 for there is  
no  more occasion for country labour1 to
 which they have been bred1 when  there 
is no arable ground left4 ,one shepherd 
can look after a flock1  which will     
stock an extent of ground that would    
require many hands if  it were to be    
ploughed and reaped4 ,this1 likewise1 in
 many places  raises the price of corn4 
,the price of wool is also so risen that

 the  poor people1 who were wont to make
 cloth1 are no more able to buy it2  and
 this1 likewise1 makes many of them     
idle3 for since the increase of  pasture
 ,god has punished the avarice of the   
owners by a rot among the  sheep1 which 
has destroyed vast numbers of them--to  
us it might have  seemed more just had  
it fell on the owners themselves4 ,but1 
suppose the  sheep should increase ever 
so much1 their price is not likely to   
fall2  since1 though they cannot be     
called a monopoly1 because they are not 
engrossed by one person1 yet they are in
 so few hands1 and these are so  rich1  
that1 as they are not pressed to sell   
them sooner than they have  a mind to   
it1 so they never do it till they have  
raised the price as  high as possible4  
,and on the same account it is that the 
other kinds of  cattle are so dear1     
because many villages being pulled down1
 and all  country labour being much     
neglected1 there are none who make it   
their  business to breed them4 ,the rich

 do not breed cattle as they do sheep1  
but buy them lean and at low prices2    
and1 after they have fattened them  on  
their grounds1 sell them again at high  
rates4 ,and ,i do not think  that all   
the inconveniences this will produce are
 yet observed2 for1 as  they sell the   
cattle dear1 so1 if they are consumed   
faster than the  breeding countries from
 which they are brought can afford them1
 then  the stock must decrease1 and this
 must needs end in great scarcity2 and  
by these means1 this your island1 which 
seemed as to this particular  the       
happiest in the world1 will suffer much 
by the cursed avarice of a  few persons3
 besides this1 the rising of corn makes 
all people lessen  their families as    
much as they can2 and what can those who
 are  dismissed by them do but either   
beg or rob8 ,and to this last a man of a
  great mind is much sooner drawn than  
to the former4 ,luxury likewise  breaks 
in apace upon you to set forward your   
poverty and misery2 there  is an        

excessive vanity in apparel1 and great  
cost in diet1 and that not  only in     
noblemen's families1 but even among     
tradesmen1 among the  farmers           
themselves1 and among all ranks of      
persons4 ,you have also many  infamous  
houses1 and1 besides those that are     
known1 the taverns and  ale-houses are  
no better2 add to these dice1 cards1    
tables1 football1  tennis1 and quoits1  
in which money runs fast away2 and those
 that are  initiated into them must1 in 
the conclusion1 betake themselves to    
robbing for a supply4 ,banish these     
plagues1 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 it2  restrain those engrossings
 of the rich1 that are as bad almost as 
monopolies2 leave fewer occasions to    
idleness2 let agriculture be set  up    
again1 and the manufacture of the wool  
be regulated1 that so there  may be work
 found for those companies of idle      

people whom want forces  to be thieves1 
or who now1 being idle vagabonds or     
useless servants1  will certainly grow  
thieves at last4 ,if you do not find a  
remedy to  these evils it is a vain     
thing to boast of your severity in      
punishing  theft1 which1 though it may  
have the appearance of justice1 yet in  
itself is neither just nor convenient2  
for if you suffer your people to  be    
ill-educated1 and their manners to be   
corrupted from their infancy1  and then 
punish them for those crimes to which   
their first education  disposed them1   
what else is to be concluded from this  
but that you  first make thieves and    
then punish them8'    8,while ,i was    
talking thus1 the ,counsellor1 who was  
present1 had  prepared an answer1 and   
had resolved to resume all ,i had said1 
according to the formality of a debate1 
in which things are generally  repeated 
more faithfully than they are answered1 
as if the chief trial  to be made were  
of men's memories4 #8,you have talked   

prettily1 for a  stranger1' said he1    
#8having heard of many things among us  
which you  have not been able to        
consider well2 but ,i will make the     
whole matter  plain to you1 and will    
first repeat in order all that you have 
said2  then ,i will show how much your  
ignorance of our affairs has misled you2
  and will1 in the last place1 answer   
all your arguments4 ,and1 that ,i may   
begin where ,i promised1 there were four
 things--' #8,hold your peace6'  said   
the ,cardinal2 #8this will take up too  
much time2 therefore we will1  at       
present1 ease you of the trouble of     
answering1 and reserve it to our  next  
meeting1 which shall be to-morrow1 if   
,raphael's affairs and yours  can admit 
of it4 ,but1 ,raphael1' said he to me1  
#8,i would gladly know  upon what reason
 it is that you think theft ought not to
 be punished by  death3 would you give  
way to it8 or do you propose any other  
punishment  that will be more useful to 
the public8 for1 since death does not   

restrain theft1 if men thought their    
lives would be safe1 what fear or  force
 could restrain ill men8 ,on the        
contrary1 they would look on the        
mitigation of the punishment as an      
invitation to commit more crimes4' ,i   
answered1 #8,it seems to me a very      
unjust thing to take away a man's life  
for a little money1 for nothing in the  
world can be of equal value with  a     
man's life3 and if it be said1 8that it 
is not for the money that one  suffers1 
but for his breaking the law10 ,i must  
say1 extreme justice is  an extreme     
injury3 for we ought not to approve of  
those terrible laws  that make the      
smallest offences capital1 nor of that  
opinion of the  ,stoics that makes all  
crimes equal2 as if there were no       
difference to  be made between the      
killing a man and the taking his purse1 
between  which1 if we examine things    
impartially1 there is no likeness nor   
proportion4 ,god has commanded us not to
 kill1 and shall we kill so  easily for 

a little money8 ,but if one shall say1  
that by that law we  are only forbid to 
kill any except when the laws of the    
land allow of  it1 upon the same        
grounds1 laws may be made1 in some      
cases1 to allow of  adultery and        
perjury3 for ,god having taken from us  
the right of  disposing either of our   
own or of other people's lives1 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 example1 that it  frees    
people from the obligation of the divine
 law1 and so makes murder  a lawful     
action1 what is this1 but to give a     
preference to human laws  before the    
divine8 and1 if this is once admitted1  
by the same rule men  may1 in all other 
things1 put what restrictions they      
please upon the  laws of ,god4 ,if1 by  
the ,mosaical law1 though it was rough  
and severe1  as being a yoke laid on an 
obstinate and servile nation1 men were  
only  fined1 and not put to death for   

theft1 we cannot imagine1 that in this  
new law of mercy1 in which ,god treats  
us with the tenderness of a  father1 ,he
 has given us a greater licence to      
cruelty than ,he did to the  ,jews4     
,upon these reasons it is1 that ,i think
 putting thieves to death  is not       
lawful2 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 punished2   
for if a robber sees that his danger is 
the same if  he is convicted of theft as
 if he were guilty of murder1 this will 
naturally incite him to kill the person 
whom otherwise he would only  have      
robbed2 since1 if the punishment is the 
same1 there is more  security1 and less 
danger of discovery1 when he that can   
best make it  is put out of the way2 so 
that terrifying thieves too much        
provokes  them to cruelty4    8,but as  
to the question1 #8,what more convenient
 way of punishment can be  found8' ,i   
think it much easier to find out that   

than to invent anything  that is worse2 
why should we doubt but the way that was
 so long in use  among the old ,romans1 
who understood so well the arts of      
government1  was very proper for their  
punishment8 ,they condemned such as they
 found  guilty of great crimes to work  
their whole lives in quarries1 or to dig
  in mines with chains about them4 ,but 
the method that ,i liked best was  that 
which ,i observed in my travels in      
,persia1 among the ,polylerits1  who are
 a considerable and well-governed       
people3 they pay a yearly  tribute to   
the ,king of ,persia1 but in all other  
respects they are a  free nation1 and   
governed by their own laws3 they lie far
 from the sea1  and are environed with  
hills2 and1 being contented with the    
productions  of their own country1 which
 is very fruitful1 they have little     
commerce  with any other nation2 and as 
they1 according to the genius of their  
country1 have no inclination to enlarge 
their borders1 so their  mountains and  

the pension they pay to the ,persian1   
secure them from all  invasions4 ,thus  
they have no wars among them2 they live 
rather  conveniently than with          
splendour1 and may be rather called a   
happy  nation than either eminent or    
famous2 for ,i do not think that they   
are  known1 so much as by name1 to any  
but their next neighbours4 ,those that  
are found guilty of theft among them are
 bound to make restitution to  the      
owner1 and not1 as it is in other       
places1 to the prince1 for they  reckon 
that the prince has no more right to the
 stolen goods than the  thief2 but if   
that which was stolen is no more in     
being1 then the goods  of the thieves   
are estimated1 and restitution being    
made out of them1  the remainder is     
given to their wives and children2 and  
they themselves  are condemned to serve 
in the public works1 but are neither    
imprisoned  nor chained1 unless there   
happens to be some extraordinary        
circumstance  in their crimes4 ,they go 

about loose and free1 working for the   
public3  if they are idle or backward to
 work they are whipped1 but if they work
  hard they are well used and treated   
without any mark of reproach2 only  the 
lists of them are called always at      
night1 and then they are shut  up4 ,they
 suffer no other uneasiness but this of 
constant labour2 for1  as they work for 
the public1 so they are well entertained
 out of the  public stock1 which is done
 differently in different places3 in    
some  places whatever is bestowed on    
them is raised by a charitable          
contribution2 and1 though this way may  
seem uncertain1 yet so merciful  are the
 inclinations of that people1 that they 
are plentifully supplied  by it2 but in 
other places public revenues are set    
aside for them1 or  there is a constant 
tax or poll-money raised for their      
maintenance4 ,in  some places they are  
set to no public work1 but every private
 man that  has occasion to hire workmen 
goes to the market-places and hires them

  of the public1 a little lower than he 
would do a freeman4 ,if they go  lazily 
about their task he may quicken them    
with the whip4 ,by this  means there is 
always some piece of work or other to be
 done by them2  and1 besides their      
livelihood1 they earn somewhat still to 
the public4  ,they all wear a peculiar  
habit1 of one certain colour1 and their 
hair  is cropped a little above their   
ears1 and a piece of one of their ears  
is cut off4 ,their friends are allowed  
to give them either meat1 drink1  or    
clothes1 so they are of their proper    
colour2 but it is death1 both  to the   
giver and taker1 if they give them      
money2 nor is it less penal  for any    
freeman to take money from them upon any
 account whatsoever3  and it is also    
death for any of these slaves 7so they  
are called7 to  handle arms4 ,those of  
every division of the country are       
distinguished  by a peculiar mark1 which
 it is capital for them to lay aside1 to
 go  out of their bounds1 or to talk    

with a slave of another jurisdiction1   
and the very attempt of an escape is no 
less penal than an escape  itself4 ,it  
is death for any other slave to be      
accessory to it2 and if a  freeman      
engages in it he is condemned to        
slavery4 ,those that discover  it are   
rewarded--if freemen1 in money2 and if  
slaves1 with liberty1  together with a  
pardon for being accessory to it2 that  
so they might  find their account rather
 in repenting of their engaging in such 
a  design than in persisting in it4     
8,these are their laws and rules in     
relation to robbery1 and it is  obvious 
that they are as advantageous as they   
are mild and gentle2  since vice is not 
only destroyed and men preserved1 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 society4 ,nor 
is there any hazard of  their falling   
back to their old customs2 and so little

 do travellers  apprehend mischief from 
them that they generally make use of    
them for  guides from one jurisdiction  
to another2 for there is nothing left   
them  by which they can rob or be the   
better for it1 since1 as they are       
disarmed1 so the very having of money is
 a sufficient conviction3 and  as they  
are certainly punished if discovered1 so
 they cannot hope to  escape2 for their 
habit being in all the parts of it      
different from  what is commonly worn1  
they cannot fly away1 unless they would 
go  naked1 and even then their cropped  
ear would betray them4 ,the only  danger
 to be feared from them is their        
conspiring against the  government2 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             
jurisdictions1 which cannot be done1    
since they  cannot meet or talk         
together2 nor will any venture on a     
design where  the concealment would be  

so dangerous and the discovery so       
profitable4  ,none are quite hopeless of
 recovering their freedom1 since by     
their  obedience and patience1 and by   
giving good grounds to believe that they
  will change their manner of life for  
the future1 they may expect at  last to 
obtain their liberty1 and some are every
 year restored to it  upon the good     
character that is given of them4 ,when  
,i had related all  this1 ,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 much4 ,to this he          
answered1 #8,that it could never take   
place in ,england without  endangering  
the whole nation4' ,as he said this he  
shook his head1 made  some grimaces1 and
 held his peace1 while all the company  
seemed of his  opinion1 except the      
,cardinal1 who said1 #8,that it was not 
easy to form a  judgment of its success1
 since it was a method that never yet   

had been  tried2 but if1' said he1      
#8when sentence of death were passed    
upon a  thief1 the prince would reprieve
 him for a while1 and make the          
experiment upon him1 denying him the    
privilege of a sanctuary2 and  then1 if 
it had a good effect upon him1 it might 
take place2 and1 if it  did not succeed1
 the worst would be to execute the      
sentence on the  condemned persons at   
last2 and ,i do not see1' added he1     
#8why it would  be either unjust1       
inconvenient1 or at all dangerous to    
admit of such a  delay2 in my opinion   
the vagabonds ought to be treated in the
 same  manner1 against whom1 though we  
have made many laws1 yet we have not    
been able to gain our end4' ,when the   
,cardinal had done1 they all  commended 
the motion1 though they had despised it 
when it came from me1  but more         
particularly commended what related to  
the vagabonds1 because  it was his own  
observation4    8,i do not know whether 
it be worth while to tell what followed1

 for it  was very ridiculous2 but ,i    
shall venture at it1 for as it is not   
foreign to this matter1 so some good use
 may be made of it4 ,there was a        
,jester standing by1 that counterfeited 
the fool so naturally that he  seemed to
 be really one2 the jests which he      
offered were so cold and  dull that we  
laughed more at him than at them1 yet   
sometimes he said1  as it were by       
chance1 things that were not unpleasant1
 so as to justify  the old proverb1     
#8,that he who throws the dice often1   
will sometimes  have a lucky hit4' ,when
 one of the company had said that ,i had
 taken  care of the thieves1 and the    
,cardinal had taken care of the         
vagabonds1  so that there remained      
nothing but that some public provision  
might be  made for the poor whom        
sickness or old age had disabled from   
labour1  #8,leave that to me1' said the 
,fool1 #8and ,i shall take care of them1
 for  there is no sort of people whose  
sight ,i abhor more1 having been so     

often vexed with them and with their sad
 complaints2 but as dolefully  soever as
 they have told their tale1 they could  
never prevail so far as  to draw one    
penny from me2 for either ,i had no mind
 to give them  anything1 or1 when ,i had
 a mind to do it1 ,i had nothing to give
 them2  and they now know me so well    
that they will not lose their labour1   
but  let me pass without giving me any  
trouble1 because they hope for          
nothing--no more1 in faith1 than if ,i  
were a priest2 but ,i would have a  law 
made for sending all these beggars to   
monasteries1 the men to the             
,benedictines1 to be made lay-brothers1 
and the women to be nuns4' ,the         
,cardinal smiled1 and approved of it in 
jest1 but the rest liked it in  earnest4
 ,there was a divine present1 who1      
though he was a grave morose  man1 yet  
he was so pleased with this reflection  
that was made on the  priests and the   
monks that he began to play with the    
,fool1 and said to  him1 #8,this will   

not deliver you from all beggars1 except
 you take care  of us ,friars4' #8,that 
is done already1' answered the ,fool1   
#8for the  ,cardinal has provided for   
you by what he proposed for restraining 
vagabonds and setting them to work1 for 
,i know no vagabonds like you4'  ,this  
was well entertained by the whole       
company1 who1 looking at the  ,cardinal1
 perceived that he was not ill-pleased  
at it2 only the ,friar  himself was     
vexed1 as may be easily imagined1 and   
fell into such a  passion that he could 
not forbear railing at the ,fool1 and   
calling him  knave1 slanderer1          
backbiter1 and son of perdition1 and    
then cited some  dreadful threatenings  
out of the ,scriptures against him4 ,now
 the ,jester  thought he was in his     
element1 and laid about him freely4     
#8,good ,friar1'  said he1 #8be not     
angry1 for it is written1 8,in patience 
possess your  soul40' ,the ,friar       
answered 7for ,i shall give you his own 
words71 #8,i am  not angry1 you hangman2

 at least1 ,i do not sin in it1 for the 
,psalmist  says1 8,be ye angry and sin  
not40' ,upon this the ,cardinal         
admonished him  gently1 and wished him  
to govern his passions4 #8,no1 my lord1'
 said he1  #8,i speak not but from a    
good zeal1 which ,i ought to have1 for  
holy men  have had a good zeal1 as it is
 said1 8,the zeal of thy house hath     
eaten  me up20 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 zeal1 which that  mocker1
 that rogue1 that scoundrel1 will       
perhaps feel4' #8,you do this1  perhaps1
 with a good intention1' said the       
,cardinal1 #8but1 in my  opinion1 it    
were wiser in you1 and perhaps better   
for you1 not to  engage in so ridiculous
 a contest with a ,fool4' #8,no1 my     
lord1' answered  he1 #8that were not    
wisely done1 for ,solomon1 the wisest of
 men1 said1  8,answer a ,fool according 
to his folly10 which ,i now do1 and show
 him  the ditch into which he will fall1

 if he is not aware of it2 for if the   
many mockers of ,elisha1 who was but one
 bald man1 felt the effect of  his zeal1
 what will become of the mocker of so   
many ,friars1 among whom  there are so  
many bald men8 ,we have1 likewise1 a    
bull1 by which all  that jeer us are    
excommunicated4' ,when the ,cardinal saw
 that there was  no end of this matter  
he made a sign to the ,fool to withdraw1
 turned  the discourse another way1 and 
soon after rose from the table1 and1    
dismissing us1 went to hear causes4     
8,thus1 ,mr4 ,more1 ,i have run out into
 a tedious story1 of the length of      
which ,i had been ashamed1 if 7as you   
earnestly begged it of me7 ,i had  not  
observed you to hearken to it as if you 
had no mind to lose any  part of it4 ,i 
might have contracted it1 but ,i        
resolved to give it you  at large1 that 
you might observe how those that        
despised what ,i had  proposed1 no      
sooner perceived that the ,cardinal did 
not dislike it but  presently approved  

of it1 fawned so on him and flattered   
him to such a  degree1 that they in good
 earnest applauded those things that he 
only  liked in jest2 and from hence you 
may gather how little courtiers would   
value either me or my counsels40    ,to 
this ,i answered1 8,you have done me a  
great kindness in this  relation2 for as
 everything has been related by you both
 wisely and  pleasantly1 so you have    
made me imagine that ,i was in my own   
country  and grown young again1 by      
recalling that good ,cardinal to my     
thoughts1  in whose family ,i was bred  
from my childhood2 and though you are1  
upon  other accounts1 very dear to me1  
yet you are the dearer because you      
honour his memory so much2 but1 after   
all this1 ,i cannot change my  opinion1 
for ,i still think that if you could    
overcome that aversion  which you have  
to the courts of princes1 you might1 by 
the advice which  it is in your power to
 give1 do a great deal of good to       
mankind1 and  this is the chief design  

that every good man ought to propose to 
himself in living2 for your friend      
,plato thinks that nations will be      
happy when either philosophers become   
kings or kings become  philosophers4 ,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 counsels40 8,they are not so    
base-minded10 said he1 8but that they   
would willingly do it2 many of them have
 already done it by their  books1 if    
those that are in power would but       
hearken to their good  advice4 ,but     
,plato judged right1 that except kings  
themselves became  philosophers1 they   
who from their childhood are corrupted  
with false  notions would never fall in 
entirely with the counsels of           
philosophers1  and this he himself found
 to be true in the person of ,dionysius4
    8,do not you think that if ,i were  
about any king1 proposing good laws to  
him1 and endeavouring to root out all   
the cursed seeds of evil that ,i  found 

in him1 ,i should either be turned out  
of his court1 or1 at least1  be laughed 
at for my pains8 ,for instance1 what    
could ,i signify if ,i  were about the  
,king of ,france1 and were called into  
his cabinet  council1 where several wise
 men1 in his hearing1 were proposing    
many  expedients2 as1 by what arts and  
practices ,milan may be kept1 and       
,naples1 that has so often slipped out  
of their hands1 recovered2 how  the     
,venetians1 and after them the rest of  
,italy1 may be subdued2 and  then how   
,flanders1 ,brabant1 and all ,burgundy1 
and some other kingdoms  which he has   
swallowed already in his designs1 may be
 added to his  empire8 ,one proposes a  
league with the ,venetians1 to be kept  
as long as  he finds his account in it1 
and that he ought to communicate        
counsels  with them1 and give them some 
share of the spoil till his success     
makes  him need or fear them less1 and  
then it will be easily taken out of     
their hands2 another proposes the hiring

 the ,germans and the securing  the     
,switzers by pensions2 another proposes 
the gaining the ,emperor by  money1     
which is omnipotent with him2 another   
proposes a peace with the  ,king of     
,arragon1 and1 in order to cement it1   
the yielding up the ,king  of ,navarre's
 pretensions2 another thinks that the   
,prince of ,castile is  to be wrought on
 by the hope of an alliance1 and that   
some of his  courtiers are to be gained 
to the ,french faction by pensions4 ,the
  hardest point of all is1 what to do   
with ,england2 a treaty of peace is  to 
be set on foot1 and1 if their alliance  
is not to be depended on1 yet  it is to 
be made as firm as possible1 and they   
are to be called  friends1 but suspected
 as enemies3 therefore the ,scots are to
 be kept  in readiness to be let loose  
upon ,england on every occasion2 and    
some  banished nobleman is to be        
supported underhand 7for by the ,league 
it  cannot be done avowedly7 who has a  
pretension to the crown1 by which  means

 that suspected prince may be kept in   
awe4 ,now when things are in  so great a
 fermentation1 and so many gallant men  
are joining counsels  how to carry on   
the war1 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 home1  since the kingdom of     
,france was indeed greater than could be
 well  governed by one man2 that        
therefore he ought not to think of      
adding  others to it2 and if1 after     
this1 ,i should propose to them the     
resolutions of the ,achorians1 a people 
that lie on the south-east of  ,utopia1 
who long ago engaged in war in order to 
add to the dominions of  their prince   
another kingdom1 to which he had some   
pretensions by an  ancient alliance3    
this they conquered1 but found that the 
trouble of  keeping it was equal to that
 by which it was gained2 that the       
conquered  people were always either in 
rebellion or exposed to foreign         
invasions1  while they were obliged to  

be incessantly at war1 either for or    
against  them1 and consequently could   
never disband their army2 that in the   
meantime they were oppressed with taxes1
 their money went out of the  kingdom1  
their blood was spilt for the glory of  
their king without  procuring the least 
advantage to the people1 who received   
not the  smallest benefit from it even  
in time of peace2 and that1 their       
manners  being corrupted by a long war1 
robbery and murders everywhere abounded1
  and their laws fell into contempt2    
while their king1 distracted with  the  
care of two kingdoms1 was the less able 
to apply his mind to the  interest of   
either4 ,when they saw this1 and that   
there would be no end  to these evils1  
they by joint counsels made an humble   
address to their  king1 desiring him to 
choose which of the two kingdoms he had 
the  greatest mind to keep1 since he    
could not hold both2 for they were too  
great a people to be governed by a      
divided king1 since no man would        

willingly have a groom that should be in
 common between him and  another4 ,upon 
which the good prince was forced to quit
 his new kingdom  to one of his friends 
7who was not long after dethroned71 and 
to be  contented with his old one4 ,to  
this ,i would add that after all those  
warlike attempts1 the vast confusions1  
and the consumption both of  treasure   
and of people that must follow them1    
perhaps upon some  misfortune they might
 be forced to throw up all at last2     
therefore it  seemed much more eligible 
that the king should improve his ancient
  kingdom all he could1 and make it     
flourish as much as possible2 that he   
should love his people1 and be beloved  
of them2 that he should live  among     
them1 govern them gently and let other  
kingdoms alone1 since that  which had   
fallen to his share was big enough1 if  
not too big1 for  him3--pray1 how do you
 think would such a speech as this be   
heard80    8,i confess10 said ,i1 8,i   
think not very well40    8,but what10   

said he1 8if ,i should sort with another
 kind of ministers1  whose chief        
contrivances and consultations were by  
what art the  prince's treasures might  
be increased8 where one proposes raising
 the  value of specie when the king's   
debts are large1 and lowering it when   
his revenues were to come in1 that so he
 might both pay much with a  little1 and
 in a little receive a great deal4      
,another proposes a  pretence of a war1 
that money might be raised in order to  
carry it on1  and that a peace be       
concluded as soon as that was done2 and 
this with  such appearances of religion 
as might work on the people1 and make   
them  impute it to the piety of their   
prince1 and to his tenderness for the   
lives of his subjects4 ,a third offers  
some old musty laws that have  been     
antiquated by a long disuse 7and which1 
as they had been forgotten  by all the  
subjects1 so they had also been broken  
by them71 and  proposes the levying the 
penalties of these laws1 that1 as it    

would  bring in a vast treasure1 so     
there might be a very good pretence for 
it1 since it would look like the        
executing a law and the doing of        
justice4 ,a fourth proposes the         
prohibiting of many things under severe 
penalties1 especially such as were      
against the interest of the people1  and
 then the dispensing with these         
prohibitions1 upon great  compositions1 
to those who might find their advantage 
in breaking them4  ,this would serve two
 ends1 both of them acceptable to many2 
for as  those whose avarice led them to 
transgress would be severely fined1 so  
the selling licences dear would look as 
if a prince were tender of his  people1 
and would not easily1 or at low rates1  
dispense with anything  that might be   
against the public good4 ,another       
proposes that the judges  must be made  
sure1 that they may declare always in   
favour of the  prerogative2 that they   
must be often sent for to court1 that   
the king  may hear them argue those     

points in which he is concerned2 since1 
how  unjust soever any of his           
pretensions may be1 yet still some one  
or  other of them1 either out of        
contradiction to others1 or the pride of
  singularity1 or to make their court1  
would find out some pretence or  other  
to give the king a fair colour to carry 
the point4 ,for if the  judges but      
differ in opinion1 the clearest thing in
 the world is made  by that means       
disputable1 and truth being once brought
 in question1 the  king may then take   
advantage to expound the law for his own
 profit2  while the judges that stand   
out will be brought over1 either through
  fear or modesty2 and they being thus  
gained1 all of them may be sent to  the 
,bench to give sentence boldly as the   
king would have it2 for fair  pretences 
will never be wanting when sentence is  
to be given in the  prince's favour4 ,it
 will either be said that equity lies of
 his side1  or some words in the law    
will be found sounding that way1 or some

  forced sense will be put on them2 and1
 when all other things fail1 the  king's
 undoubted prerogative will be          
pretended1 as that which is above  all  
law1 and to which a religious judge     
ought to have a special regard4  ,thus  
all consent to that maxim of ,crassus1  
that a prince cannot have  treasure     
enough1 since he must maintain his      
armies out of it2 that a  king1 even    
though he would1 can do nothing         
unjustly2 that all property  is in him1 
not excepting the very persons of his   
subjects2 and that no  man has any other
 property but that which the king1 out  
of his  goodness1 thinks fit to leave   
him4 ,and they think it is the prince's 
interest that there be as little of this
 left as may be1 as if it were  his     
advantage that his people should have   
neither riches nor liberty1  since these
 things make them less easy and willing 
to submit to a cruel  and unjust        
government4 ,whereas necessity and      
poverty blunts them1 makes  them        

patient1 beats them down1 and breaks    
that height of spirit that  might       
otherwise dispose them to rebel4 ,now   
what if1 after all these  propositions  
were made1 ,i should rise up and assert 
that such counsels  were both unbecoming
 a king and mischievous to him2 and that
 not only  his honour1 but his safety1  
consisted more in his people's wealth   
than  in his own2 if ,i should show that
 they choose a king for their own  sake1
 and not for his2 that1 by his care and 
endeavours1 they may be  both easy and  
safe2 and that1 therefore1 a prince     
ought to take more  care of his people's
 happiness than of his own1 as a        
shepherd is to  take more care of his   
flock than of himself8 ,it is also      
certain that  they are much mistaken    
that think the poverty of a nation is a 
means of  the public safety4 ,who       
quarrel more than beggars8 who does more
  earnestly long for a change than he   
that is uneasy in his present           
circumstances8 and who run to create    

confusions with so desperate a  boldness
 as those who1 having nothing to lose1  
hope to gain by them8 ,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 usage1  
and by  rendering them poor and         
miserable1 it were certainly better for 
him to  quit his kingdom than to retain 
it by such methods as make him1 while   
he keeps the name of authority1 lose the
 majesty due to it4 ,nor is it  so      
becoming the dignity of a king to reign 
over beggars as over rich  and happy    
subjects4 ,and therefore ,fabricius1 a  
man of a noble and  exalted temper1 said
 #8he would rather govern rich men than 
be rich  himself2 since for one man to  
abound in wealth and pleasure when all  
about him are mourning and groaning1 is 
to be a gaoler and not a king4'  ,he is 
an unskilful physician that cannot cure 
one disease without  casting his patient
 into another4 ,so he that can find no  
other way for  correcting the errors of 

his people but by taking from them the  
conveniences of life1 shows that he     
knows not what it is to govern a  free  
nation4 ,he himself ought rather to     
shake off his sloth1 or to lay  down his
 pride1 for the contempt or hatred that 
his people have for him  takes its rise 
from the vices in himself4 ,let him live
 upon what  belongs to him without      
wronging others1 and accommodate his    
expense to  his revenue4 ,let him punish
 crimes1 and1 by his wise conduct1 let  
him  endeavour to prevent them1 rather  
than be severe when he has suffered     
them to be too common4 ,let him not     
rashly revive laws that are  abrogated  
by disuse1 especially if they have been 
long forgotten and  never wanted4 ,and  
let him never take any penalty for the  
breach of them  to which a judge would  
not give way in a private man1 but would
 look on  him as a crafty and unjust    
person for pretending to it4 ,to these  
things  ,i would add that law among the 
,macarians--a people that live not far  

from ,utopia--by which their king1 on   
the day on which he began to reign1  is 
tied by an oath1 confirmed by solemn    
sacrifices1 never to have at  once above
 a thousand pounds of gold in his       
treasures1 or so much  silver as is     
equal to that in value4 ,this law1 they 
tell us1 was made  by an excellent king 
who had more regard to the riches of his
 country  than to his own wealth1 and   
therefore provided against the heaping  
up  of so much treasure as might        
impoverish the people4 ,he thought that 
moderate sum might be sufficient for any
 accident1 if either the king  had      
occasion for it against the rebels1 or  
the kingdom against the  invasion of an 
enemy2 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 law4
 ,he also thought that it was a good    
provision for  that free circulation of 
money so necessary for the course of    
commerce  and exchange4 ,and when a king

 must distribute all those extraordinary
  accessions that increase treasure     
beyond the due pitch1 it makes him  less
 disposed to oppress his subjects4 ,such
 a king as this will be the  terror of  
ill men1 and will be beloved by all the 
good4    8,if1 ,i say1 ,i should talk of
 these or such-like things to men that  
had  taken their bias another way1 how  
deaf would they be to all ,i could      
say60 8,no doubt1 very deaf10 answered  
,i2 8and no wonder1 for one is  never to
 offer propositions or advice that we   
are certain will not be  entertained4   
,discourses so much out of the road     
could not avail  anything1 nor have any 
effect on men whose minds were          
prepossessed with  different sentiments4
 ,this philosophical way of speculation 
is not  unpleasant among friends in a   
free conversation2 but there is no room 
for it in the courts of princes1 where  
great affairs are carried on by         
authority40 8,that is what ,i was       
saying10 replied he1 8that there is no  

room for philosophy in the courts of    
princes40 8,yes1 there is10 said ,i1    
8but not for this speculative           
philosophy1 that makes everything to be 
alike fitting at all times2 but there is
 another philosophy that is  more       
pliable1 that knows its proper scene1   
accommodates itself to it1  and teaches 
a man with propriety and decency to act 
that part which has  fallen to his      
share4 ,if when one of ,plautus'        
comedies is upon the  stage1 and a      
company of servants are acting their    
parts1 you should  come out in the garb 
of a philosopher1 and repeat1 out of    
,octavia1 a  discourse of ,seneca's to  
,nero1 would it not be better for you to
 say  nothing than by mixing things of  
such different natures to make an       
impertinent tragi-comedy8 for you spoil 
and corrupt the play that is in  hand   
when you mix with it things of an       
opposite nature1 even though  they are  
much better4 ,therefore go through with 
the play that is acting  the best you   

can1 and do not confound it because     
another that is  pleasanter comes into  
your thoughts4 ,it is even so in a      
commonwealth  and in the councils of    
princes2 if ill opinions cannot be quite
 rooted  out1 and you cannot cure some  
received vice according to your wishes1 
you must not1 therefore1 abandon the    
commonwealth1 for the same reasons  as  
you should not forsake the ship in a    
storm because you cannot  command the   
winds4 ,you are not obliged to assault  
people with  discourses that are out of 
their road1 when you see that their     
received  notions must prevent your     
making an impression upon them3 you     
ought  rather to cast about and to      
manage things with all the dexterity in 
your power1 so that1 if you are not able
 to make them go well1 they may  be as  
little ill as possible2 for1 except all 
men were good1 everything  cannot be    
right1 and that is a blessing that ,i do
 not at present hope  to see40          
8,according to your argument10 answered 

he1 8all that ,i could  be able to do   
would be to preserve myself from being  
mad while ,i  endeavoured to cure the   
madness of others2 for1 if ,i speak     
truth1 ,i  must repeat what ,i have said
 to you2 and as for lying1 whether a    
philosopher can do it or not ,i cannot  
tell3 ,i am sure ,i cannot do it4  ,but 
though these discourses may be uneasy   
and ungrateful to them1 ,i do  not see  
why they should seem foolish or         
extravagant2 indeed1 if ,i  should      
either propose such things as ,plato has
 contrived in his  #8,commonwealth1' or 
as the ,utopians practise in theirs1    
though they  might seem better1 as      
certainly they are1 yet they are so     
different  from our establishment1 which
 is founded on property 7there being no 
such thing among them71 that ,i could   
not expect that it would have any       
effect on them4 ,but such discourses as 
mine1 which only call past evils  to    
mind and give warning of what may       
follow1 leave nothing in them that  is  

so absurd that they may not be used at  
any time1 for they can only  be         
unpleasant to those who are resolved to 
run headlong the contrary  way2 and if  
we must let alone everything as absurd  
or  extravagant--which1 by reason of the
 wicked lives of many1 may seem         
uncouth--we must1 even among            
,christians1 give over pressing the     
greatest  part of those things that     
,christ hath taught us1 though ,he has  
commanded us not to conceal them1 but to
 proclaim on the housetops that  which  
,he taught in secret4 ,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 
been1 but the preachers seem to have    
learned that craft  to which you advise 
me3 for they1 observing that the world  
would not  willingly suit their lives to
 the rules that ,christ has given1 have 
fitted ,his doctrine1 as if it had been 
a leaden rule1 to their lives1  that so1
 some way or other1 they might agree    

with one another4 ,but ,i  see no other 
effect of this compliance except it be  
that men become  more secure in their   
wickedness by it2 and this is all the   
success that  ,i can have in a court1   
for ,i must always differ from the rest1
 and then  ,i shall signify nothing2 or1
 if ,i agree with them1 ,i shall then   
only  help forward their madness4 ,i do 
not comprehend what you mean by your    
#8casting about1' or by #8the bending   
and handling things so dexterously      
that1 if they go not well1 they may go  
as little ill as may be2' for in  courts
 they will not bear with a man's holding
 his peace or conniving  at what others 
do3 a man must barefacedly approve of   
the worst counsels  and consent to the  
blackest designs3 so that he would pass 
for a spy1  or1 possibly1 for a traitor1
 that did but coldly approve of such    
wicked  practices2 and therefore when a 
man is engaged in such a society1 he    
will be so far from being able to mend  
matters by his #8casting about1'  as you

 call it1 that he will find no occasions
 of doing any good--the  ill company    
will sooner corrupt him than be the     
better for him2 or if1  notwithstanding 
all their ill company1 he still remains 
steady and  innocent1 yet their follies 
and knavery will be imputed to him2 and1
 by  mixing counsels with them1 he must 
bear his share of all the blame that    
belongs wholly to others4    8,it was no
 ill simile by which ,plato set forth   
the unreasonableness of  a philosopher's
 meddling with government4 #8,if a man1'
 says he1 #8were 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      
storm1  and that all that could be      
expected by his going to speak to them  
would  be that he himself should be as  
wet as they1 it would be best for him   
to keep within doors1 and1 since he had 
not influence enough to correct  other  

people's folly1 to take care to preserve
 himself4'    8,though1 to speak plainly
 my real sentiments1 ,i must freely own 
that as  long as there is any property1 
and while money is the standard of all  
other things1 ,i cannot think that a    
nation can be governed either  justly or
 happily3 not justly1 because the best  
things will fall to the  share of the   
worst men2 nor happily1 because all     
things will be divided  among a few 7and
 even these are not in all respects     
happy71 the rest  being left to be      
absolutely miserable4 ,therefore1 when  
,i reflect on the  wise and good        
constitution of the ,utopians1 among    
whom all things are  so well governed   
and with so few laws1 where virtue hath 
its due  reward1 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 laws1 and yet can never bring
 their constitution to a right          
regulation2 where1 notwithstanding every

 one has his property1 yet all  the laws
 that they can invent have not the power
 either to obtain or  preserve it1 or   
even to enable men certainly to         
distinguish what is  their own from what
 is another's1 of which the many        
lawsuits that every  day break out1 and 
are eternally depending1 give too plain 
a  demonstration--when1 ,i say1 ,i      
balance all these things in my thoughts1
 ,i  grow more favourable to ,plato1 and
 do not wonder that he resolved not  to 
make any laws for such as would not     
submit to a community of all  things2   
for so wise a man could not but foresee 
that the setting all  upon a level was  
the only way to make a nation happy2    
which cannot be  obtained so long as    
there is property1 for when every man   
draws to  himself all that he can       
compass1 by one title or another1 it    
must needs  follow that1 how plentiful  
soever a nation may be1 yet a few       
dividing  the wealth of it among        
themselves1 the rest must fall into     

indigence4  ,so that there will be two  
sorts of people among them1 who deserve 
that  their fortunes should be          
interchanged--the former useless1 but   
wicked  and ravenous2 and the latter1   
who by their constant industry serve the
  public more than themselves1 sincere  
and modest men--from whence ,i am       
persuaded that till property is taken   
away1 there can be no equitable  or just
 distribution of things1 nor can the    
world be happily governed2  for as long 
as that is maintained1 the greatest and 
the far best part  of mankind1 will be  
still oppressed with a load of cares and
 anxieties4  ,i confess1 without taking 
it quite away1 those pressures that lie 
on a  great part of mankind may be made 
lighter1 but they can never be quite    
removed2 for if laws were made to       
determine at how great an extent in     
soil1 and at how much money1 every man  
must stop--to limit the prince1  that he
 might not grow too great2 and to       
restrain the people1 that they  might   

not become too insolent--and that none  
might factiously aspire to  public      
employments1 which ought neither to be  
sold nor made burdensome  by a great    
expense1 since otherwise those that     
serve in them would be  tempted to      
reimburse themselves by cheats and      
violence1 and it would  become necessary
 to find out rich men for undergoing    
those employments1  which ought rather  
to be trusted to the wise4 ,these laws1 
,i say1 might  have such effect as good 
diet and care might have on a sick man  
whose  recovery is desperate2 they might
 allay and mitigate the disease1 but  it
 could never be quite healed1 nor the   
body politic be brought again  to a good
 habit as long as property remains2 and 
it will fall out1 as  in a complication 
of diseases1 that by applying a remedy  
to one sore  you will provoke another1  
and that which removes the one ill      
symptom  produces others1 while the     
strengthening one part of the body      
weakens  the rest40 8,on the contrary10 

answered ,i1 8it seems to me that men   
cannot live conveniently where all      
things are common4 ,how can there be    
any plenty where every man will excuse  
himself from labour8 for as the  hope of
 gain doth not excite him1 so the       
confidence that he has in  other men's  
industry may make him slothful4 ,if     
people come to be  pinched with want1   
and yet cannot dispose of anything as   
their own1  what can follow upon this   
but perpetual sedition and bloodshed1   
especially when the reverence and       
authority due to magistrates falls to   
the ground8 for ,i cannot imagine how   
that can be kept up among those  that   
are in all things equal to one another40
 8,i do not wonder10 said  he1 8that it 
appears so to you1 since you have no    
notion1 or at least  no right one1 of   
such a constitution2 but if you had been
 in ,utopia  with me1 and had seen their
 laws and rules1 as ,i did1 for the     
space of  five years1 in which ,i lived 
among them1 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 ,europeans1 you  would 
then confess that you had never seen a  
people so well constituted  as they40   
8,you will not easily persuade me10 said
 ,peter1 8that any  nation in that new  
world is better governed than those     
among us2 for as  our understandings are
 not worse than theirs1 so our          
government 7if ,i  mistake not7 being   
more ancient1 a long practice has helped
 us to find  out many conveniences of   
life1 and some happy chances have       
discovered  other things to us which no 
man's understanding could ever have     
invented40 8,as for the antiquity either
 of their government or of  ours10 said 
he1 8you cannot pass a true judgment of 
it unless you had  read their histories2
 for1 if they are to be believed1 they  
had towns  among them before these parts
 were so much as inhabited2 and as for  
those discoveries that have been either 

hit on by chance or made by  ingenious  
men1 these might have happened there as 
well as here4 ,i do  not deny but we are
 more ingenious than they are1 but they 
exceed us  much in industry and         
application4 ,they knew little          
concerning us before  our arrival among 
them4 ,they call us all by a general    
name of #8,the  nations that lie beyond 
the equinoctial line2' for their        
chronicle  mentions a shipwreck that was
 made on their coast twelve hundred     
years  ago1 and that some ,romans and   
,egyptians that were in the ship1       
getting  safe ashore1 spent the rest of 
their days amongst them2 and such was   
their ingenuity that from this single   
opportunity they drew the  advantage of 
learning from those unlooked-for guests1
 and acquired all  the useful arts that 
were then among the ,romans1 and which  
were known  to these shipwrecked men2   
and by the hints that they gave them    
they  themselves found out even some of 
those arts which they could not fully   

explain1 so happily did they improve    
that accident of having some of  our    
people cast upon their shore4 ,but if   
such an accident has at any  time       
brought any from thence into ,europe1 we
 have been so far from  improving it    
that we do not so much as remember it1  
as1 in aftertimes  perhaps1 it will be  
forgot by our people that ,i was ever   
there2 for  though they1 from one such  
accident1 made themselves masters of all
 the  good inventions that were among   
us1 yet ,i believe it would be long     
before we should learn or put in        
practice any of the good institutions   
that are among them4 ,and this is the   
true cause of their being better        
governed and living happier than we1    
though we come not short of them  in    
point of understanding or outward       
advantages40 ,upon this ,i said to  him1
 8,i earnestly beg you would describe   
that island very particularly  to us2 be
 not too short1 but set out in order all
 things relating to  their soil1 their  

rivers1 their towns1 their people1 their
 manners1  constitution1 laws1 and1 in a
 word1 all that you imagine we desire to
  know2 and you may well imagine that we
 desire to know everything  concerning  
them of which we are hitherto ignorant40
 8,i will do it very  willingly10 said  
he1 8for ,i have digested the whole     
matter carefully1  but it will take up  
some time40 8,let us go1 then10 said ,i1
 8first and  dine1 and then we shall    
have leisure enough40 ,he consented2 we 
went in  and dined1 and after dinner    
came back and sat down in the same      
place4 ,i  ordered my servants to take  
care that none might come and interrupt 
us1  and both ,peter and ,i desired     
,raphael to be as good as his word4     
,when he  saw that we were very intent  
upon it he paused a little to recollect 
himself1 and began in this manner3--    
8,the island of ,utopia is in the middle
 two hundred miles broad1 and  holds    
almost at the same breadth over a great 
part of it1 but it grows  narrower      

towards both ends4 ,its figure is not   
unlike a crescent4  ,between its horns  
the sea comes in eleven miles broad1 and
 spreads  itself into a great bay1 which
 is environed with land to the compass  
of  about five hundred miles1 and is    
well secured from winds4 ,in this bay   
there is no great current2 the whole    
coast is1 as it were1 one  continued    
harbour1 which gives all that live in   
the island great  convenience for mutual
 commerce4 ,but the entry into the bay1 
occasioned  by rocks on the one hand and
 shallows on the other1 is very         
dangerous4  ,in the middle of it there  
is one single rock which appears above  
water1  and may1 therefore1 easily be   
avoided2 and on the top of it there is a
  tower1 in which a garrison is kept2   
the other rocks lie under water1  and   
are very dangerous4 ,the channel is     
known only to the natives2 so  that if  
any stranger should enter into the bay  
without one of their  pilots he would   
run great danger of shipwreck4 ,for even

 they themselves  could not pass it safe
 if some marks that are on the coast did
 not  direct their way2 and if these    
should be but a little shifted1 any     
fleet that might come against them1 how 
great soever it were1 would be          
certainly lost4 ,on the other side of   
the island there are likewise many      
harbours2 and the coast is so fortified1
 both by nature and art1 that a  small  
number of men can hinder the descent of 
a great army4 ,but they  report 7and    
there remains good marks of it to make  
it credible7 that  this was no island at
 first1 but a part of the continent4    
,utopus1 that  conquered it 7whose name 
it still carries1 for ,abraxa was its   
first  name71 brought the rude and      
uncivilised inhabitants into such a good
  government1 and to that measure of    
politeness1 that they now far excel  all
 the rest of mankind4 ,having soon      
subdued them1 he designed to  separate  
them from the continent1 and to bring   
the sea quite round  them4 ,to          

accomplish this he ordered a deep       
channel to be dug1 fifteen  miles long2 
and that the natives might not think he 
treated them like  slaves1 he not only  
forced the inhabitants1 but also his own
 soldiers1  to labour in carrying it on4
 ,as he set a vast number of men to     
work1  he1 beyond all men's             
expectations1 brought it to a speedy    
conclusion4  ,and his neighbours1 who at
 first laughed at the folly of the      
undertaking1 no sooner saw it brought to
 perfection than they were  struck with 
admiration and terror4    8,there are   
fifty-four cities in the island1 all    
large and well built1  the manners1     
customs1 and laws of which are the same1
 and they are all  contrived as near in 
the same manner as the ground on which  
they stand  will allow4 ,the nearest lie
 at least twenty-four miles' distance   
from  one another1 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 it4 ,every  city   

sends three of their wisest senators    
once a year to ,amaurot1 to  consult    
about their common concerns2 for that is
 the chief town of the  island1 being   
situated near the centre of it1 so that 
it is the most  convenient place for    
their assemblies4 ,the jurisdiction of  
every city  extends at least twenty     
miles1 and1 where the towns lie wider1  
they  have much more ground4 ,no town   
desires to enlarge its bounds1 for the  
people consider themselves rather as    
tenants than landlords4 ,they have      
built1 over all the country1 farmhouses 
for husbandmen1 which are well          
contrived1 and furnished with all things
 necessary for country labour4          
,inhabitants are sent1 by turns1 from   
the cities to dwell in them2 no  country
 family has fewer than forty men and    
women in it1 besides two  slaves4 ,there
 is a master and a mistress set over    
every family1 and  over thirty families 
there is a magistrate4 ,every year      
twenty of this  family come back to the 

town after they have stayed two years in
 the  country1 and in their room there  
are other twenty sent from the town1    
that they may learn country work from   
those that have been already one  year  
in the country1 as they must teach those
 that come to them the  next from the   
town4 ,by this means such as dwell in   
those country farms  are never ignorant 
of agriculture1 and so commit no errors 
which might  otherwise be fatal and     
bring them under a scarcity of corn4    
,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 
long1 yet many among them take such     
pleasure in it that they desire  leave  
to continue in it many years4 ,these    
husbandmen till the ground1  breed      
cattle1 hew wood1 and convey it to the  
towns either by land or  water1 as is   
most convenient4 ,they breed an infinite
 multitude of  chickens in a very       
curious manner2 for the hens do not sit 

and hatch  them1 but a vast number of   
eggs are laid in a gentle and equal heat
 in  order to be hatched1 and they are  
no sooner out of the shell1 and able  to
 stir about1 but they seem to consider  
those that feed them as their  mothers1 
and follow them as other chickens do the
 hen that hatched  them4 ,they breed    
very few horses1 but those they have are
 full of  mettle1 and are kept only for 
exercising their youth in the art of    
sitting and riding them2 for they do not
 put them to any work1 either  of       
ploughing or carriage1 in which they    
employ oxen4 ,for though their  horses  
are stronger1 yet they find oxen can    
hold out longer2 and as  they are not   
subject to so many diseases1 so they are
 kept upon a less  charge and with less 
trouble4 ,and even when they are so worn
 out that  they are no more fit for     
labour1 they are good meat at last4     
,they sow  no corn but that which is to 
be their bread2 for they drink either   
wine1 cider or perry1 and often water1  

sometimes boiled with honey or          
liquorice1 with which they abound2 and  
though they know exactly how  much corn 
will serve every town and all that tract
 of country which  belongs to it1 yet   
they sow much more and breed more cattle
 than are  necessary for their          
consumption1 and they give that overplus
 of which  they make no use to their    
neighbours4 ,when they want anything in 
the  country which it does not produce1 
they fetch that from the town1  without 
carrying anything in exchange for it4   
,and the magistrates of  the town take  
care to see it given them2 for they meet
 generally in the  town once a month1   
upon a festival day4 ,when the time of  
harvest comes1  the magistrates in the  
country send to those in the towns and  
let them  know how many hands they will 
need for reaping the harvest2 and the   
number they call for being sent to them1
 they commonly despatch it all  in one  
day4          ,,of ,,their ,,towns1     
,,particularly ,,of ,,amaurot      8,he 

that knows one of their towns knows them
 all--they are so like one  another1    
except where the situation makes some   
difference4 ,i shall  therefore describe
 one of them1 and none is so proper as  
,amaurot2 for  as none is more eminent  
7all the rest yielding in precedence to 
this1  because it is the seat of their  
supreme council71 so there was none of  
them better known to me1 ,i having lived
 five years all together in it4    8,it 
lies upon the side of a hill1 or1       
rather1 a rising ground4 ,its  figure is
 almost square1 for from the one side of
 it1 which shoots up  almost to the top 
of the hill1 it runs down1 in a descent 
for two  miles1 to the river ,anider2   
but it is a little broader the other way
  that runs along by the bank of that   
river4 ,the ,anider rises about  eighty 
miles above ,amaurot1 in a small spring 
at first4 ,but other  brooks falling    
into it1 of which two are more          
considerable than the  rest1 as it runs 
by ,amaurot it is grown half a mile     

broad2 but1 it  still grows larger and  
larger1 till1 after sixty miles' course 
below  it1 it is lost in the ocean4     
,between the town and the sea1 and for  
some  miles above the town1 it ebbs and 
flows every six hours with a strong     
current4 ,the tide comes up about thirty
 miles so full that there is  nothing   
but salt water in the river1 the fresh  
water being driven back  with its force2
 and above that1 for some miles1 the    
water is brackish2  but a little higher1
 as it runs by the town1 it is quite    
fresh2 and  when the tide ebbs1 it      
continues fresh all along to the sea4   
,there is a  bridge cast over the river1
 not of timber1 but of fair stone1      
consisting of many stately arches2 it   
lies at that part of the town  which is 
farthest from the sea1 so that the      
ships1 without any  hindrance1 lie all  
along the side of the town4 ,there is1  
likewise1  another river that runs by   
it1 which1 though it is not great1 yet  
it  runs pleasantly1 for it rises out of

 the same hill on which the town        
stands1 and so runs down through it and 
falls into the ,anider4 ,the            
inhabitants have fortified the          
fountain-head of this river1 which      
springs a little without the towns2 that
 so1 if they should happen to  be       
besieged1 the enemy might not be able to
 stop or divert the course  of the      
water1 nor poison it2 from thence it is 
carried1 in earthen  pipes1 to the lower
 streets4 ,and for those places of the  
town to which  the water of that small  
river cannot be conveyed1 they have     
great  cisterns for receiving the       
rain-water1 which supplies the want of  
the  other4 ,the town is compassed with 
a high and thick wall1 in which there   
are many towers and forts2 there is also
 a broad and deep dry ditch1  set thick 
with thorns1 cast round three sides of  
the town1 and the  river is instead of a
 ditch on the fourth side4 ,the streets 
are very  convenient for all carriage1  
and are well sheltered from the winds4  

,their buildings are good1 and are so   
uniform that a whole side of a  street  
looks like one house4 ,the streets are  
twenty feet broad2 there  lie gardens   
behind all their houses4 ,these are     
large1 but enclosed with  buildings1    
that on all hands face the streets1 so  
that every house has  both a door to the
 street and a back door to the garden4  
,their doors  have all two leaves1      
which1 as they are easily opened1 so    
they shut of  their own accord2 and1    
there being no property among them1     
every man  may freely enter into any    
house whatsoever4 ,at every ten years'  
end  they shift their houses by lots4   
,they cultivate their gardens with      
great care1 so that they have both      
vines1 fruits1 herbs1 and flowers in    
them2 and all is so well ordered and so 
finely kept that ,i never saw  gardens  
anywhere that were both so fruitful and 
so beautiful as theirs4  ,and this      
humour of ordering their gardens so well
 is not only kept up  by the pleasure   

they find in it1 but also by an         
emulation between the  inhabitants of   
the several streets1 who vie with each  
other4 ,and there  is1 indeed1 nothing  
belonging to the whole town that is both
 more  useful and more pleasant4 ,so    
that he who founded the town seems to   
have  taken care of nothing more than of
 their gardens2 for they say the  whole 
scheme of the town was designed at first
 by ,utopus1 but he left  all that      
belonged to the ornament and improvement
 of it to be added by  those that should
 come after him1 that being too much for
 one man to  bring to perfection4 ,their
 records1 that contain the history of   
their  town and ,state1 are preserved   
with an exact care1 and run backwards   
seventeen hundred and sixty years4 ,from
 these it appears that their  houses    
were at first low and mean1 like        
cottages1 made of any sort of  timber1  
and were built with mud walls and       
thatched with straw4 ,but now  their    
houses are three storeys high1 the      

fronts of them are faced  either with   
stone1 plastering1 or brick1 and between
 the facings of  their walls they throw 
in their rubbish4 ,their roofs are flat1
 and on  them they lay a sort of        
plaster1 which costs very little1 and   
yet is so  tempered that it is not apt  
to take fire1 and yet resists the       
weather  more than lead4 ,they have     
great quantities of glass among them1   
with  which they glaze their windows2   
they use also in their windows a thin   
linen cloth1 that is so oiled or gummed 
that it both keeps out the wind  and    
gives free admission to the light4      
,,of ,,their ,,magistrates      8,thirty
 families choose every year a           
magistrate1 who was anciently  called   
the ,syphogrant1 but is now called the  
,philarch2 and over every  ten          
,syphogrants1 with the families subject 
to them1 there is another  magistrate1  
who was anciently called the ,tranibore1
 but of late the  ,archphilarch4 ,all   
the ,syphogrants1 who are in number two 

hundred1  choose the ,prince out of a   
list of four who are named by the people
 of  the four divisions of the city2 but
 they take an oath1 before they  proceed
 to an election1 that they will choose  
him whom they think most  fit for the   
office3 they give him their voices      
secretly1 so that it is  not known for  
whom every one gives his suffrage4 ,the 
,prince is for  life1 unless he is      
removed upon suspicion of some design to
 enslave the  people4 ,the ,tranibors   
are new chosen every year1 but yet they 
are1 for  the most part1 continued2 all 
their other magistrates are only annual4
  ,the ,tranibors meet every third day1 
and oftener if necessary1 and  consult  
with the ,prince either concerning the  
affairs of the ,state in  general1 or   
such private differences as may arise   
sometimes among the  people1 though that
 falls out but seldom4 ,there are always
 two  ,syphogrants called into the      
council chamber1 and these are changed  
every day4 ,it is a fundamental rule of 

their government1 that no  conclusion   
can be made in anything that relates to 
the public till it  has been first      
debated three several days in their     
council4 ,it is death  for any to meet  
and consult concerning the ,state1      
unless it be either  in their ordinary  
council1 or in the assembly of the whole
 body of the  people4    8,these things 
have been so provided among them that   
the ,prince and the  ,tranibors may not 
conspire together to change the         
government and  enslave the people2 and 
therefore when anything of great        
importance is  set on foot1 it is sent  
to the ,syphogrants1 who1 after they    
have  communicated it to the families   
that belong to their divisions1 and     
have considered it among themselves1    
make report to the senate2 and1  upon   
great occasions1 the matter is referred 
to the council of the  whole island4    
,one rule observed in their council is1 
never to debate a  thing on the same day
 in which it is first proposed2 for that

 is always  referred to the next        
meeting1 that so men may not rashly and 
in the  heat of discourse engage        
themselves too soon1 which might bias   
them so  much that1 instead of          
consulting the good of the public1 they 
might  rather study to support their    
first opinions1 and by a perverse and   
preposterous sort of shame hazard their 
country rather than endanger  their own 
reputation1 or venture the being        
suspected to have wanted  foresight in  
the expedients that they at first       
proposed2 and therefore1  to prevent    
this1 they take care that they may      
rather be deliberate than  sudden in    
their motions4          ,,of ,,their    
,,trades1 ,,and ,,manner ,,of ,,life    
8,agriculture is that which is so       
universally understood among them that  
no person1 either man or woman1 is      
ignorant of it2 they are instructed  in 
it from their childhood1 partly by what 
they learn at school1 and  partly by    
practice1 they being led out often into 

the fields about the  town1 where they  
not only see others at work but are     
likewise exercised  in it themselves4   
,besides agriculture1 which is so common
 to them all1  every man has some       
peculiar trade to which he applies      
himself2 such as  the manufacture of    
wool or flax1 masonry1 smith's work1 or 
carpenter's  work2 for there is no sort 
of trade that is in great esteem among  
them4  ,throughout the island they wear 
the same sort of clothes1 without any   
other distinction except what is        
necessary to distinguish the two sexes  
and the married and unmarried4 ,the     
fashion never alters1 and as it is      
neither disagreeable nor uneasy1 so it  
is suited to the climate1 and           
calculated both for their summers and   
winters4 ,every family makes their  own 
clothes2 but all among them1 women as   
well as men1 learn one or  other of the 
trades formerly mentioned4 ,women1 for  
the most part1 deal  in wool and flax1  
which suit best with their weakness1    

leaving the  ruder trades to the men4   
,the same trade generally passes down   
from  father to son1 inclinations often 
following descent3 but if any man's     
genius lies another way he is1 by       
adoption1 translated into a family  that
 deals in the trade to which he is      
inclined2 and when that is to be  done1 
care is taken1 not only by his father1  
but by the magistrate1  that he may be  
put to a discreet and good man3 and if1 
after a person  has learned one trade1  
he desires to acquire another1 that is  
also  allowed1 and is managed in the    
same manner as the former4 ,when he has 
learned both1 he follows that which he  
likes best1 unless the public  has more 
occasion for the other4    ,the chief1  
and almost the only1 business of the    
,syphogrants is to take  care that no   
man may live idle1 but that every one   
may follow his trade  diligently2 yet   
they do not wear themselves out with    
perpetual toil  from morning to night1  
as if they were beasts of burden1 which 

as it is  indeed a heavy slavery1 so it 
is everywhere the common course of life 
amongst all mechanics except the        
,utopians3 but they1 dividing the day   
and night into twenty-four hours1       
appoint six of these for work1 three  of
 which are before dinner and three      
after2 they then sup1 and at eight      
o'clock1 counting from noon1 go to bed  
and sleep eight hours3 the rest  of     
their time1 besides that taken up in    
work1 eating1 and sleeping1 is  left to 
every man's discretion2 yet they are not
 to abuse that interval  to luxury and  
idleness1 but must employ it in some    
proper exercise1  according to their    
various inclinations1 which is1 for the 
most part1  reading4 ,it is ordinary to 
have public lectures every morning      
before  daybreak1 at which none are     
obliged to appear but those who are     
marked  out for literature2 yet a great 
many1 both men and women1 of all ranks1 
go to hear lectures of one sort or      
other1 according to their  inclinations3

 but if others that are not made for    
contemplation1 choose  rather to employ 
themselves at that time in their trades1
 as many of  them do1 they are not      
hindered1 but are rather commended1 as  
men that  take care to serve their      
country4 ,after supper they spend an    
hour in  some diversion1 in summer in   
their gardens1 and in winter in the     
halls  where they eat1 where they       
entertain each other either with music  
or  discourse4 ,they do not so much as  
know dice1 or any such foolish and      
mischievous games4 ,they have1 however1 
two sorts of games not unlike  our      
chess2 the one is between several       
numbers1 in which one number1 as  it    
were1 consumes another2 the other       
resembles a battle between the  virtues 
and the vices1 in which the enmity in   
the vices among  themselves1 and their  
agreement against virtue1 is not        
unpleasantly  represented2 together with
 the special opposition between the     
particular virtues and vices2 as also   

the methods by which vice either  openly
 assaults or secretly undermines virtue2
 and virtue1 on the other  hand1 resists
 it4 ,but the time appointed for labour 
is to be narrowly  examined1 otherwise  
you may imagine that since there are    
only six hours  appointed for work1 they
 may fall under a scarcity of necessary 
provisions3 but it is so far from being 
true that this time is not  sufficient  
for supplying them with plenty of all   
things1 either  necessary or convenient1
 that it is rather too much2 and this   
you will  easily apprehend if you       
consider how great a part of all other  
nations  is quite idle4 ,first1 women   
generally do little1 who are the half of
  mankind2 and if some few women are    
diligent1 their husbands are idle3  then
 consider the great company of idle     
priests1 and of those that are  called  
religious men2 add to these all rich    
men1 chiefly those that  have estates in
 land1 who are called noblemen and      
gentlemen1 together  with their         

families1 made up of idle persons1 that 
are kept more for  show than use2 add to
 these all those strong and lusty       
beggars that go  about pretending some  
disease in excuse for their begging2 and
 upon the  whole account you will find  
that the number of those by whose       
labours  mankind is supplied is much    
less than you perhaps imagined3 then    
consider how few of those that work are 
employed in labours that are of  real   
service1 for we1 who measure all things 
by money1 give rise to  many trades that
 are both vain and superfluous1 and     
serve only to  support riot and luxury3 
for if those who work were employed only
 in  such things as the conveniences of 
life require1 there would be such an    
abundance of them that the prices of    
them would so sink that tradesmen  could
 not be maintained by their gains2 if   
all those who labour about  useless     
things were set to more profitable      
employments1 and if all they  that      
languish out their lives in sloth and   

idleness 7every one of whom  consumes as
 much as any two of the men that are at 
work7 were forced to  labour1 you may   
easily imagine that a small proportion  
of time would  serve for doing all that 
is either necessary1 profitable1 or     
pleasant  to mankind1 especially while  
pleasure is kept within its due bounds3 
this appears very plainly in ,utopia2   
for there1 in a great city1 and in  all 
the territory that lies round it1 you   
can scarce find five hundred1  either   
men or women1 by their age and strength 
capable of labour1 that  are not engaged
 in it4 ,even the ,syphogrants1 though  
excused by the law1  yet do not excuse  
themselves1 but work1 that by their     
examples they may  excite the industry  
of the rest of the people2 the like     
exemption is  allowed to those who1     
being recommended to the people by the  
priests1  are1 by the secret suffrages  
of the ,syphogrants1 privileged from    
labour1 that they may apply themselves  
wholly to study2 and if any of  these   

fall short of those hopes that they     
seemed at first to give1 they  are      
obliged to return to work2 and sometimes
 a mechanic that so employs  his leisure
 hours as to make a considerable        
advancement in learning is  eased from  
being a tradesman and ranked among their
 learned men4 ,out of  these they choose
 their ambassadors1 their priests1 their
 ,tranibors1  and the ,prince himself1  
anciently called their ,barzenes1 but is
 called  of late their ,ademus4    8,and
 thus from the great numbers among them 
that are neither suffered  to be idle   
nor to be employed in any fruitless     
labour1 you may easily  make the        
estimate how much may be done in those  
few hours in which they  are obliged to 
labour4 ,but1 besides all that has been 
already said1 it  is to be considered   
that the needful arts among them are    
managed with  less labour than anywhere 
else4 ,the building or the repairing of 
houses  among us employ many hands1     
because often a thriftless heir suffers 

a  house that his father built to fall  
into decay1 so that his successor  must1
 at a great cost1 repair that which he  
might have kept up with a  small charge2
 it frequently happens that the same    
house which one  person built at a vast 
expense is neglected by another1 who    
thinks he  has a more delicate sense of 
the beauties of architecture1 and he1   
suffering it to fall to ruin1 builds    
another at no less charge4 ,but  among  
the ,utopians all things are so         
regulated that men very seldom  build   
upon a new piece of ground1 and are not 
only very quick in  repairing their     
houses1 but show their foresight in     
preventing their  decay1 so that their  
buildings are preserved very long with  
but very  little labour1 and thus the   
builders1 to whom that care belongs1 are
  often without employment1 except the  
hewing of timber and the squaring  of   
stones1 that the materials may be in    
readiness for raising a  building very  
suddenly when there is any occasion for 

it4 ,as to their  clothes1 observe how  
little work is spent in them2 while they
 are at  labour they are clothed with   
leather and skins1 cut carelessly about 
them1 which will last seven years1 and  
when they appear in public they  put on 
an upper garment which hides the other2 
and these are all of one  colour1 and   
that is the natural colour of the wool4 
,as they need less  woollen cloth than  
is used anywhere else1 so that which    
they make use  of is much less costly2  
they use linen cloth more1 but that is  
prepared  with less labour1 and they    
value cloth only by the whiteness of the
  linen or the cleanness of the wool1   
without much regard to the fineness  of 
the thread4 ,while in other places four 
or five upper garments of  woollen cloth
 of different colours1 and as many vests
 of silk1 will  scarce serve one man1   
and while those that are nicer think ten
 too few1  every man there is content   
with one1 which very often serves him   
two  years2 nor is there anything that  

can tempt a man to desire more1 for  if 
he had them he would neither be the1    
warmer nor would he make one  jot the   
better appearance for it4 ,and thus1    
since they are all employed  in some    
useful labour1 and since they content   
themselves with fewer  things1 it falls 
out that there is a great abundance of  
all things  among them2 so that it      
frequently happens that1 for want of    
other work1  vast numbers are sent out  
to mend the highways2 but when no public
  undertaking is to be performed1 the   
hours of working are lessened4 ,the     
magistrates never engage the people in  
unnecessary labour1 since the  chief end
 of the constitution is to regulate     
labour by the necessities  of the       
public1 and to allow the people as much 
time as is necessary for  the           
improvement of their minds1 in which    
they think the happiness of  life       
consists4          ,,of ,,their         
,,traffic      8,but it is now time to  
explain to you the mutual intercourse of

 this  people1 their commerce1 and the  
rules by which all things are           
distributed among them4    8,as their   
cities are composed of families1 so     
their families are made  up of those    
that are nearly related to one another4 
,their women1 when  they grow up1 are   
married out1 but all the males1 both    
children and  grand-children1 live still
 in the same house1 in great obedience  
to  their common parent1 unless age has 
weakened his understanding1 and in  that
 case he that is next to him in age     
comes in his room2 but lest any  city   
should become either too great1 or by   
any accident be dispeopled1  provision  
is made that none of their cities may   
contain above six  thousand families1   
besides those of the country around it4 
,no family  may have less than ten and  
more than sixteen persons in it1 but    
there  can be no determined number for  
the children under age2 this rule is    
easily observed by removing some of the 
children of a more fruitful  couple to  

any other family that does not abound so
 much in them4 ,by the  same rule they  
supply cities that do not increase so   
fast from others  that breed faster2 and
 if there is any increase over the whole
 island1  then they draw out a number of
 their citizens out of the several towns
  and send them over to the neighbouring
 continent1 where1 if they find  that   
the inhabitants have more soil than they
 can well cultivate1 they  fix a colony1
 taking the inhabitants into their      
society if they are  willing to live    
with them2 and where they do that of    
their own accord1  they quickly enter   
into their method of life and conform to
 their  rules1 and this proves a        
happiness to both nations2 for1         
according to  their constitution1 such  
care is taken of the soil that it       
becomes  fruitful enough for both1      
though it might be otherwise too narrow 
and  barren for any one of them4 ,but if
 the natives refuse to conform          
themselves to their laws they drive them

 out of those bounds which they  mark   
out for themselves1 and use force if    
they resist1 for they account  it a very
 just cause of war for a nation to      
hinder others from  possessing a part of
 that soil of which they make no use1   
but which is  suffered to lie idle and  
uncultivated1 since every man has1 by   
the law  of nature1 a right to such a   
waste portion of the earth as is        
necessary  for his subsistence4 ,if an  
accident has so lessened the number of  
the  inhabitants of any of their towns  
that it cannot be made up from the      
other towns of the island without       
diminishing them too much 7which is     
said to have fallen out but twice since 
they were first a people1 when  great   
numbers were carried off by the plague71
 the loss is then  supplied by recalling
 as many as are wanted from their       
colonies1 for  they will abandon these  
rather than suffer the towns in the     
island to  sink too low4    8,but to    
return to their manner of living in     

society3 the oldest man of  every       
family1 as has been already said1 is its
 governor2 wives serve  their husbands1 
and children their parents1 and always  
the younger  serves the elder4 ,every   
city is divided into four equal parts1  
and in  the middle of each there is a   
market-place4 ,what is brought thither1 
and manufactured by the several         
families1 is carried from thence to     
houses appointed for that purpose1 in   
which all things of a sort are  laid by 
themselves2 and thither every father    
goes1 and takes whatsoever  he or his   
family stand in need of1 without either 
paying for it or  leaving anything in   
exchange4 ,there is no reason for giving
 a denial to  any person1 since there is
 such plenty of everything among them2  
and  there is no danger of a man's      
asking for more than he needs2 they have
  no inducements to do this1 since they 
are sure they shall always be  supplied3
 it is the fear of want that makes any  
of the whole race of  animals either    

greedy or ravenous2 but1 besides fear1  
there is in man a  pride that makes him 
fancy it a particular glory to excel    
others in  pomp and excess2 but by the  
laws of the ,utopians1 there is no room 
for  this4 ,near these markets there are
 others for all sorts of provisions1    
where there are not only herbs1 fruits1 
and bread1 but also fish1 fowl1  and    
cattle4 ,there are also1 without their  
towns1 places appointed near  some      
running water for killing their beasts  
and for washing away their  filth1 which
 is done by their slaves2 for they      
suffer none of their  citizens to kill  
their cattle1 because they think that   
pity and  good-nature1 which are among  
the best of those affections that are   
born  with us1 are much impaired by the 
butchering of animals2 nor do they      
suffer anything that is foul or unclean 
to be brought within their  towns1 lest 
the air should be infected by           
ill-smells1 which might  prejudice their
 health4 ,in every street there are     

great halls1 that lie  at an equal      
distance from each other1 distinguished 
by particular  names4 ,the ,syphogrants 
dwell in those that are set over thirty 
families1 fifteen lying on one side of  
it1 and as many on the other4 ,in  these
 halls they all meet and have their     
repasts2 the stewards of every  one of  
them come to the market-place at an     
appointed hour1 and  according to the   
number of those that belong to the hall 
they carry  home provisions4 ,but they  
take more care of their sick than of any
  others2 these are lodged and provided 
for in public hospitals4 ,they  have    
belonging to every town four hospitals1 
that are built without  their walls1 and
 are so large that they may pass for    
little towns2 by  this means1 if they   
had ever such a number of sick persons1 
they could  lodge them conveniently1 and
 at such a distance that such of them as
  are sick of infectious diseases may be
 kept so far from the rest that  there  
can be no danger of contagion4 ,the     

hospitals are furnished and  stored with
 all things that are convenient for the 
ease and recovery of  the sick2 and     
those that are put in them are looked   
after with such  tender and watchful    
care1 and are so constantly attended by 
their  skilful physicians1 that as none 
is sent to them against their will1 so  
there is scarce one in a whole town     
that1 if he should fall ill1 would  not 
choose rather to go thither than lie    
sick at home4    8,after the steward of 
the hospitals has taken for the sick    
whatsoever  the physician prescribes1   
then the best things that are left in   
the  market are distributed equally     
among the halls in proportion to their  
numbers2 only1 in the first place1 they 
serve the ,prince1 the ,chief  ,priest1 
the ,tranibors1 the ,ambassadors1 and   
strangers1 if there are  any1 which1    
indeed1 falls out but seldom1 and for   
whom there are  houses1 well furnished1 
particularly appointed for their        
reception when  they come among them4   

,at the hours of dinner and supper the  
whole  ,syphogranty being called        
together by sound of trumpet1 they meet 
and  eat together1 except only such as  
are in the hospitals or lie sick at     
home4 ,yet1 after the halls are served1 
no man is hindered to carry  provisions 
home from the market-place1 for they    
know that none does  that but for some  
good reason2 for though any that will   
may eat at  home1 yet none does it      
willingly1 since it is both ridiculous  
and  foolish for any to give themselves 
the trouble to make ready an ill  dinner
 at home when there is a much more      
plentiful one made ready for  him so    
near hand4 ,all the uneasy and sordid   
services about these halls  are         
performed by their slaves2 but the      
dressing and cooking their meat1  and   
the ordering their tables1 belong only  
to the women1 all those of  every family
 taking it by turns4 ,they sit at three 
or more tables1  according to their     
number2 the men sit towards the wall1   

and the women  sit on the other side1   
that if any of them should be taken     
suddenly  ill1 which is no uncommon case
 amongst women with child1 she may1     
without disturbing the rest1 rise and go
 to the nurses' room 7who are  there    
with the sucking children71 where there 
is always clean water at  hand and      
cradles1 in which they may lay the young
 children if there is  occasion for it1 
and a fire1 that they may shift and     
dress them before  it4 ,every child is  
nursed by its own mother if death or    
sickness does  not intervene2 and in    
that case the ,syphogrants' wives find  
out a nurse  quickly1 which is no hard  
matter1 for any one that can do it      
offers  herself cheerfully2 for as they 
are much inclined to that piece of      
mercy1 so the child whom they nurse     
considers the nurse as its mother4  ,all
 the children under five years old sit  
among the nurses2 the rest of  the      
younger sort of both sexes1 till they   
are fit for marriage1 either  serve     

those that sit at table1 or1 if they are
 not strong enough for  that1 stand by  
them in great silence and eat what is   
given them2 nor  have they any other    
formality of dining4 ,in the middle of  
the first  table1 which stands across   
the upper end of the hall1 sit the      
,syphogrant and his wife1 for that is   
the chief and most conspicuous  place2  
next to him sit two of the most ancient1
 for there go always  four to a mess4   
,if there is a temple within the        
,syphogranty1 the ,priest  and his wife 
sit with the ,syphogrant above all the  
rest2 next them  there is a mixture of  
old and young1 who are so placed that as
 the  young are set near others1 so they
 are mixed with the more ancient2       
which1 they say1 was appointed on this  
account3 that the gravity of the  old   
people1 and the reverence that is due to
 them1 might restrain the  younger from 
all indecent words and gestures4 ,dishes
 are not served up  to the whole table  
at first1 but the best are first set    

before the old1  whose seats are        
distinguished from the young1 and1 after
 them1 all the  rest are served alike4  
,the old men distribute to the younger  
any  curious meats that happen to be set
 before them1 if there is not such  an  
abundance of them that the whole company
 may be served alike4    8,thus old men 
are honoured with a particular respect1 
yet all the rest  fare as well as they4 
,both dinner and supper are begun with  
some  lecture of morality that is read  
to them2 but it is so short that it is  
not tedious nor uneasy to them to hear  
it4 ,from hence the old men take        
occasion to entertain those about them  
with some useful and pleasant           
enlargements2 but they do not engross   
the whole discourse so to  themselves   
during their meals that the younger may 
not put in for a  share2 on the         
contrary1 they engage them to talk1 that
 so they may1 in  that free way of      
conversation1 find out the force of     
every one's spirit  and observe his     

temper4 ,they despatch their dinners    
quickly1 but sit  long at supper1       
because they go to work after the one1  
and are to sleep  after the other1      
during which they think the stomach     
carries on the  concoction more         
vigorously4 ,they never sup without     
music1 and there is  always fruit served
 up after meat2 while they are at table 
some burn  perfumes and sprinkle about  
fragrant ointments and sweet waters--in 
short1 they want nothing that may cheer 
up their spirits2 they give  themselves 
a large allowance that way1 and indulge 
themselves in all  such pleasures as are
 attended with no inconvenience4 ,thus  
do those  that are in the towns live    
together2 but in the country1 where they
  live at a great distance1 every one   
eats at home1 and no family wants  any  
necessary sort of provision1 for it is  
from them that provisions  are sent unto
 those that live in the towns4          
,,of ,,the ,,travelling ,,of ,,the      
,,utopians      ,if any man has a mind  

to visit his friends that live in some  
other  town1 or desires to travel and   
see the rest of the country1 he obtains 
leave very easily from the ,syphogrant  
and ,tranibors1 when there is no        
particular occasion for him at home4    
,such as travel carry with them a       
passport from the ,prince1 which both   
certifies the licence that is  granted  
for travelling1 and limits the time of  
their return4 ,they are  furnished with 
a waggon and a slave1 who drives the    
oxen and looks  after them2 but1 unless 
there are women in the company1 the     
waggon is  sent back at the end of the  
journey as a needless encumbrance4      
,while  they are on the road they carry 
no provisions with them1 yet they want  
for nothing1 but are everywhere treated 
as if they were at home4 ,if  they stay 
in any place longer than a night1 every 
one follows his  proper occupation1 and 
is very well used by those of his own   
trade2 but  if any man goes out of the  
city to which he belongs without leave1 

and  is found rambling without a        
passport1 he is severely treated1 he is 
punished as a fugitive1 and sent home   
disgracefully2 and1 if he falls  again  
into the like fault1 is condemned to    
slavery4 ,if any man has a  mind to     
travel only over the precinct of his own
 city1 he may freely do  it1 with his   
father's permission and his wife's      
consent2 but when he  comes into any of 
the country houses1 if he expects to be 
entertained  by them1 he must labour    
with them and conform to their rules2   
and if he  does this1 he may freely go  
over the whole precinct1 being then as  
useful to the city to which he belongs  
as if he were still within it4  ,thus   
you see that there are no idle persons  
among them1 nor pretences  of excusing  
any from labour4 ,there are no taverns1 
no ale-houses1 nor  stews among them1   
nor any other occasions of corrupting   
each other1 of  getting into corners1 or
 forming themselves into parties2 all   
men live  in full view1 so that all are 

obliged both to perform their ordinary  
task and to employ themselves well in   
their spare hours2 and it is  certain   
that a people thus ordered must live in 
great abundance of all  things1 and     
these being equally distributed among   
them1 no man can want  or be obliged to 
beg4    8,in their great council at     
,amaurot1 to which there are three sent 
from  every town once a year1 they      
examine what towns abound in provisions 
and what are under any scarcity1 that so
 the one may be furnished from  the     
other2 and this is done freely1 without 
any sort of exchange2 for1  according to
 their plenty or scarcity1 they supply  
or are supplied from  one another1 so   
that indeed the whole island is1 as it  
were1 one  family4 ,when they have thus 
taken care of their whole country1 and  
laid  up stores for two years 7which    
they do to prevent the ill consequences 
of an unfavourable season71 they order  
an exportation of the overplus1  both of
 corn1 honey1 wool1 flax1 wood1 wax1    

tallow1 leather1 and  cattle1 which they
 send out1 commonly in great quantities1
 to other  nations4 ,they order a       
seventh part of all these goods to be   
freely  given to the poor of the        
countries to which they send them1 and  
sell  the rest at moderate rates2 and by
 this exchange they not only bring  back
 those few things that they need at home
 7for1 indeed1 they scarce  need        
anything but iron71 but likewise a great
 deal of gold and silver2  and by their 
driving this trade so long1 it is not to
 be imagined how  vast a treasure they  
have got among them1 so that now they do
 not much  care whether they sell off   
their merchandise for money in hand or  
upon  trust4 ,a great part of their     
treasure is now in bonds2 but in all    
their  contracts no private man stands  
bound1 but the writing runs in the name 
of the town2 and the towns that owe them
 money raise it from those  private     
hands that owe it to them1 lay it up in 
their public chamber1  or enjoy the     

profit of it till the ,utopians call for
 it2 and they  choose rather to let the 
greatest part of it lie in their hands1 
who  make advantage by it1 than to call 
for it themselves2 but if they see  that
 any of their other neighbours stand    
more in need of it1 then they  call it  
in and lend it to them4 ,whenever they  
are engaged in war1 which  is the only  
occasion in which their treasure can be 
usefully employed1  they make use of it 
themselves2 in great extremities or     
sudden  accidents they employ it in     
hiring foreign troops1 whom they more   
willingly expose to danger than their   
own people2 they give them great  pay1  
knowing well that this will work even on
 their enemies2 that it  will engage    
them either to betray their own side1   
or1 at least1 to  desert it2 and that it
 is the best means of raising mutual    
jealousies  among them4 ,for this end   
they have an incredible treasure2 but   
they do  not keep it as a treasure1 but 
in such a manner as ,i am almost afraid 

to tell1 lest you think it so           
extravagant as to be hardly credible4   
,this ,i have the more reason to        
apprehend because1 if ,i had not seen it
  myself1 ,i could not have been easily 
persuaded to have believed it upon  any 
man's report4    8,it is certain that   
all things appear incredible to us in   
proportion as  they differ from known   
customs2 but one who can judge aright   
will not  wonder to find that1 since    
their constitution differs so much from 
ours1 their value of gold and silver    
should be measured by a very  different 
standard2 for since they have no use for
 money among  themselves1 but keep it as
 a provision against events which seldom
  happen1 and between which there are   
generally long intervening  intervals1  
they value it no farther than it        
deserves--that is1 in  proportion to its
 use4 ,so that it is plain they must    
prefer iron either  to gold or silver1  
for men can no more live without iron   
than without  fire or water2 but ,nature

 has marked out no use for the other    
metals so  essential as not easily to be
 dispensed with4 ,the folly of men has  
enhanced the value of gold and silver   
because of their scarcity2  whereas1 on 
the contrary1 it is their opinion that  
,nature1 as an  indulgent parent1 has   
freely given us all the best things in  
great  abundance1 such as water and     
earth1 but has laid up and hid from us  
the  things that are vain and useless4  
8,if these metals were laid up in any   
tower in the kingdom it would  raise a  
jealousy of the ,prince and ,senate1 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 advantage4 ,if they  
should work it into vessels1 or any sort
 of  plate1 they fear that the people   
might grow too fond of it1 and so be    
unwilling to let the plate be run down1 
if a war made it necessary1 to  employ  
it in paying their soldiers4 ,to prevent

 all these inconveniences  they have    
fallen upon an expedient which1 as it   
agrees with their other  policy1 so is  
it very different from ours1 and will   
scarce gain belief  among us who value  
gold so much1 and lay it up so          
carefully4 ,they eat  and drink out of  
vessels of earth or glass1 which make an
 agreeable  appearance1 though formed of
 brittle materials2 while they make     
their  chamber-pots and close-stools of 
gold and silver1 and that not only in   
their public halls but in their private 
houses4 ,of the same metals they        
likewise make chains and fetters for    
their slaves1 to some of which1 as  a   
badge of infamy1 they hang an earring of
 gold1 and make others wear a  chain or 
a coronet of the same metal2 and thus   
they take care by all  possible means to
 render gold and silver of no esteem2   
and from hence  it is that while other  
nations part with their gold and silver 
as  unwillingly as if one tore out their
 bowels1 those of ,utopia would look  on

 their giving in all they possess of    
those metals 7when there were  any use  
for them7 but as the parting with a     
trifle1 or as we would  esteem the loss 
of a penny6 ,they find pearls on their  
coasts1 and  diamonds and carbuncles on 
their rocks2 they do not look after     
them1  but1 if they find them by chance1
 they polish them1 and with them they   
adorn their children1 who are delighted 
with them1 and glory in them  during    
their childhood2 but when they grow to  
years1 and see that none  but children  
use such baubles1 they of their own     
accord1 without being  bid by their     
parents1 lay them aside1 and would be as
 much ashamed to  use them afterwards as
 children among us1 when they come to   
years1 are  of their puppets and other  
toys4    8,i never saw a clearer        
instance of the opposite impressions    
that  different customs make on people  
than ,i observed in the ambassadors of  
the ,anemolians1 who came to ,amaurot   
when ,i was there4 ,as they came to     

treat of affairs of great consequence1  
the deputies from several towns  met    
together to wait for their coming4 ,the 
ambassadors of the nations  that lie    
near ,utopia1 knowing their customs1 and
 that fine clothes are  in no esteem    
among them1 that silk is despised1 and  
gold is a badge of  infamy1 used to come
 very modestly clothed2 but the         
,anemolians1 lying  more remote1 and    
having had little commerce with them1   
understanding  that they were coarsely  
clothed1 and all in the same manner1    
took it  for granted that they had none 
of those fine things among them of which
  they made no use2 and they1 being a   
vainglorious rather than a wise  people1
 resolved to set themselves out with so 
much pomp that they  should look like   
gods1 and strike the eyes of the poor   
,utopians with  their splendour4 ,thus  
three ambassadors made their entry with 
a hundred  attendants1 all clad in      
garments of different colours1 and the  
greater  part in silk2 the ambassadors  

themselves1 who were of the nobility of 
their country1 were in cloth-of-gold1   
and adorned with massy chains1  earrings
 and rings of gold2 their caps were     
covered with bracelets set  full of     
pearls and other gems--in a word1 they  
were set out with all  those things that
 among the ,utopians were either the    
badges of slavery1  the marks of infamy1
 or the playthings of children4 ,it was 
not  unpleasant to see1 on the one side1
 how they looked big1 when they         
compared their rich habits with the     
plain clothes of the ,utopians1 who     
were come out in great numbers to see   
them make their entry2 and1 on  the     
other1 to observe how much they were    
mistaken in the impression  which they  
hoped this pomp would have made on them4
 ,it appeared so  ridiculous a show to  
all that had never stirred out of their 
country1  and had not seen the customs  
of other nations1 that though they paid 
some reverence to those that were the   
most meanly clad1 as if they had  been  

the ambassadors1 yet when they saw the  
ambassadors themselves so  full of gold 
and chains1 they looked upon them as    
slaves1 and forbore  to treat them with 
reverence4 ,you might have seen the     
children who were  grown big enough to  
despise their playthings1 and who had   
thrown away  their jewels1 call to their
 mothers1 push them gently1 and cry out1
  #8,see that great fool1 that wears    
pearls and gems as if he were yet a     
child6' while their mothers very        
innocently replied1 #8,hold your peace6 
this1 ,i believe1 is one of the         
ambassadors' fools4' ,others censured   
the  fashion of their chains1 and       
observed1 #8,that they were of no use1  
for  they were too slight to bind their 
slaves1 who could easily break them2    
and1 besides1 hung so loose about them  
that they thought it easy to  throw     
their away1 and so get from them40 ,but 
after the ambassadors had  stayed a day 
among them1 and saw so vast a quantity  
of gold in their  houses 7which was as  

much despised by them as it was esteemed
 in other  nations71 and beheld more    
gold and silver in the chains and       
fetters of  one slave than all their    
ornaments amounted to1 their plumes     
fell1 and  they were ashamed of all that
 glory for which they had formed valued 
themselves1 and accordingly laid it     
aside--a resolution that they           
immediately took when1 on their engaging
 in some free discourse with  the       
,utopians1 they discovered their sense  
of such things and their  other customs4
 ,the ,utopians wonder how any man      
should be so much taken  with the       
glaring doubtful lustre of a jewel or a 
stone1 that can look  up to a star or to
 the sun himself2 or how any should     
value himself  because his cloth is made
 of a finer thread2 for1 how fine soever
 that  thread may be1 it was once no    
better than the fleece of a sheep1 and  
that sheep1 was a sheep still1 for all  
its wearing it4 ,they wonder much  to   
hear that gold1 which in itself is so   

useless a thing1 should be  everywhere  
so much esteemed that even man1 for whom
 it was made1 and by  whom it has its   
value1 should yet be thought of less    
value than this  metal2 that a man of   
lead1 who has no more sense than a log  
of wood1  and is as bad as he is        
foolish1 should have many wise and good 
men to  serve him1 only because he has a
 great heap of that metal2 and that if  
it should happen that by some accident  
or trick of law 7which1  sometimes      
produces as great changes as chance     
itself7 all this wealth  should pass    
from the master to the meanest varlet of
 his whole family1  he himself would    
very soon become one of his servants1 as
 if he were a  thing that belonged to   
his wealth1 and so were bound to follow 
its  fortune6 ,but they much more admire
 and detest the folly of those who1     
when they see a rich man1 though they   
neither owe him anything1 nor are  in   
any sort dependent on his bounty1 yet1  
merely because he is rich1  give him    

little less than divine honours1 even   
though they know him to  be so covetous 
and base-minded that1 notwithstanding   
all his wealth1 he  will not part with  
one farthing of it to them as long as he
 lives6    8,these and such like notions
 have that people imbibed1 partly from  
their education1 being bred in a country
 whose customs and laws are  opposite to
 all such foolish maxims1 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  7these being only such   
persons as discover from their childhood
 an  extraordinary capacity and         
disposition for letters71 yet their     
children  and a great part of the       
nation1 both men and women1 are taught  
to spend  those hours in which they are 
not obliged to work in reading2 and this
  they do through the whole progress of 
life4 ,they have all their  learning in 
their own tongue1 which is both a       

copious and pleasant  language1 and in  
which a man can fully express his mind2 
it runs over a  great tract of many     
countries1 but it is not equally pure in
 all  places4 ,they had never so much as
 heard of the names of any of those     
philosophers that are so famous in these
 parts of the world1 before we  went    
among them2 and yet they had made the   
same discoveries as the  ,greeks1 both  
in music1 logic1 arithmetic1 and        
geometry4 ,but as they are  almost in   
everything equal to the ancient         
philosophers1 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 us4 ,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 7so that
 though we spoke of  him as a thing that

 we could point at with our fingers1 yet
 none of  them could perceive him7 and  
yet distinct from every one1 as if he   
were  some monstrous ,colossus or giant2
 yet1 for all this ignorance of these   
empty notions1 they knew astronomy1 and 
were perfectly acquainted with  the     
motions of the heavenly bodies2 and have
 many instruments1 well  contrived and  
divided1 by which they very accurately  
compute the course  and positions of the
 sun1 moon1 and stars4 ,but for the     
cheat of  divining by the stars1 by     
their oppositions or conjunctions1 it   
has not  so much as entered into their  
thoughts4 ,they have a particular       
sagacity1 founded upon much observation1
 in judging of the weather1 by  which   
they know when they may look for rain1  
wind1 or other alterations  in the air2 
but as to the philosophy of these       
things1 the cause of the  saltness of   
the sea1 of its ebbing and flowing1 and 
of the original and  nature both of the 
heavens and the earth1 they dispute of  

them partly  as our ancient philosophers
 have done1 and partly upon some new    
hypothesis1 in which1 as they differ    
from them1 so they do not in all  things
 agree among themselves4    8,as to     
moral philosophy1 they have the same    
disputes among them as we  have here4   
,they examine what are properly good1   
both for the body and  the mind2 and    
whether any outward thing can be called 
truly good1 or  if that term belong only
 to the endowments of the soul4 ,they   
inquire1  likewise1 into the nature of  
virtue and pleasure4 ,but their chief   
dispute is concerning the happiness of a
 man1 and wherein it  consists--whether 
in some one thing or in a great many4   
,they seem1  indeed1 more inclinable to 
that opinion that places1 if not the    
whole1  yet the chief part1 of a man's  
happiness in pleasure2 and1 what may    
seem more strange1 they make use of     
arguments even from religion1           
notwithstanding its severity and        
roughness1 for the support of that      

opinion so indulgent to pleasure2 for   
they never dispute concerning  happiness
 without fetching some arguments from   
the principles of  religion as well as  
from natural reason1 since without the  
former they  reckon that all our        
inquiries after happiness must be but   
conjectural  and defective4    8,these  
are their religious principles3--,that  
the soul of man is  immortal1 and that  
,god of ,his goodness has designed that 
it should be  happy2 and that ,he has1  
therefore1 appointed rewards for good   
and  virtuous actions1 and punishments  
for vice1 to be distributed after  this 
life4 ,though these principles of       
religion are conveyed down among  them  
by tradition1 they think that even      
reason itself determines a man  to      
believe and acknowledge them2 and freely
 confess that if these were  taken away1
 no man would be so insensible as not to
 seek after pleasure  by all possible   
means1 lawful or unlawful1 using only   
this caution--that  a lesser pleasure   

might not stand in the way of a greater1
 and that no  pleasure ought to be      
pursued that should draw a great deal of
 pain  after it2 for they think it the  
maddest thing in the world to pursue    
virtue1 that is a sour and difficult    
thing1 and not only to renounce  the    
pleasures of life1 but willingly to     
undergo much pain and trouble1  if a man
 has no prospect of a reward4 ,and what 
reward can there be for  one that has   
passed his whole life1 not only without 
pleasure1 but in  pain1 if there is     
nothing to be expected after death8 ,yet
 they do not  place happiness in all    
sorts of pleasures1 but only in those   
that in  themselves are good and honest4
 ,there is a party among them who place 
happiness in bare virtue2 others think  
that our natures are conducted  by      
virtue to happiness1 as that which is   
the chief good of man4 ,they  define    
virtue thus--that it is a living        
according to ,nature1 and think  that we
 are made by ,god for that end2 they    

believe that a man then  follows the    
dictates of ,nature when he pursues or  
avoids things  according to the         
direction of reason4 ,they say that the 
first dictate  of reason is the kindling
 in us a love and reverence for the     
,divine  ,majesty1 to whom we owe both  
all that we have and1 all that we can   
ever  hope for4 ,in the next place1     
reason directs us to keep our minds as  
free from passion and as cheerful as we 
can1 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  persons2 for    
there never was any man such a morose   
and severe pursuer  of virtue1 such an  
enemy to pleasure1 that though he set   
hard rules for  men to undergo1 much    
pain1 many watchings1 and other rigors1 
yet did  not at the same time advise    
them to do all they could in order to   
relieve and ease the miserable1 and who 
did not represent gentleness  and       

good-nature as amiable dispositions4    
,and from thence they infer  that if a  
man ought to advance the welfare and    
comfort of the rest of  mankind 7there  
being no virtue more proper and peculiar
 to our nature  than to ease the        
miseries of others1 to free from trouble
 and anxiety1  in furnishing them with  
the comforts of life1 in which pleasure 
consists7 ,nature much more vigorously  
leads them to do all this for  himself4 
,a life of pleasure is either a real    
evil1 and in that case we  ought not to 
assist others in their pursuit of it1   
but1 on the  contrary1 to keep them from
 it all we can1 as from that which is   
most  hurtful and deadly2 or if it is a 
good thing1 so that we not only may  but
 ought to help others to it1 why1 then1 
ought not a man to begin  with himself8 
since no man can be more bound to look  
after the good of  another than after   
his own2 for ,nature cannot direct us to
 be good and  kind to others1 and yet at
 the same time to be unmerciful and     

cruel to  ourselves4 ,thus as they      
define virtue to be living according to 
,nature1  so they imagine that ,nature  
prompts all people on to seek after     
pleasure as the end of all they do4     
,they also observe that in order to  our
 supporting the pleasures of life1      
,nature inclines us to enter into       
society2 for there is no man so much    
raised above the rest of mankind  as to 
be the only favourite of ,nature1 who1  
on the contrary1 seems to  have placed  
on a level all those that belong to the 
same species4 ,upon  this they infer    
that no man ought to seek his own       
conveniences so  eagerly as to prejudice
 others2 and therefore they think that  
not only  all agreements between private
 persons ought to be observed1 but      
likewise that all those laws ought to be
 kept which either a good  prince has   
published in due form1 or to which a    
people that is neither  oppressed with  
tyranny nor circumvented by fraud has   
consented1 for  distributing those      

conveniences of life which afford us all
 our  pleasures4    8,they think it is  
an evidence of true wisdom for a man to 
pursue his  own advantage as far as the 
laws allow it1 they account it piety to 
prefer the public good to one's private 
concerns1 but they think it  unjust for 
a man to seek for pleasure by snatching 
another man's  pleasures from him2 and1 
on the contrary1 they think it a sign of
 a  gentle and good soul for a man to   
dispense with his own advantage for  the
 good of others1 and that by this means 
a good man finds as much  pleasure one  
way as he parts with another2 for as he 
may expect the  like from others when he
 may come to need it1 so1 if that should
 fail  him1 yet the sense of a good     
action1 and the reflections that he     
makes  on the love and gratitude of     
those whom he has so obliged1 gives the 
mind more pleasure than the body could  
have found in that from which it  had   
restrained itself4 ,they are also       
persuaded that ,god will make up  the   

loss of those small pleasures with a    
vast and endless joy1 of which  religion
 easily convinces a good soul4          
8,thus1 upon an inquiry into the whole  
matter1 they reckon that all our        
actions1 and even all our virtues1      
terminate in pleasure1 as in our  chief 
end and greatest happiness2 and they    
call every motion or state1  either of  
body or mind1 in which ,nature teaches  
us to delight1 a  pleasure4 ,thus they  
cautiously limit pleasure only to those 
appetites  to which ,nature leads us2   
for they say that ,nature leads us only 
to  those delights to which reason1 as  
well as sense1 carries us1 and by  which
 we neither injure any other person nor 
lose the possession of  greater         
pleasures1 and of such as draw no       
troubles after them4 ,but they  look    
upon those delights which men by a      
foolish1 though common1 mistake  call   
pleasure1 as if they could change as    
easily the nature of things  as the use 
of words1 as things that greatly        

obstruct their real  happiness1 instead 
of advancing it1 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 kind4    8,there are many things
 that in themselves have nothing that is
 truly  delightful2 on the contrary1    
they have a good deal of bitterness in  
them2 and yet1 from our perverse        
appetites after forbidden objects1 are  
not only ranked among the pleasures1 but
 are made even the greatest  designs1 of
 life4 ,among those who pursue these    
sophisticated pleasures  they reckon    
such as ,i mentioned before1 who think  
themselves really the  better for having
 fine clothes2 in which they think they 
are doubly  mistaken1 both in the       
opinion they have of their clothes1 and 
in that  they have of themselves4 ,for  
if you consider the use of clothes1 why 
should a fine thread be thought better  
than a coarse one8 ,and yet these  men1 

as if they had some real advantages     
beyond others1 and did not owe  them    
wholly to their mistakes1 look big1 seem
 to fancy themselves to be  more        
valuable1 and imagine that a respect is 
due to them for the sake  of a rich     
garment1 to which they would not have   
pretended if they had  been more meanly 
clothed1 and even resent it as an       
affront if that  respect is not paid    
them4 ,it is also a great folly to be   
taken with  outward marks of respect1   
which signify nothing2 for what true or 
real  pleasure can one man find in      
another's standing bare or making legs  
to  him8 ,will the bending another man's
 knees give ease to yours8 and will  the
 head's being bare cure the madness of  
yours8 ,and yet it is  wonderful to see 
how this false notion of pleasure       
bewitches many who  delight themselves  
with the fancy of their nobility1 and   
are pleased  with this conceit--that    
they are descended from ancestors who   
have been  held for some successions    

rich1 and who have had great            
possessions2 for  this is all that makes
 nobility at present4 ,yet they do not  
think  themselves a whit the less noble1
 though their immediate parents have    
left none of this wealth to them1 or    
though they themselves have  squandered 
it away4 ,the ,utopians have no better  
opinion of those who  are much taken    
with gems and precious stones1 and who  
account it a  degree of happiness next  
to a divine one if they can purchase one
 that  is very extraordinary1 especially
 if it be of that sort of stones that   
is then in greatest request1 for the    
same sort is not at all times           
universally of the same value1 nor will 
men buy it unless it be  dismounted and 
taken out of the gold4 ,the jeweller is 
then made to give  good security1 and   
required solemnly to swear that the     
stone is true1  that1 by such an exact  
caution1 a false one might not be bought
 instead  of a true2 though1 if you were
 to examine it1 your eye could find no  

difference between the counterfeit and  
that which is true2 so that they  are   
all one to you1 as much as if you were  
blind4 ,or can it be thought  that they 
who heap up a useless mass of wealth1   
not for any use that it  is to bring    
them1 but merely to please themselves   
with the  contemplation of it1 enjoy any
 true pleasure in it8 ,the delight they 
find is only a false shadow of joy4     
,those are no better whose error is     
somewhat different from the former1 and 
who hide it out of their fear  of losing
 it2 for what other name can fit the    
hiding it in the earth1  or1 rather1 the
 restoring it to it again1 it being thus
 cut off from  being useful either to   
its owner or to the rest of mankind8    
,and yet the  owner1 having hid it      
carefully1 is glad1 because he thinks he
 is now  sure of it4 ,if it should be   
stole1 the owner1 though he might live  
perhaps ten years after the theft1 of   
which he knew nothing1 would find  no   
difference between his having or losing 

it1 for both ways it was  equally       
useless to him4    8,among those foolish
 pursuers of pleasure they reckon all   
that delight  in hunting1 in fowling1 or
 gaming1 of whose madness they have only
  heard1 for they have no such things   
among them4 ,but they have asked us1    
#8,what sort of pleasure is it that men 
can find in throwing the dice8'  7for if
 there were any pleasure in it1 they    
think the doing it so often  should give
 one a surfeit of it72 #8and what       
pleasure can one find in  hearing the   
barking and howling of dogs1 which seem 
rather odious than  pleasant sounds8'   
,nor can they comprehend the pleasure of
 seeing dogs  run after a hare1 more    
than of seeing one dog run after        
another2 for if  the seeing them run is 
that which gives the pleasure1 you have 
the same  entertainment to the eye on   
both these occasions1 since that is the 
same in both cases4 ,but if the pleasure
 lies in seeing the hare killed  and    
torn by the dogs1 this ought rather to  

stir pity1 that a weak1  harmless1 and  
fearful hare should be devoured by      
strong1 fierce1 and  cruel dogs4        
,therefore all this business of hunting 
is1 among the  ,utopians1 turned over to
 their butchers1 and those1 as has been 
already  said1 are all slaves1 and they 
look on hunting as one of the basest    
parts of a butcher's work1 for they     
account it both more profitable and     
more decent to kill those beasts that   
are more necessary and useful to        
mankind1 whereas the killing and tearing
 of so small and miserable an  animal   
can only attract the huntsman with a    
false show of pleasure1  from which he  
can reap but small advantage4 ,they look
 on the desire of  the bloodshed1 even  
of beasts1 as a mark of a mind that is  
already  corrupted with cruelty1 or that
 at least1 by too frequent returns of so
  brutal a pleasure1 must degenerate    
into it4    8,thus though the rabble of 
mankind look upon these1 and on         
innumerable  other things of the same   

nature1 as pleasures1 the ,utopians1 on 
the  contrary1 observing that there is  
nothing in them truly pleasant1         
conclude that they are not to be        
reckoned among pleasures2 for though    
these things may create some tickling in
 the senses 7which seems to be  a true  
notion of pleasure71 yet they imagine   
that this does not arise  from the thing
 itself1 but from a depraved custom1    
which may so vitiate  a man's taste that
 bitter things may pass for sweet1 as   
women with  child think pitch or tallow 
taste sweeter than honey2 but as a man's
  sense1 when corrupted either by a     
disease or some ill habit1 does not     
change the nature of other things1 so   
neither can it change the nature  of    
pleasure4    8,they reckon up several   
sorts of pleasures1 which they call true
 ones2  some belong to the body1 and    
others to the mind4 ,the pleasures of   
the  mind lie in knowledge1 and in that 
delight which the contemplation of      
truth carries with it2 to which they add

 the joyful reflections on a  well-spent
 life1 and the assured hopes of a future
 happiness4 ,they  divide the pleasures 
of the body into two sorts--the one is  
that which  gives our senses some real  
delight1 and is performed either by     
recruiting ,nature and supplying those  
parts which feed the internal  heat of  
life by eating and drinking1 or when    
,nature is eased of any  surcharge that 
oppresses it1 when we are relieved from 
sudden pain1 or  that which arises from 
satisfying the appetite which ,nature   
has wisely  given to lead us to the     
propagation of the species4 ,there is   
another  kind of pleasure that arises   
neither from our receiving what the body
  requires1 nor its being relieved when 
overcharged1 and yet1 by a secret       
unseen virtue1 affects the senses1      
raises the passions1 and strikes the    
mind with generous impressions--this is1
 the pleasure that arises from  music4  
,another kind of bodily pleasure is that
 which results from an  undisturbed and 

vigorous constitution of body1 when life
 and active  spirits seem to actuate    
every part4 ,this lively health1 when   
entirely  free from all mixture of pain1
 of itself gives an inward pleasure1    
independent of all external objects of  
delight2 and though this  pleasure does 
not so powerfully affect us1 nor act so 
strongly on the  senses as some of the  
others1 yet it may be esteemed as the   
greatest of  all pleasures2 and almost  
all the ,utopians reckon it the         
foundation and  basis of all the other  
joys of life1 since this alone makes the
 state  of life easy and desirable1 and 
when this is wanting1 a man is really   
capable of no other pleasure4 ,they look
 upon freedom from pain1 if it  does not
 rise from perfect health1 to be a state
 of stupidity rather  than of pleasure4 
,this subject has been very narrowly    
canvassed among  them1 and it has been  
debated whether a firm and entire health
 could be  called a pleasure or not4    
,some have thought that there was no    

pleasure  but what was #8excited' by    
some sensible motion in the body4 ,but  
this  opinion has been long ago excluded
 from among them2 so that now they      
almost universally agree that health is 
the greatest of all bodily  pleasures2  
and that as there is a pain in sickness 
which is as opposite  in its nature to  
pleasure as sickness itself is to       
health1 so they hold  that health is    
accompanied with pleasure4 ,and if any  
should say that  sickness is not really 
pain1 but that it only carries pain     
along with  it1 they look upon that as a
 fetch of subtlety that does not much   
alter  the matter4 ,it is all one1 in   
their opinion1 whether it be said that  
health is in itself a pleasure1 or that 
it begets a pleasure1 as fire  gives    
heat1 so it be granted that all those   
whose health is entire have  a true     
pleasure in the enjoyment of it4 ,and   
they reason thus3--#8,what is  the      
pleasure of eating1 but that a man's    
health1 which had been  weakened1 does1 

with the assistance of food1 drive away 
hunger1 and so  recruiting itself1      
recovers its former vigour8 ,and being  
thus refreshed  it finds a pleasure in  
that conflict2 and if the conflict is   
pleasure1  the victory must yet breed a 
greater pleasure1 except we fancy that  
it  becomes stupid as soon as it has    
obtained that which it pursued1 and so  
neither knows nor rejoices in its own   
welfare4' ,if it is said that  health   
cannot be felt1 they absolutely deny it2
 for what man is in  health1 that does  
not perceive it when he is awake8 ,is   
there any man  that is so dull and      
stupid as not to acknowledge that he    
feels a  delight in health8 ,and what is
 delight but another name for pleasure8 
8,but1 of all pleasures1 they esteem    
those to be most valuable that lie  in  
the mind1 the chief of which arise out  
of true virtue and the  witness of a    
good conscience4 ,they account health   
the chief pleasure  that belongs to the 
body2 for they think that the pleasure  

of eating  and drinking1 and all the    
other delights of sense1 are only so far
  desirable as they give or maintain    
health2 but they are not pleasant in    
themselves otherwise than as they resist
 those impressions that our  natural    
infirmities are still making upon us4   
,for as a wise man desires  rather to   
avoid diseases than to take physic1 and 
to be freed from pain  rather than to   
find ease by remedies1 so it is more    
desirable not to  need this sort of     
pleasure than to be obliged to indulge  
it4 ,if any man  imagines that there is 
a real happiness in these enjoyments1 he
 must  then confess that he would be the
 happiest of all men if he were to  lead
 his life in perpetual hunger1 thirst1  
and itching1 and1 by  consequence1 in   
perpetual eating1 drinking1 and         
scratching himself2  which any one may  
easily see would be not only a base1 but
 a miserable1  state of a life4 ,these  
are1 indeed1 the lowest of pleasures1   
and the  least pure1 for we can never   

relish them but when they are mixed with
  the contrary pains4 ,the pain of      
hunger must give us the pleasure of     
eating1 and here the pain out-balances  
the pleasure4 ,and as the pain is  more 
vehement1 so it lasts much longer2 for  
as it begins before the  pleasure1 so it
 does not cease but with the pleasure   
that extinguishes  it1 and both expire  
together4 ,they think1 therefore1 none  
of those  pleasures are to be valued any
 further than as they are necessary2 yet
  they rejoice in them1 and with due    
gratitude acknowledge the tenderness  of
 the great ,author of ,nature1 who has  
planted in us appetites1 by  which those
 things that are necessary for our      
preservation are likewise  made pleasant
 to us4 ,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 us6 ,and thus these pleasant1 as   
well as proper1 gifts of ,nature        

maintain the strength and the           
sprightliness of our bodies4    8,they  
also entertain themselves with the other
 delights let in at their  eyes1 their  
ears1 and their nostrils as the pleasant
 relishes and  seasoning of life1 which 
,nature seems to have marked out        
peculiarly for  man1 since no other sort
 of animals contemplates the figure and 
beauty  of the universe1 nor is         
delighted with smells any further than  
as they  distinguish meats by them2 nor 
do they apprehend the concords or       
discords of sound4 ,yet1 in all         
pleasures whatsoever1 they take care    
that a lesser joy does not hinder a     
greater1 and that pleasure may  never   
breed pain1 which they think always     
follows dishonest pleasures4  ,but they 
think it madness for a man to wear out  
the beauty of his face  or the force of 
his natural strength1 to corrupt the    
sprightliness of  his body by sloth and 
laziness1 or to waste it by fasting2    
that it is  madness to weaken the       

strength of his constitution and reject 
the other  delights of life1 unless by  
renouncing his own satisfaction he can  
either serve the public or promote the  
happiness of others1 for which  he      
expects a greater recompense from ,god4 
,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 ,nature1 as if we would not  
be beholden to  ,him for ,his favours1  
and therefore rejects all ,his          
blessings2 as one  who should afflict   
himself for the empty shadow of virtue1 
or for no  better end than to render    
himself capable of bearing those        
misfortunes  which possibly will never  
happen4    8,this is their notion of    
virtue and of pleasure3 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 notions4 ,i have  not now
 the leisure to examine whether they    
think right or wrong in  this matter2   

nor do ,i judge it necessary1 for ,i    
have only undertaken to  give you an    
account of their constitution1 but not  
to defend all their  principles4 ,i am  
sure that whatever may be said of their 
notions1 there  is not in the whole     
world either a better people or a       
happier  government4 ,their bodies are  
vigorous and lively2 and though they are
  but of a middle stature1 and have     
neither the fruitfullest soil nor the   
purest air in the world2 yet they       
fortify themselves so well1 by their    
temperate course of life1 against the   
unhealthiness of their air1 and  by     
their industry they so cultivate their  
soil1 that there is nowhere  to be seen 
a greater increase1 both of corn and    
cattle1 nor are there  anywhere         
healthier men and freer from diseases2  
for one may there see  reduced to       
practice not only all the art that the  
husbandman employs in  manuring and     
improving an ill soil1 but whole woods  
plucked up by the  roots1 and in other  

places new ones planted1 where there    
were none  before4 ,their principal     
motive for this is the convenience of   
carriage1  that their timber may be     
either near their towns or growing on   
the  banks of the sea1 or of some       
rivers1 so as to be floated to them2 for
  it is a harder work to carry wood at  
any distance over land than corn4  ,the 
people are industrious1 apt to learn1 as
 well as cheerful and  pleasant1 and    
none can endure more labour when it is  
necessary2 but1  except in that case1   
they love their ease4 ,they are         
unwearied pursuers  of knowledge2 for   
when we had given them some hints of the
 learning and  discipline of the        
,greeks1 concerning whom we only        
instructed them 7for  we know that there
 was nothing among the ,romans1 except  
their  historians and their poets1 that 
they would value much71 it was strange  
to see how eagerly they were set on     
learning that language3 we began to     
read a little of it to them1 rather in  

compliance with their  importunity than 
out of any hopes of their reaping from  
it any great  advantage3 but1 after a   
very short trial1 we found they made    
such  progress1 that we saw our labour  
was like to be more successful than we  
could have expected3 they learned to    
write their characters and to  pronounce
 their language so exactly1 had so quick
 an apprehension1 they  remembered it so
 faithfully1 and became so ready and    
correct in the use  of it1 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          
instruction3 they were1 for the greatest
 part1  chosen from among their learned 
men by their chief council1 though some 
studied it of their own accord4 ,in     
three years' time they became  masters  
of the whole language1 so that they read
 the best of the ,greek  authors very   
exactly4 ,i am1 indeed1 apt to think    
that they learned that  language the    

more easily from its having some        
relation to their own4 ,i  believe that 
they were a colony of the ,greeks2 for  
though their  language comes nearer the 
,persian1 yet they retain many names1   
both for  their towns and magistrates1  
that are of ,greek derivation4 ,i       
happened  to carry a great many books   
with me1 instead of merchandise1 when ,i
  sailed my fourth voyage2 for ,i was so
 far from thinking of soon coming  back1
 that ,i rather thought never to have   
returned at all1 and ,i gave  them all  
my books1 among which were many of      
,plato's and some of  ,aristotle's      
works3 ,i had also ,theophrastus on     
,plants1 which1 to my  great regret1 was
 imperfect2 for having laid it          
carelessly by1 while we  were at sea1 a 
monkey had seized upon it1 and in many  
places torn out  the leaves4 ,they have 
no books of grammar but ,lascares1 for  
,i did not  carry ,theodorus with me2   
nor have they any dictionaries but      
,hesichius  and ,dioscerides4 ,they     

esteem ,plutarch highly1 and were much  
taken with  ,lucian's wit and with his  
pleasant way of writing4 ,as for the    
poets1  they have ,aristophanes1 ,homer1
 ,euripides1 and ,sophocles of ,aldus's 
edition2 and for historians1            
,thucydides1 ,herodotus1 and ,herodian4 
,one  of my companions1 ,thricius       
,apinatus1 happened to carry with him   
some of  ,hippocrates's works and       
,galen's ,microtechne1 which they hold  
in great  estimation2 for though there  
is no nation in the world that needs    
physic so little as they do1 yet there  
is not any that honours it so  much2    
they reckon the knowledge of it one of  
the pleasantest and most  profitable    
parts of philosophy1 by which1 as they  
search into the  secrets of nature1 so  
they not only find this study highly    
agreeable1  but think that such         
inquiries are very acceptable to the    
,author of  nature2 and imagine1 that as
 ,he1 like the inventors of curious     
engines  amongst mankind1 has exposed   

this great machine of the universe to   
the  view of the only creatures capable 
of contemplating it1 so an exact and    
curious observer1 who admires ,his      
workmanship1 is much more acceptable  to
 ,him than one of the herd1 who1 like a 
beast incapable of reason1  looks on    
this glorious scene with the eyes of a  
dull and unconcerned  spectator4        
8,the minds of the ,utopians1 when      
fenced with a love for learning1 are    
very ingenious in discovering all such  
arts as are necessary to carry  it to   
perfection4 ,two things they owe to us1 
the manufacture of paper  and the art of
 printing2 yet they are not so entirely 
indebted to us  for these discoveries   
but that a great part of the invention  
was their  own4 ,we showed them some    
books printed by ,aldus1 we explained to
 them  the way of making paper and the  
mystery of printing2 but1 as we had     
never practised these arts1 we described
 them in a crude and  superficial       
manner4 ,they seized the hints we gave  

them2 and though at  first they could   
not arrive at perfection1 yet by making 
many essays  they at last found out and 
corrected all their errors and conquered
  every difficulty4 ,before this they   
only wrote on parchment1 on reeds1  or  
on the barks of trees2 but now they have
 established the  manufactures of paper 
and set up printing presses1 so that1 if
 they had  but a good number of ,greek  
authors1 they would be quickly supplied 
with  many copies of them3 at present1  
though they have no more than those ,i  
have mentioned1 yet1 by several         
impressions1 they have multiplied them  
into many thousands4 ,if any man was to 
go among them that had some             
extraordinary talent1 or that by much   
travelling had observed the  customs of 
many nations 7which made us to be so    
well received71 he  would receive a     
hearty welcome1 for they are very       
desirous to know the  state of the whole
 world4 ,very few go among them on the  
account of  traffic2 for what can a man 

carry to them but iron1 or gold1 or     
silver8  which merchants desire rather  
to export than import to a strange      
country3 and as for their exportation1  
they think it better to manage  that    
themselves than to leave it to          
foreigners1 for by this means1 as  they 
understand the state of the neighbouring
 countries better1 so they  keep up the 
art of navigation which cannot be       
maintained but by much  practice4       
,,of ,,their ,,slaves1 ,,and ,,of       
,,their ,,marriages      8,they do not  
make slaves of prisoners of war1 except 
those that are  taken in battle1 nor of 
the sons of their slaves1 nor of those  
of other  nations3 the slaves among them
 are only such as are condemned to that 
state of life for the commission of some
 crime1 or1 which is more  common1 such 
as their merchants find condemned to die
 in those parts to  which they trade1   
whom they sometimes redeem at low rates1
 and in other  places have them for     
nothing4 ,they are kept at perpetual    

labour1 and  are always chained1 but    
with this difference1 that their own    
natives  are treated much worse than    
others3 they are considered as more     
profligate than the rest1 and since they
 could not be restrained by the         
advantages of so excellent an education1
 are judged worthy of harder  usage4    
,another sort of slaves are the poor of 
the neighbouring  countries1 who offer  
of their own accord to come and serve   
them3 they  treat these better1 and use 
them in all other respects as well as   
their  own countrymen1 except their     
imposing more labour upon them1 which is
  no hard task to those that have been  
accustomed to it2 and if any of  these  
have a mind to go back to their own     
country1 which1 indeed1 falls  out but  
seldom1 as they do not force them to    
stay1 so they do not send  them away    
empty-handed4    8,i have already told  
you with what care they look after their
 sick1 so  that nothing is left undone  
that can contribute either to their ease

 or  health2 and for those who are taken
 with fixed and incurable diseases1     
they use all possible ways to cherish   
them and to make their lives as         
comfortable as possible4 ,they visit    
them often and take great pains to  make
 their time pass off easily2 but when   
any is taken with a torturing  and      
lingering pain1 so that there is no hope
 either of recovery or  ease1 the       
priests and magistrates come and exhort 
them1 that1 since  they are now unable  
to go on with the business of life1 are 
become a  burden to themselves and to   
all about them1 and they have really    
out-lived themselves1 they should no    
longer nourish such a rooted  distemper1
 but choose rather to die since they    
cannot live but in much  misery2 being  
assured that if they thus deliver       
themselves from  torture1 or are willing
 that others should do it1 they shall be
 happy  after death3 since1 by their    
acting thus1 they lose none of the      
pleasures1 but only the troubles of     

life1 they think they behave not  only  
reasonably but in a manner consistent   
with religion and piety2  because they  
follow the advice given them by their   
priests1 who are the  expounders of the 
will of ,god4 ,such as are wrought on by
 these  persuasions either starve       
themselves of their own accord1 or take 
opium1 and by that means die without    
pain4 ,but no man is forced on this  way
 of ending his life2 and if they cannot 
be persuaded to it1 this  does not      
induce them to fail in their attendance 
and care of them3 but  as they believe  
that a voluntary death1 when it is      
chosen upon such an  authority1 is very 
honourable1 so if any man takes away his
 own life  without the approbation of   
the priests and the senate1 they give   
him  none of the honours of a decent    
funeral1 but throw his body into a      
ditch4    8,their women are not married 
before eighteen nor their men before    
two-and-twenty1 and if any of them run  
into forbidden embraces before  marriage

 they are severely punished1 and the    
privilege of marriage is  denied them   
unless they can obtain a special warrant
 from the ,prince4  ,such disorders cast
 a great reproach upon the master and   
mistress of  the family in which they   
happen1 for it is supposed that they    
have  failed in their duty4 ,the reason 
of punishing this so severely is1       
because they think that if they were not
 strictly restrained from all  vagrant  
appetites1 very few would engage in a   
state in which they  venture the quiet  
of their whole lives1 by being confined 
to one  person1 and are obliged to      
endure all the inconveniences with which
 it  is accompanied4 ,in choosing their 
wives they use a method that would      
appear to us very absurd and ridiculous1
 but it is constantly observed  among   
them1 and is accounted perfectly        
consistent with wisdom4 ,before         
marriage some grave matron presents the 
bride1 naked1 whether she is a  virgin  
or a widow1 to the bridegroom1 and after

 that some grave man  presents the      
bridegroom1 naked1 to the bride4 ,we1   
indeed1 both laughed  at this1 and      
condemned it as very indecent4 ,but     
they1 on the other  hand1 wondered at   
the folly of the men of all other       
nations1 who1 if  they are but to buy a 
horse of a small value1 are so cautious 
that they  will see every part of him1  
and take off both his saddle and all his
  other tackle1 that there may be no    
secret ulcer hid under any of them1  and
 that yet in the choice of a wife1 on   
which depends the happiness or          
unhappiness of the rest of his life1 a  
man should venture upon trust1  and only
 see about a handsbreadth of the face1  
all the rest of the body  being covered1
 under which may lie hid what may be    
contagious as well  as loathsome4 ,all  
men are not so wise as to choose a woman
 only for her  good qualities1 and even 
wise men consider the body as that which
 adds  not a little to the mind1 and it 
is certain there may be some such       

deformity covered with clothes as may   
totally alienate a man from his  wife1  
when it is too late to part with her2 if
 such a thing is  discovered after      
marriage a man has no remedy but        
patience2 they1  therefore1 think it is 
reasonable that there should be good    
provision  made against such mischievous
 frauds4    8,there was so much the more
 reason for them to make a regulation in
  this matter1 because they are the only
 people of those parts that  neither    
allow of polygamy nor of divorces1      
except in the case of  adultery or      
insufferable perverseness1 for in these 
cases the ,senate  dissolves the        
marriage and grants the injured person  
leave to marry  again2 but the guilty   
are made infamous and are never allowed 
the  privilege of a second marriage4    
,none are suffered to put away their    
wives against their wills1 from any     
great calamity that may have fallen  on 
their persons1 for they look on it as   
the height of cruelty and  treachery to 

abandon either of the married persons   
when they need most  the tender care of 
their consort1 and that chiefly in the  
case of old  age1 which1 as it carries  
many diseases along with it1 so it is a 
disease of itself4 ,but it frequently   
falls out that when a married  couple do
 not well agree1 they1 by mutual        
consent1 separate1 and find  out other  
persons with whom they hope they may    
live more happily2 yet  this is not done
 without obtaining leave of the ,senate1
 which never  admits of a divorce but   
upon a strict inquiry made1 both by the 
senators and their wives1 into the      
grounds upon which it is desired1  and  
even when they are satisfied concerning 
the reasons of it they go  on but       
slowly1 for they imagine that too great 
easiness in granting  leave for new     
marriages would very much shake the     
kindness of married  people4 ,they      
punish severely those that defile the   
marriage bed2 if  both parties are      
married they are divorced1 and the      

injured persons may  marry one another1 
or whom they please1 but the adulterer  
and the  adulteress are condemned to    
slavery1 yet if either of the injured   
persons cannot shake off the love of the
 married person they may live  with them
 still in that state1 but they must     
follow them to that labour  to which the
 slaves are condemned1 and sometimes the
 repentance of the  condemned1 together 
with the unshaken kindness of the       
innocent and  injured person1 has       
prevailed so far with the ,prince that  
he has taken  off the sentence2 but     
those that relapse after they are once  
pardoned  are punished with death4      
8,their law does not determine the      
punishment for other crimes1 but that   
is left to the ,senate1 to temper it    
according to the circumstances of  the  
fact4 ,husbands have power to correct   
their wives and parents to  chastise    
their children1 unless the fault is so  
great that a public  punishment is      
thought necessary for striking terror   

into others4 ,for  the most part slavery
 is the punishment even of the greatest 
crimes1  for as that is no less terrible
 to the criminals themselves than death1
  so they think the preserving them in a
 state of servitude is more for  the    
interest of the commonwealth than       
killing them1 since1 as their  labour is
 a greater benefit to the public than   
their death could be1 so  the sight of  
their misery is a more lasting terror to
 other men than  that which would be    
given by their death4 ,if their slaves  
rebel1 and  will not bear their yoke and
 submit to the labour that is enjoined  
them1 they are treated as wild beasts   
that cannot be kept in order1  neither  
by a prison nor by their chains1 and are
 at last put to death4  ,but those who  
bear their punishment patiently1 and are
 so much wrought  on by that pressure   
that lies so hard on them1 that it      
appears they are  really more troubled  
for the crimes they have committed than 
for the  miseries they suffer1 are not  

out of hope1 but that1 at last1 either  
the ,prince will1 by his prerogative1 or
 the people1 by their  intercession1    
restore them again to their liberty1 or1
 at least1 very  much mitigate their    
slavery4 ,he that tempts a married woman
 to adultery  is no less severely       
punished than he that commits it1 for   
they believe  that a deliberate design  
to commit a crime is equal to the fact  
itself1  since its not taking effect    
does not make the person that miscarried
 in  his attempt at all the less guilty4
    8,they take great pleasure in fools1
 and as it is thought a base and        
unbecoming thing to use them ill1 so    
they do not think it amiss for  people  
to divert themselves with their folly2  
and1 in their opinion1  this is a great 
advantage to the fools themselves2 for  
if men were so  sullen and severe as not
 at all to please themselves with their 
ridiculous behaviour and foolish        
sayings1 which is all that they can do  
to recommend themselves to others1 it   

could not be expected that they  would  
be so well provided for nor so tenderly 
used as they must  otherwise be4 ,if any
 man should reproach another for his    
being  misshaped or imperfect in any    
part of his body1 it would not at all be
  thought a reflection on the person so 
treated1 but it would be  accounted     
scandalous in him that had upbraided    
another with what he  could not help4   
,it is thought a sign of a sluggish and 
sordid mind not  to preserve carefully  
one's natural beauty2 but it is likewise
 infamous  among them to use paint4     
,they all see that no beauty recommends 
a wife  so much to her husband as the   
probity of her life and her obedience2  
for as some few are caught and held only
 by beauty1 so all are  attracted by the
 other excellences which charm all the  
world4    8,as they fright men from     
committing crimes by punishments1 so    
they  invite them to the love of virtue 
by public honours2 therefore they  erect
 statues to the memories of such worthy 

men as have deserved well  of their     
country1 and set these in their         
market-places1 both to  perpetuate the  
remembrance of their actions and to be  
an incitement to  their posterity to    
follow their example4    8,if any man   
aspires to any office he is sure never  
to compass it4 ,they  all live easily   
together1 for none of the magistrates   
are either  insolent or cruel to the    
people2 they affect rather to be called 
fathers1 and1 by being really so1 they  
well deserve the name2 and the  people  
pay them all the marks of honour the    
more freely because none  are exacted   
from them4 ,the ,prince himself has no  
distinction1 either of  garments or of a
 crown2 but is only distinguished by a  
sheaf of corn  carried before him2 as   
the ,high ,priest is also known by his  
being  preceded by a person carrying a  
wax light4    8,they have but few laws1 
and such is their constitution that they
 need  not many4 ,they very much condemn
 other nations whose laws1 together     

with the commentaries on them1 swell up 
to so many volumes2 for they  think it  
an unreasonable thing to oblige men to  
obey a body of laws  that are both of   
such a bulk1 and so dark as not to be   
read and  understood by every one of the
 subjects4    8,they have no lawyers    
among them1 for they consider them as a 
sort of  people whose profession it is  
to disguise matters and to wrest the    
laws1 and1 therefore1 they think it is  
much better that every man  should plead
 his own cause1 and trust it to the     
judge1 as in other  places the client   
trusts it to a counsellor2 by this means
 they both  cut off many delays and find
 out truth more certainly2 for after the
  parties have laid open the merits of  
the cause1 without those artifices      
which lawyers are apt to suggest1 the   
judge examines the whole matter1  and   
supports the simplicity of such         
well-meaning persons1 whom  otherwise   
crafty men would be sure to run down2   
and thus they avoid  those evils which  

appear very remarkably among all those  
nations that  labour under a vast load  
of laws4 ,every one of them is skilled  
in their  law2 for1 as it is a very     
short study1 so the plainest meaning of 
which  words are capable is always the  
sense of their laws2 and they argue     
thus3 all laws are promulgated for this 
end1 that every man may know  his duty2 
and1 therefore1 the plainest and most   
obvious sense of the  words is that     
which ought to be put upon them1 since a
 more refined  exposition cannot be     
easily comprehended1 and would only     
serve to make  the laws become useless  
to the greater part of mankind1 and     
especially  to those who need most the  
direction of them2 for it is all one not
 to  make a law at all or to couch it in
 such terms that1 without a quick       
apprehension and much study1 a man      
cannot find out the true meaning of  it1
 since the generality of mankind are    
both so dull1 and so much  employed in  
their several trades1 that they have    

neither the leisure  nor the capacity   
requisite for such an inquiry4    8,some
 of their neighbours1 who are masters of
 their own liberties  7having long ago1 
by the assistance of the ,utopians1     
shaken off the  yoke of tyranny1 and    
being much taken with those virtues     
which they  observe among them71 have   
come to desire that they would send     
magistrates to govern them1 some        
changing them every year1 and others    
every five years2 at the end of their   
government they bring them back  to     
,utopia1 with great expressions of      
honour and esteem1 and carry away       
others to govern in their stead4 ,in    
this they seem to have fallen upon  a   
very good expedient for their own       
happiness and safety2 for since the     
good or ill condition of a nation       
depends so much upon their  magistrates1
 they could not have made a better      
choice than by pitching  on men whom no 
advantages can bias2 for wealth is of no
 use to them1  since they must so soon  

go back to their own country1 and they1 
being  strangers among them1 are not    
engaged in any of their heats or        
animosities2 and it is certain that when
 public judicatories are  swayed1 either
 by avarice or partial affections1 there
 must follow a  dissolution of justice1 
the chief sinew of society4    8,the    
,utopians call those nations that come  
and ask magistrates from  them          
,neighbours2 but those to whom they have
 been of more particular  service1      
,friends2 and as all other nations are  
perpetually either  making leagues or   
breaking them1 they never enter into an 
alliance with  any state4 ,they think   
leagues are useless things1 and believe 
that if  the common ties of humanity do 
not knit men together1 the faith of     
promises will have no great effect2 and 
they are the more confirmed in  this by 
what they see among the nations round   
about them1 who are no  strict observers
 of leagues and treaties4 ,we know how  
religiously they  are observed in       

,europe1 more particularly where the    
,christian doctrine  is received1 among 
whom they are sacred and inviolable6    
which is partly  owing to the justice   
and goodness of the princes themselves1 
and partly  to the reverence they pay to
 the popes1 who1 as they are the most   
religious observers of their own        
promises1 so they exhort all other      
princes to perform theirs1 and1 when    
fainter methods do not prevail1  they   
compel them to it by the severity of the
 pastoral censure1 and  think that it   
would be the most indecent thing        
possible if men who are  particularly   
distinguished by the title of #8,the    
,faithful' should not  religiously keep 
the faith of their treaties4 ,but in    
that new-found  world1 which is not more
 distant from us in situation than the  
people  are in their manners and course 
of life1 there is no trusting to        
leagues1 even though they were made with
 all the pomp of the most  sacred       
ceremonies2 on the contrary1 they are on

 this account the sooner  broken1 some  
slight pretence being found in the words
 of the treaties1  which are purposely  
couched in such ambiguous terms that    
they can never  be so strictly bound but
 they will always find some loophole to 
escape  at1 and thus they break both    
their leagues and their faith2 and this 
is  done with such impudence1 that those
 very men who value themselves on       
having suggested these expedients to    
their princes would1 with a  haughty    
scorn1 declaim against such craft2 or1  
to speak plainer1 such  fraud and       
deceit1 if they found private men make  
use of it in their  bargains1 and would 
readily say that they deserved to be    
hanged4    8,by this means it is that   
all sort of justice passes in the world 
for a  low-spirited and vulgar virtue1  
far below the dignity of royal          
greatness--or at least there are set up 
two sorts of justice2 the one is  mean  
and creeps on the ground1 and1          
therefore1 becomes none but the  lower  

part of mankind1 and so must be kept in 
severely by many  restraints1 that it   
may not break out beyond the bounds that
 are set to  it2 the other is the       
peculiar virtue of princes1 which1 as it
 is more  majestic than that which      
becomes the rabble1 so takes a freer    
compass1  and thus lawful and unlawful  
are only measured by pleasure and       
interest4 ,these practices of the       
princes that lie about ,utopia1 who     
make so little account of their faith1  
seem to be the reasons that  determine  
them to engage in no confederacy4       
,perhaps they would change  their mind  
if they lived among us2 but yet1 though 
treaties were more  religiously         
observed1 they would still dislike the  
custom of making  them1 since the world 
has taken up a false maxim upon it1 as  
if there  were no tie of nature uniting 
one nation to another1 only separated   
perhaps by a mountain or a river1 and   
that all were born in a state of        
hostility1 and so might lawfully do all 

that mischief to their  neighbours      
against which there is no provision made
 by treaties2 and  that when treaties   
are made they do not cut off the enmity 
or restrain  the licence of preying upon
 each other1 if1 by the unskilfulness of
  wording them1 there are not effectual 
provisoes made against them2  they1 on  
the other hand1 judge that no man is to 
be esteemed our enemy  that has never   
injured us1 and that the partnership of 
human nature is  instead of a league2   
and that kindness and good nature unite 
men more  effectually and with greater  
strength than any agreements whatsoever1
  since thereby the engagements of men's
 hearts become stronger than the  bond  
and obligation of words4          ,,of  
,,their ,,military ,,discipline         
,they detest war as a very brutal thing1
 and which1 to the reproach of  human   
nature1 is more practised by men than by
 any sort of beasts4  ,they1 in         
opposition to the sentiments of almost  
all other nations1  think that there is 

nothing more inglorious than that glory 
that is  gained by war2 and therefore1  
though they accustom themselves daily to
  military exercises and the discipline 
of war1 in which not only their  men1   
but their women likewise1 are trained   
up1 that1 in cases of  necessity1 they  
may not be quite useless1 yet they do   
not rashly engage  in war1 unless it be 
either to defend themselves or their    
friends from  any unjust aggressors1 or1
 out of good nature or in compassion1   
assist  an oppressed nation in shaking  
off the yoke of tyranny4 ,they1 indeed1 
help their friends not only in defensive
 but also in offensive wars2  but they  
never do that unless they had been      
consulted before the breach  was made1  
and1 being satisfied with the grounds on
 which they went1  they had found that  
all demands of reparation were rejected1
 so that a  war was unavoidable4 ,this  
they think to be not only just when one 
neighbour makes an inroad on another by 
public order1 and carries away  the     

spoils1 but when the merchants of one   
country are oppressed in  another1      
either under pretence of some unjust    
laws1 or by the perverse  wresting of   
good ones4 ,this they count a juster    
cause of war than the  other1 because   
those injuries are done under some      
colour of laws4 ,this  was the only     
ground of that war in which they engaged
 with the  ,nephelogetes against the    
,aleopolitanes1 a little before our     
time2 for  the merchants of the former  
having1 as they thought1 met with great 
injustice among the latter1 which       
7whether it was in itself right or      
wrong7 drew on a terrible war1 in which 
many of their neighbours were  engaged2 
and their keenness in carrying it on    
being supported by their  strength in   
maintaining it1 it not only shook some  
very flourishing  states and very much  
afflicted others1 but1 after a series of
 much  mischief ended in the entire     
conquest and slavery of the             
,aleopolitanes1  who1 though before the 

war they were in all respects much      
superior to  the ,nephelogetes1 were yet
 subdued2 but1 though the ,utopians had 
assisted them in the war1 yet they      
pretended to no share of the spoil4     
8,but1 though they so vigorously assist 
their friends in obtaining  reparation  
for the injuries they have received in  
affairs of this  nature1 yet1 if any    
such frauds were committed against      
themselves1  provided no violence was   
done to their persons1 they would only1 
on  their being refused satisfaction1   
forbear trading with such a people4     
,this is not because they consider their
 neighbours more than their own         
citizens2 but1 since their neighbours   
trade every one upon his own  stock1    
fraud is a more sensible injury to them 
than it is to the  ,utopians1 among whom
 the public1 in such a case1 only       
suffers1 as they  expect no thing in    
return for the merchandise they export  
but that in  which they so much abound1 
and is of little use to them1 the loss  

does  not much affect them4 ,they think1
 therefore1 it would be too severe to   
revenge a loss attended with so little  
inconvenience1 either to their  lives or
 their subsistence1 with the death of   
many persons2 but if any  of their      
people are either killed or wounded     
wrongfully1 whether it be  done by      
public authority1 or only by private    
men1 as soon as they hear  of it they   
send ambassadors1 and demand that the   
guilty persons may be  delivered up to  
them1 and if that is denied1 they       
declare war2 but if  it be complied     
with1 the offenders are condemned either
 to death or  slavery4    8,they would  
be both troubled and ashamed of a bloody
 victory over their  enemies2 and think 
it would be as foolish a purchase as to 
buy the most  valuable goods at too high
 a rate4 ,and in no victory do they     
glory so  much as in that which is      
gained by dexterity and good conduct    
without  bloodshed4 ,in such cases they 
appoint public triumphs1 and erect      

trophies to the honour of those who have
 succeeded2 for then do they  reckon    
that a man acts suitably to his nature1 
when he conquers his  enemy in such a   
way as that no other creature but a man 
could be  capable of1 and that is by the
 strength of his understanding4 ,bears1 
lions1 boars1 wolves1 and dogs1 and all 
other animals1 employ their  bodily     
force one against another1 in which1 as 
many of them are  superior to men1 both 
in strength and fierceness1 so they are 
all  subdued by his reason and          
understanding4    8,the only design of  
the ,utopians in war is to obtain that  
by force  which1 if it had been granted 
them in time1 would have prevented the  
war2 or1 if that cannot be done1 to take
 so severe a revenge on those  that have
 injured them that they may be terrified
 from doing the like  for the time to   
come4 ,by these ends they measure all   
their designs1 and  manage them so1 that
 it is visible that the appetite of fame
 or  vainglory does not work so much on 

there as a just care of their own       
security4    8,as soon as they declare  
war1 they take care to have a great many
  schedules1 that are sealed with their 
common seal1 affixed in the most        
conspicuous places of their enemies'    
country4 ,this is carried secretly1  and
 done in many places all at once4 ,in   
these they promise great  rewards to    
such as shall kill the prince1 and      
lesser in proportion to  such as shall  
kill any other persons who are those on 
whom1 next to the  prince himself1 they 
cast the chief balance of the war4 ,and 
they double  the sum to him that1       
instead of killing the person so marked 
out1 shall  take him alive1 and put him 
in their hands4 ,they offer not only    
indemnity1 but rewards1 to such of the  
persons themselves that are so  marked1 
if they will act against their          
countrymen4 ,by this means those  that  
are named in their schedules become not 
only distrustful of their               
fellow-citizens1 but are jealous of one 

another1 and are much  distracted by    
fear and danger2 for it has often fallen
 out that many of  them1 and even the   
prince himself1 have been betrayed1 by  
those in whom  they have trusted most2  
for the rewards that the ,utopians offer
 are so  immeasurably great1 that there 
is no sort of crime to which men cannot 
be drawn by them4 ,they consider the    
risk that those run who undertake  such 
services1 and offer a recompense        
proportioned to the danger--not  only a 
vast deal of gold1 but great revenues in
 lands1 that lie among  other nations   
that are their friends1 where they may  
go and enjoy them  very securely2 and   
they observe the promises they make of  
their kind  most religiously4 ,they very
 much approve of this way of corrupting 
their enemies1 though it appears to     
others to be base and cruel2 but  they  
look on it as a wise course1 to make an 
end of what would be  otherwise a long  
war1 without so much as hazarding one   
battle to decide  it4 ,they think it    

likewise an act of mercy and love to    
mankind to  prevent the great slaughter 
of those that must otherwise be killed  
in  the progress of the war1 both on    
their own side and on that of their     
enemies1 by the death of a few that are 
most guilty2 and that in so  doing they 
are kind even to their enemies1 and pity
 them no less than  their own people1 as
 knowing that the greater part of them  
do not  engage in the war of their own  
accord1 but are driven into it by the   
passions of their prince4    8,if this  
method does not succeed with them1 then 
they sow seeds of  contention among     
their enemies1 and animate the prince's 
brother1 or  some of the nobility1 to   
aspire to the crown4 ,if they cannot    
disunite  them by domestic broils1 then 
they engage their neighbours against    
them1 and make them set on foot some old
 pretensions1 which are never  wanting  
to princes when they have occasion for  
them4 ,these they  plentifully supply   
with money1 though but very sparingly   

with any  auxiliary troops2 for they are
 so tender of their own people that they
  would not willingly exchange one of   
them1 even with the prince of their     
enemies' country4    8,but as they keep 
their gold and silver only for such an  
occasion1 so1  when that offers itself1 
they easily part with it2 since it would
 be no  convenience to them1 though they
 should reserve nothing of it to        
themselves4 ,for besides the wealth that
 they have among them at home1  they    
have a vast treasure abroad2 many       
nations round about them being  deep in 
their debt3 so that they hire soldiers  
from all places for  carrying on their  
wars2 but chiefly from the ,zapolets1   
who live five  hundred miles east of    
,utopia4 ,they are a rude1 wild1 and    
fierce nation1  who delight in the woods
 and rocks1 among which they were born  
and bred  up4 ,they are hardened both   
against heat1 cold1 and labour1 and know
  nothing of the delicacies of life4    
,they do not apply themselves to        

agriculture1 nor do they care either for
 their houses or their clothes3  cattle 
is all that they look after2 and for the
 greatest part they live  either by     
hunting or upon rapine2 and are made1 as
 it were1 only for  war4 ,they watch all
 opportunities of engaging in it1 and   
very readily  embrace such as are       
offered them4 ,great numbers of them    
will frequently  go out1 and offer      
themselves for a very low pay1 to serve 
any that will  employ them3 they know   
none of the arts of life1 but those that
 lead to  the taking it away2 they serve
 those that hire them1 both with much   
courage and great fidelity2 but will not
 engage to serve for any  determined    
time1 and agree upon such terms1 that   
the next day they may  go over to the   
enemies of those whom they serve if they
 offer them a  greater encouragement2   
and will1 perhaps1 return to them the   
day after  that upon a higher advance of
 their pay4 ,there are few wars in which
  they make not a considerable part of  

the armies of both sides3 so it  often  
falls out that they who are related1 and
 were hired in the same  country1 and so
 have lived long and familiarly         
together1 forgetting  both their        
relations and former friendship1 kill   
one another upon no  other consideration
 than that of being hired to it for a   
little money  by princes of different   
interests2 and such a regard have they  
for  money that they are easily wrought 
on by the difference of one penny a  day
 to change sides4 ,so entirely does     
their avarice influence them2 and  yet  
this money1 which they value so highly1 
is of little use to them2  for what they
 purchase thus with their blood they    
quickly waste on  luxury1 which among   
them is but of a poor and miserable     
form4    8,this nation serves the       
,utopians against all people whatsoever1
 for  they pay higher than any other4   
,the ,utopians hold this for a maxim1   
that as they seek out the best sort of  
men for their own use at home1  so they 

make use of this worst sort of men for  
the consumption of war2  and therefore  
they hire them with the offers of vast  
rewards to expose  themselves to all    
sorts of hazards1 out of which the      
greater part never  returns to claim    
their promises2 yet they make them good 
most  religiously to such as escape4    
,this animates them to adventure again1 
whenever there is occasion for it2 for  
the ,utopians are not at all  troubled  
how many of these happen to be killed1  
and reckon it a service  done to mankind
 if they could be a means to deliver the
 world from such  a lewd and vicious    
sort of people1 that seem to have run   
together1 as  to the drain of human     
nature4 ,next to these1 they are served 
in their  wars with those upon whose    
account they undertake them1 and with   
the  auxiliary troops of their other    
friends1 to whom they join a few of     
their own people1 and send some man of  
eminent and approved virtue to  command 
in chief4 ,there are two sent with him1 

who1 during his command1  are but       
private men1 but the first is to succeed
 him if he should  happen to be either  
killed or taken2 and1 in case of the    
like  misfortune to him1 the third comes
 in his place2 and thus they provide    
against all events1 that such accidents 
as may befall their generals  may not   
endanger their armies4 ,when they draw  
out troops of their own  people1 they   
take such out of every city as freely   
offer themselves1  for none are forced  
to go against their wills1 since they   
think that if  any man is pressed that  
wants courage1 he will not only act     
faintly1  but by his cowardice          
dishearten others4 ,but if an invasion  
is made on  their country1 they make use
 of such men1 if they have good bodies1 
though they are not brave2 and either   
put them aboard their ships1 or  place  
them on the walls of their towns1 that  
being so posted1 they may  find no      
opportunity of flying away2 and thus    
either shame1 the heat of  action1 or   

the impossibility of flying1 bears down 
their cowardice2  they often make a     
virtue of necessity1 and behave         
themselves well1  because nothing else  
is left them4 ,but as they force no man 
to go into  any foreign war against his 
will1 so they do not hinder those women 
who  are willing to go along with their 
husbands2 on the contrary1 they         
encourage and praise them1 and they     
stand often next their husbands in  the 
front of the army4 ,they also place     
together those who are related1         
parents1 and children1 kindred1 and     
those that are mutually allied1  near   
one another2 that those whom nature has 
inspired with the greatest  zeal for    
assisting one another may be the nearest
 and readiest to do  it2 and it is      
matter of great reproach if husband or  
wife survive one  another1 or if a child
 survives his parent1 and therefore when
 they  come to be engaged in action1    
they continue to fight to the last man1 
if their enemies stand before them3 and 

as they use all prudent methods  to     
avoid the endangering their own men1 and
 if it is possible let all  the action  
and danger fall upon the troops that    
they hire1 so if it  becomes necessary  
for themselves to engage1 they then     
charge with as  much courage as they    
avoided it before with prudence3 nor is 
it a  fierce charge at first1 but it    
increases by degrees2 and as they       
continue in action1 they grow more      
obstinate1 and press harder upon the    
enemy1 insomuch that they will much     
sooner die than give ground2 for  the   
certainty that their children will be   
well looked after when they  are dead   
frees them from all that anxiety        
concerning them which often  masters men
 of great courage2 and thus they are    
animated by a noble and  invincible     
resolution4 ,their skill in military    
affairs increases their  courage3 and   
the wise sentiments which1 according to 
the laws of their  country1 are         
instilled into them in their education1 

give additional  vigour to their minds3 
for as they do not undervalue life so as
  prodigally to throw it away1 they are 
not so indecently fond of it as  to     
preserve it by base and unbecoming      
methods4 ,in the greatest heat of       
action the bravest of their youth1 who  
have devoted themselves to that         
service1 single out the general of their
 enemies1 set on him either  openly or  
by ambuscade2 pursue him everywhere1 and
 when spent and  wearied out1 are       
relieved by others1 who never give over 
the pursuit1  either attacking him with 
close weapons when they can get near    
him1 or  with those which wound at a    
distance1 when others get in between    
them4  ,so that1 unless he secures      
himself by flight1 they seldom fail at  
last  to kill or to take him prisoner4  
,when they have obtained a victory1     
they kill as few as possible1 and are   
much more bent on taking many  prisoners
 than on killing those that fly before  
them4 ,nor do they ever  let their men  

so loose in the pursuit of their enemies
 as not to retain  an entire body still 
in order2 so that if they have been     
forced to  engage the last of their     
battalions before they could gain the   
day1  they will rather let their enemies
 all escape than pursue them when  their
 own army is in disorder2 remembering   
well what has often fallen  out to      
themselves1 that when the main body of  
their army has been quite  defeated and 
broken1 when their enemies1 imagining   
the victory  obtained1 have let         
themselves loose into an irregular      
pursuit1 a few of  them that lay for a  
reserve1 waiting a fit opportunity1 have
 fallen on  them in their chase1 and    
when straggling in disorder1 and        
apprehensive  of no danger1 but counting
 the day their own1 have turned the     
whole  action1 and1 wresting out of     
their hands a victory that seemed       
certain  and undoubted1 while the       
vanquished have suddenly become         
victorious4    8,it is hard to tell     

whether they are more dexterous in      
laying or  avoiding ambushes4 ,they     
sometimes seem to fly when it is far    
from their  thoughts2 and when they     
intend to give ground1 they do it so    
that it is  very hard to find out their 
design4 ,if they see they are ill       
posted1 or  are like to be overpowered  
by numbers1 they then either march off  
in  the night with great silence1 or by 
some stratagem delude their  enemies4   
,if they retire in the day-time1 they do
 it in such order that  it is no less   
dangerous to fall upon them in a retreat
 than in a march4  ,they fortify their  
camps with a deep and large trench2 and 
throw up the  earth that is dug out of  
it for a wall2 nor do they employ only  
their  slaves in this1 but the whole    
army works at it1 except those that are 
then upon the guard2 so that when so    
many hands are at work1 a great  line   
and a strong fortification is finished  
in so short a time that it  is scarce   
credible4 ,their armour is very strong  

for defence1 and yet is  not so heavy as
 to make them uneasy in their marches2  
they can even  swim with it4 ,all that  
are trained up to war practise swimming4
 ,both  horse and foot make great use of
 arrows1 and are very expert4 ,they have
  no swords1 but fight with a pole-axe  
that is both sharp and heavy1 by  which 
they thrust or strike down an enemy4    
,they are very good at  finding out     
warlike machines1 and disguise them so  
well that the enemy  does not perceive  
them till he feels the use of them2 so  
that he cannot  prepare such a defence  
as would render them useless2 the chief 
consideration had in the making them is 
that they may be easily carried  and    
managed4    8,if they agree to a truce1 
they observe it so religiously that no  
provocations will make them break it4   
,they never lay their enemies'  country 
waste nor burn their corn1 and even in  
their marches they take  all possible   
care that neither horse nor foot may    
tread it down1 for  they do not know but

 that they may have use for it          
themselves4 ,they  hurt no man whom they
 find disarmed1 unless he is a spy4     
,when a town is  surrendered to them1   
they take it into their protection2 and 
when they  carry a place by storm they  
never plunder it1 but put those only to 
the  sword that oppose the rendering of 
it up1 and make the rest of the         
garrison slaves1 but for the other      
inhabitants1 they do them no hurt2  and 
if any of them had advised a surrender1 
they give them good rewards  out of the 
estates of those that they condemn1 and 
distribute the rest  among their        
auxiliary troops1 but they themselves   
take no share of the  spoil4    8,when a
 war is ended1 they do not oblige their 
friends to reimburse  their expenses2   
but they obtain them of the conquered1  
either in money1  which they keep for   
the next occasion1 or in lands1 out of  
which a  constant revenue is to be paid 
them2 by many increases the revenue     
which they draw out from several        

countries on such occasions is now      
risen to above #gjj1jjj ducats a year4  
,they send some of their own  people to 
receive these revenues1 who have orders 
to live magnificently  and like princes1
 by which means they consume much of it 
upon the  place2 and either bring over  
the rest to ,utopia or lend it to that  
nation in which it lies4 ,this they most
 commonly do1 unless some great         
occasion1 which falls out but very      
seldom1 should oblige them to call  for 
it all4 ,it is out of these lands that  
they assign rewards to such  as they    
encourage to adventure on desperate     
attempts4 ,if any prince  that engages  
in war with them is making preparations 
for invading their  country1 they       
prevent him1 and make his country the   
seat of the war2  for they do not       
willingly suffer any war to break in    
upon their island2  and if that should  
happen1 they would only defend          
themselves by their  own people2 but    
would not call for auxiliary troops to  

their  assistance4          ,,of ,,the  
,,religions ,,of ,,the ,,utopians       
8,there are several sorts of religions1 
not only in different parts of  the     
island1 but even in every town2 some    
worshipping the sun1 others  the moon or
 one of the planets4 ,some worship such 
men as have been  eminent in former     
times for virtue or glory1 not only as  
ordinary  deities1 but as the supreme   
god4 ,yet the greater and wiser sort of 
them  worship none of these1 but adore  
one eternal1 invisible1 infinite1 and   
incomprehensible ,deity2 as a ,being    
that is far above all our               
apprehensions1 that is spread over the  
whole universe1 not by ,his bulk1  but  
by ,his power and virtue2 ,him they call
 the ,father of ,all1 and  acknowledge  
that the beginnings1 the increase1 the  
progress1 the  vicissitudes1 and the end
 of all things come only from ,him2 nor 
do they  offer divine honours to any but
 to ,him alone4 ,and1 indeed1 though    
they  differ concerning other things1   

yet all agree in this3 that they think  
there is one ,supreme ,being that made  
and governs the world1 whom they  call1 
in the language of their country1       
,mithras4 ,they differ in this3  that   
one thinks the god whom he worships is  
this ,supreme ,being1 and  another      
thinks that his idol is that god2 but   
they all agree in one  principle1 that  
whoever is this ,supreme ,being1 ,he is 
also that great  essence to whose glory 
and majesty all honours are ascribed by 
the  consent of all nations4    8,by    
degrees they fall off from the various  
superstitions that are among  them1 and 
grow up to that one religion that is the
 best and most in  request2 and there is
 no doubt to be made1 but that all the  
others had  vanished long ago1 if some  
of those who advised them to lay aside  
their  superstitions had not met with   
some unhappy accidents1 which1 being    
considered as inflicted by heaven1 made 
them afraid that the god whose  worship 
had like to have been abandoned had     

interposed and revenged  themselves on  
those who despised their authority4     
8,after they had heard from us an       
account of the doctrine1 the course of  
life1 and the miracles of ,christ1 and  
of the wonderful constancy of so  many  
martyrs1 whose blood1 so willingly      
offered up by them1 was the  chief      
occasion of spreading their religion    
over a vast number of  nations1 it is   
not to be imagined how inclined they    
were to receive it4  ,i shall not       
determine whether this proceeded from   
any secret  inspiration of ,god1 or     
whether it was because it seemed so     
favourable  to that community of goods1 
which is an opinion so particular as    
well  as so dear to them2 since they    
perceived that ,christ and ,his         
followers  lived by that rule1 and that 
it was still kept up in some communities
  among the sincerest sort of           
,christians4 ,from whichsoever of these 
motives it might be1 true it is1 that   
many of them came over to our  religion1

 and were initiated into it by baptism4 
,but as two of our  number were dead1 so
 none of the four that survived were in 
priests'  orders1 we1 therefore1 could  
only baptise them1 so that1 to our great
  regret1 they could not partake of the 
other sacraments1 that can only  be     
administered by priests1 but they are   
instructed concerning them and  long    
most vehemently for them4 ,they have had
 great disputes among  themselves1      
whether one chosen by them to be a      
priest would not be  thereby qualified  
to do all the things that belong to that
 character1  even though he had no      
authority derived from the ,pope1 and   
they seemed  to be resolved to choose   
some for that employment1 but they had  
not  done it when ,i left them4         
8,those among them that have not        
received our religion do not fright any 
from it1 and use none ill that goes over
 to it1 so that all the while ,i  was   
there one man was only punished on this 
occasion4 ,he being newly  baptised did1

 notwithstanding all that we could say  
to the contrary1  dispute publicly      
concerning the ,christian religion1 with
 more zeal than  discretion1 and with so
 much heat1 that he not only preferred  
our  worship to theirs1 but condemned   
all their rites as profane1 and cried   
out against all that adhered to them as 
impious and sacrilegious  persons1 that 
were to be damned to everlasting        
burnings4 ,upon his  having frequently  
preached in this manner he was seized1  
and after  trial he was condemned to    
banishment1 not for having disparaged   
their  religion1 but for his inflaming  
the people to sedition2 for this is one 
of their most ancient laws1 that no man 
ought to be punished for his  religion4 
,at the first constitution of their     
government1 ,utopus having  understood  
that before his coming among them the   
old inhabitants had  been engaged in    
great quarrels concerning religion1 by  
which they were  so divided among       
themselves1 that he found it an easy    

thing to conquer  them1 since1 instead  
of uniting their forces against him1    
every  different party in religion      
fought by themselves4 ,after he had     
subdued  them he made a law that every  
man might be of what religion he        
pleased1  and might endeavour to draw   
others to it by the force of argument   
and  by amicable and modest ways1 but   
without bitterness against those of     
other opinions2 but that he ought to use
 no other force but that of  persuasion1
 and was neither to mix with it         
reproaches nor violence2 and  such as   
did otherwise were to be condemned to   
banishment or slavery4    8,this law was
 made by ,utopus1 not only for          
preserving the public peace1  which he  
saw suffered much by daily contentions  
and irreconcilable  heats1 but because  
he thought the interest of religion     
itself required  it4 ,he judged it not  
fit to determine anything rashly2 and   
seemed to  doubt whether those different
 forms of religion might not all come   

from  ,god1 who might inspire man in a  
different manner1 and be pleased with   
this variety2 he therefore thought it   
indecent and foolish for any man  to    
threaten and terrify another to make him
 believe what did not appear  to him to 
be true4 ,and supposing that only one   
religion was really  true1 and the rest 
false1 he imagined that the native force
 of truth  would at last break forth and
 shine bright1 if supported only by the 
strength of argument1 and attended to   
with a gentle and unprejudiced  mind2   
while1 on the other hand1 if such       
debates were carried on with  violence  
and tumults1 as the most wicked are     
always the most obstinate1  so the best 
and most holy religion might be choked  
with superstition1  as corn is with     
briars and thorns2 he therefore left men
 wholly to  their liberty1 that they    
might be free to believe as they should 
see  cause2 only he made a solemn and   
severe law against such as should so    
far degenerate from the dignity of human

 nature1 as to think that our  souls    
died with our bodies1 or that the world 
was governed by chance1  without a wise 
overruling ,providence3 for they all    
formerly believed  that there was a     
state of rewards and punishments to the 
good and bad  after this life2 and they 
now look on those that think otherwise  
as  scarce fit to be counted men1 since 
they degrade so noble a being as  the   
soul1 and reckon it no better than a    
beast's3 thus they are far  from looking
 on such men as fit for human society1  
or to be citizens of  a well-ordered    
commonwealth2 since a man of such       
principles must needs1  as oft as he    
dares do it1 despise all their laws and 
customs3 for there  is no doubt to be   
made1 that a man who is afraid of       
nothing but the  law1 and apprehends    
nothing after death1 will not scruple to
 break  through all the laws of his     
country1 either by fraud or force1 when 
by  this means he may satisfy his       
appetites4 ,they never raise any that   

hold  these maxims1 either to honours or
 offices1 nor employ them in any  public
 trust1 but despise them1 as men of base
 and sordid minds4 ,yet  they do not    
punish them1 because they lay this down 
as a maxim1 that a  man cannot make     
himself believe anything he pleases2 nor
 do they drive  any to dissemble their  
thoughts by threatenings1 so that men   
are not  tempted to lie or disguise     
their opinions2 which being a sort of   
fraud1  is abhorred by the ,utopians3   
they take care indeed to prevent their  
disputing in defence of these opinions1 
especially before the common  people3   
but they suffer1 and even encourage them
 to dispute concerning  them in private 
with their priest1 and other grave men1 
being confident  that they will be cured
 of those mad opinions by having reason 
laid  before them4 ,there are many among
 them that run far to the other         
extreme1 though it is neither thought an
 ill nor unreasonable opinion1  and     
therefore is not at all discouraged4    

,they think that the souls of  beasts   
are immortal1 though far inferior to the
 dignity of the human  soul1 and not    
capable of so great a happiness4 ,they  
are almost all of  them very firmly     
persuaded that good men will be         
infinitely happy in  another state3 so  
that though they are compassionate to   
all that are  sick1 yet they lament no  
man's death1 except they see him loath  
to part  with life2 for they look on    
this as a very ill presage1 as if the   
soul1  conscious to itself of guilt1 and
 quite hopeless1 was afraid to leave    
the body1 from some secret hints of     
approaching misery4 ,they think that    
such a man's appearance before ,god     
cannot be acceptable to ,him1 who  being
 called on1 does not go out cheerfully1 
but is backward and  unwilling1 and is  
as it were dragged to it4 ,they are     
struck with horror  when they see any   
die in this manner1 and carry them out  
in silence and  with sorrow1 and praying
 ,god that ,he would be merciful to the 

errors of  the departed soul1 they lay  
the body in the ground3 but when any die
  cheerfully1 and full of hope1 they do 
not mourn for them1 but sing  hymns when
 they carry out their bodies1 and       
commending their souls very  earnestly  
to ,god3 their whole behaviour is then  
rather grave than sad1  they burn the   
body1 and set up a pillar where the pile
 was made1 with  an inscription to the  
honour of the deceased4 ,when they come 
from the  funeral1 they discourse of his
 good life1 and worthy actions1 but     
speak  of nothing oftener and with more 
pleasure than of his serenity at the    
hour of death4 ,they think such respect 
paid to the memory of good men  is both 
the greatest incitement to engage others
 to follow their  example1 and the most 
acceptable worship that can be offered  
them2 for  they believe that though by  
the imperfection of human sight they are
  invisible to us1 yet they are present 
among us1 and hear those  discourses    
that pass concerning themselves4 ,they  

believe it  inconsistent with the       
happiness of departed souls not to be at
 liberty  to be where they will3 and do 
not imagine them capable of the         
ingratitude of not desiring to see those
 friends with whom they lived  on earth 
in the strictest bonds of love and      
kindness3 besides1 they are  persuaded  
that good men1 after death1 have these  
affections2 and all  other good         
dispositions increased rather than      
diminished1 and therefore  conclude that
 they are still among the living1 and   
observe all they say  or do4 ,from hence
 they engage in all their affairs with  
the greater  confidence of success1 as  
trusting to their protection2 while this
  opinion of the presence of their      
ancestors is a restraint that prevents  
their engaging in ill designs4    8,they
 despise and laugh at auguries1 and the 
other vain and  superstitious ways of   
divination1 so much observed among other
 nations2  but have great reverence for 
such miracles as cannot flow from any of

  the powers of nature1 and look on them
 as effects and indications of  the     
presence of the ,supreme ,being1 of     
which they say many instances  have     
occurred among them2 and that sometimes 
their public prayers1  which upon great 
and dangerous occasions they have       
solemnly put up to  ,god1 with assured  
confidence of being heard1 have been    
answered in a  miraculous manner4       
8,they think the contemplating ,god in  
,his works1 and the adoring ,him for    
them1 is a very acceptable piece of     
worship to ,him4    8,there are many    
among them that upon a motive of        
religion neglect  learning1 and apply   
themselves to no sort of study2 nor do  
they allow  themselves any leisure time1
 but are perpetually employed1 believing
  that by the good things that a man    
does he secures to himself that         
happiness that comes after death4 ,some 
of these visit the sick2 others  mend   
highways1 cleanse ditches1 repair       
bridges1 or dig turf1 gravel1 or  stone4

 ,others fell and cleave timber1 and    
bring wood1 corn1 and other             
necessaries1 on carts1 into their towns2
 nor do these only serve the  public1   
but they serve even private men1 more   
than the slaves  themselves do3 for if  
there is anywhere a rough1 hard1 and    
sordid piece  of work to be done1 from  
which many are frightened by the labour 
and  loathsomeness of it1 if not the    
despair of accomplishing it1 they       
cheerfully1 and of their own accord1    
take that to their share2 and by  that  
means1 as they ease others very much1 so
 they afflict themselves1  and spend    
their whole life in hard labour3 and yet
 they do not value  themselves upon     
this1 nor lessen other people's credit  
to raise their  own2 but by their       
stooping to such servile employments    
they are so far  from being despised1   
that they are so much the more esteemed 
by the  whole nation4    8,of these     
there are two sorts3 some live unmarried
 and chaste1 and  abstain from eating   

any sort of flesh2 and thus weaning     
themselves from  all the pleasures of   
the present life1 which they account    
hurtful1 they  pursue1 even by the      
hardest and painfullest methods         
possible1 that  blessedness which they  
hope for hereafter2 and the nearer they 
approach  to it1 they are the more      
cheerful and earnest in their endeavours
 after  it4 ,another sort of them is    
less willing to put themselves to much  
toil1 and therefore prefer a married    
state to a single one2 and as they  do  
not deny themselves the pleasure of it1 
so they think the begetting  of children
 is a debt which they owe to human      
nature1 and to their  country2 nor do   
they avoid any pleasure that does not   
hinder labour2  and therefore eat flesh 
so much the more willingly1 as they find
 that  by this means they are the more  
able to work3 the ,utopians look upon   
these as the wiser sect1 but they esteem
 the others as the most holy4  ,they    
would indeed laugh at any man who1 from 

the principles of reason1  would prefer 
an unmarried state to a married1 or a   
life of labour to an  easy life3 but    
they reverence and admire such as do it 
from the motives  of religion4 ,there is
 nothing in which they are more cautious
 than in  giving their opinion          
positively concerning any sort of       
religion4 ,the  men that lead those     
severe lives are called in the language 
of their  country ,brutheskas1 which    
answers to those we call ,religious     
,orders4    8,their priests are men of  
eminent piety1 and therefore they are   
but  few1 for there are only thirteen in
 every town1 one for every temple2  but 
when they go to war1 seven of these go  
out with their forces1 and  seven others
 are chosen to supply their room in     
their absence2 but  these enter again   
upon their employments when they return2
 and those  who served in their absence1
 attend upon the high priest1 till      
vacancies fall by death2 for there is   
one set over the rest4 ,they are  chosen

 by the people as the other magistrates 
are1 by suffrages given  in secret1 for 
preventing of factions3 and when they   
are chosen1 they  are consecrated by the
 college of priests4 ,the care of all   
sacred  things1 the worship of ,god1 and
 an inspection into the manners of the  
people1 are committed to them4 ,it is a 
reproach to a man to be sent for  by any
 of them1 or for them to speak to him in
 secret1 for that always  gives some    
suspicion3 all that is incumbent on them
 is only to exhort  and admonish the    
people2 for the power of correcting and 
punishing ill  men belongs wholly to the
 ,prince1 and to the other magistrates3 
the  severest thing that the priest does
 is the excluding those that are        
desperately wicked from joining in their
 worship3 there is not any sort  of     
punishment more dreaded by them than    
this1 for as it loads them with  infamy1
 so it fills them with secret horrors1  
such is their reverence  to their       
religion2 nor will their bodies be long 

exempted from their  share of trouble2  
for if they do not very quickly satisfy 
the priests  of the truth of their      
repentance1 they are seized on by the   
,senate1 and  punished for their        
impiety4 ,the education of youth belongs
 to the  priests1 yet they do not take  
so much care of instructing them in     
letters1 as in forming their minds and  
manners aright2 they use all  possible  
methods to infuse1 very early1 into the 
tender and flexible  minds of children1 
such opinions as are both good in       
themselves and  will be useful to their 
country1 for when deep impressions of   
these  things are made at that age1 they
 follow men through the whole course  of
 their lives1 and conduce much to       
preserve the peace of the  government1  
which suffers by nothing more than by   
vices that rise out  of ill opinions4   
,the wives of their priests are the most
 extraordinary  women of the whole      
country2 sometimes the women themselves 
are made  priests1 though that falls out

 but seldom1 nor are any but ancient    
widows chosen into that order4    8,none
 of the magistrates have greater honour 
paid them than is paid the  priests2 and
 if they should happen to commit any    
crime1 they would not  be questioned for
 it2 their punishment is left to ,god1  
and to their own  consciences2 for they 
do not think it lawful to lay hands on  
any man1  how wicked soever he is1 that 
has been in a peculiar manner dedicated 
to ,god2 nor do they find any great     
inconvenience in this1 both because     
they have so few priests1 and because   
these are chosen with much  caution1 so 
that it must be a very unusual thing to 
find one who1  merely out of regard to  
his virtue1 and for his being esteemed a
  singularly good man1 was raised up to 
so great a dignity1 degenerate  into    
corruption and vice2 and if such a thing
 should fall out1 for man  is a         
changeable creature1 yet1 there being   
few priests1 and these  having no       
authority but what rises out of the     

respect that is paid  them1 nothing of  
great consequence to the public can     
proceed from the  indemnity that the    
priests enjoy4    8,they have1 indeed1  
very few of them1 lest greater numbers  
sharing in  the same honour might make  
the dignity of that order1 which they   
esteem  so highly1 to sink in its       
reputation2 they also think it difficult
 to  find out many of such an exalted   
pitch of goodness as to be equal to     
that dignity1 which demands the exercise
 of more than ordinary virtues4  ,nor   
are the priests in greater veneration   
among them than they are  among their   
neighbouring nations1 as you may imagine
 by that which ,i  think gives occasion 
for it4    8,when the ,utopians engage  
in battle1 the priests who accompany    
them to  the war1 apparelled in their   
sacred vestments1 kneel down during the 
action 7in a place not far from the     
field71 and1 lifting up their hands  to 
heaven1 pray1 first for peace1 and then 
for victory to their own  side1 and     

particularly that it may be gained      
without the effusion of  much blood on  
either side2 and when the victory turns 
to their side1  they run in among their 
own men to restrain their fury2 and if  
any of  their enemies see them or call  
to them1 they are preserved by that     
means2 and such as can come so near them
 as to touch their garments  have not   
only their lives1 but their fortunes    
secured to them2 it is  upon this       
account that all the nations round about
 consider them so  much1 and treat them 
with such reverence1 that they have been
 often no  less able to preserve their  
own people from the fury of their       
enemies  than to save their enemies from
 their rage2 for it has sometimes fallen
  out1 that when their armies have been 
in disorder and forced to fly1 so  that 
their enemies were running upon the     
slaughter and spoil1 the  priests by    
interposing have separated them from one
 another1 and  stopped the effusion of  
more blood2 so that1 by their mediation1

 a  peace has been concluded on very    
reasonable terms2 nor is there any      
nation about them so fierce1 cruel1 or  
barbarous1 as not to look upon  their   
persons as sacred and inviolable4       
8,the first and the last day of the     
month1 and of the year1 is a  festival2 
they measure their months by the course 
of the moon1 and  their years by the    
course of the sun3 the first days are   
called in  their language the           
,cynemernes1 and the last the           
,trapemernes1 which  answers in our     
language1 to the festival that begins or
 ends the  season4    8,they have       
magnificent temples1 that are not only  
nobly built1 but  extremely spacious1   
which is the more necessary as they have
 so few of  them2 they are a little dark
 within1 which proceeds not from any    
error  in the architecture1 but is done 
with design2 for their priests think    
that too much light dissipates the      
thoughts1 and that a more moderate      
degree of it both recollects the mind   

and raises devotion4 ,though there  are 
many different forms of religion among  
them1 yet all these1 how  various       
soever1 agree in the main point1 which  
is the worshipping the  ,divine         
,essence2 and1 therefore1 there is      
nothing to be seen or heard in  their   
temples in which the several persuasions
 among them may not  agree2 for every   
sect performs those rites that are      
peculiar to it in  their private houses1
 nor is there anything in the public    
worship that  contradicts the particular
 ways of those different sects4 ,there  
are no  images for ,god in their        
temples1 so that every one may represent
 ,him to  his thoughts according to the 
way of his religion2 nor do they call   
this one ,god by any other name but that
 of ,mithras1 which is the common  name 
by which they all express the ,divine   
,essence1 whatsoever otherwise  they    
think it to be2 nor are there any       
prayers among them but such as  every   
one of them may use without prejudice to

 his own opinion4    8,they meet in     
their temples on the evening of the     
festival that  concludes a season1 and  
not having yet broke their fast1 they   
thank ,god  for their good success      
during that year or month which is then 
at an  end2 and the next day1 being that
 which begins the new season1 they  meet
 early in their temples1 to pray for the
 happy progress of all  their affairs   
during that period upon which they then 
enter4 ,in the  festival which concludes
 the period1 before they go to the      
temple1 both  wives and children fall on
 their knees before their husbands or   
parents  and confess everything in which
 they have either erred or failed in    
their duty1 and beg pardon for it4 ,thus
 all little discontents in  families are
 removed1 that they may offer up their  
devotions with a  pure and serene mind2 
for they hold it a great impiety to     
enter upon  them with disturbed         
thoughts1 or with a consciousness of    
their bearing  hatred or anger in their 

hearts to any person whatsoever2 and    
think  that they should become liable to
 severe punishments if they presumed  to
 offer sacrifices without cleansing     
their hearts1 and reconciling all  their
 differences4 ,in the temples the two   
sexes are separated1 the men  go to the 
right hand1 and the women to the left2  
and the males and  females all place    
themselves before the head and master or
 mistress of  the family to which they  
belong1 so that those who have the      
government  of them at home may see     
their deportment in public4 ,and they   
intermingle them so1 that the younger   
and the older may be set by one         
another2 for if the younger sort were   
all set together1 they would1  perhaps1 
trifle away that time too much in which 
they ought to beget in  themselves that 
religious dread of the ,supreme ,being  
which is the  greatest and almost the   
only incitement to virtue4    8,they    
offer up no living creature in          
sacrifice1 nor do they think it         

suitable to the ,divine ,being1 from    
whose bounty it is that these  creatures
 have derived their lives1 to take      
pleasure in their deaths1  or the       
offering up their blood4 ,they burn     
incense and other sweet  odours1 and    
have a great number of wax lights during
 their worship1 not  out of any         
imagination that such oblations can add 
anything to the  divine nature 7which   
even prayers cannot do71 but as it is a 
harmless  and pure way of worshipping   
,god2 so they think those sweet savours 
and  lights1 together with some other   
ceremonies1 by a secret and             
unaccountable virtue1 elevate men's     
souls1 and inflame them with  greater   
energy and cheerfulness during the      
divine worship4    8,all the people     
appear in the temples in white garments2
 but the  priest's vestments are        
parti-coloured1 and both the work and   
colours  are wonderful4 ,they are made  
of no rich materials1 for they are      
neither  embroidered nor set with       

precious stones2 but are composed of the
  plumes of several birds1 laid together
 with so much art1 and so neatly1  that 
the true value of them is far beyond the
 costliest materials4 ,they  say1 that  
in the ordering and placing those plumes
 some dark mysteries  are represented1  
which pass down among their priests in a
 secret  tradition concerning them2 and 
that they are as hieroglyphics1 putting 
them in mind of the blessing that they  
have received from ,god1 and of  their  
duties1 both to ,him and to their       
neighbours4 ,as soon as the  priest     
appears in those ornaments1 they all    
fall prostrate on the  ground1 with so  
much reverence and so deep a silence1   
that such as look  on cannot but be     
struck with it1 as if it were the effect
 of the  appearance of a deity4 ,after  
they have been for some time in this    
posture1 they all stand up1 upon a sign 
given by the priest1 and sing  hymns to 
the honour of ,god1 some musical        
instruments playing all the  while4     

,these are quite of another form than   
those used among us2 but1  as many of   
them are much sweeter than ours1 so     
others are made use of  by us4 ,yet in  
one thing they very much exceed us3 all 
their music1 both  vocal and            
instrumental1 is adapted to imitate and 
express the passions1  and is so happily
 suited to every occasion1 that1 whether
 the subject  of the hymn be cheerful1  
or formed to soothe or trouble the mind1
 or to  express grief or remorse1 the   
music takes the impression of whatever  
is  represented1 affects and kindles the
 passions1 and works the sentiments     
deep into the hearts of the hearers4    
,when this is done1 both priests  and   
people offer up very solemn prayers to  
,god in a set form of words2  and these 
are so composed1 that whatsoever is     
pronounced by the whole  assembly may be
 likewise applied by every man in       
particular to his own  condition4 ,in   
these they acknowledge ,god to be the   
author and governor  of the world1 and  

the fountain of all the good they       
receive1 and  therefore offer up to him 
their thanksgiving2 and1 in particular1 
bless  him for ,his goodness in ordering
 it so1 that they are born under the    
happiest government in the world1 and   
are of a religion which they hope  is   
the truest of all others2 but1 if they  
are mistaken1 and if there is  either a 
better government1 or a religion more   
acceptable to ,god1 they  implore ,his  
goodness to let them know it1 vowing    
that they resolve to  follow him        
whithersoever he leads them2 but if     
their government is the  best1 and their
 religion the truest1 then they pray    
that ,he may fortify  them in it1 and   
bring all the world both to the same    
rules of life1 and  to the same opinions
 concerning ,himself1 unless1 according 
to the  unsearchableness of ,his mind1  
,he is pleased with a variety of        
religions4 ,then they pray that ,god may
 give them an easy passage at  last to  
,himself1 not presuming to set limits to

 ,him1 how early or late  it should be2 
but1 if it may be wished for without    
derogating from ,his  supreme authority1
 they desire to be quickly delivered1   
and to be taken  to ,himself1 though by 
the most terrible kind of death1 rather 
than to  be detained long from seeing   
,him by the most prosperous course of   
life4  ,when this prayer is ended1 they 
all fall down again upon the ground2    
and1 after a little while1 they rise up1
 go home to dinner1 and spend  the rest 
of the day in diversion or military     
exercises4    8,thus have ,i described  
to you1 as particularly as ,i could1 the
  ,constitution of that commonwealth1   
which ,i do not only think the best  in 
the world1 but indeed the only          
commonwealth that truly deserves that   
name4 ,in all other places it is visible
 that1 while people talk of a           
commonwealth1 every man only seeks his  
own wealth2 but there1 where no  man has
 any property1 all men zealously pursue 
the good of the public1  and1 indeed1 it

 is no wonder to see men act so         
differently1 for in  other commonwealths
 every man knows that1 unless he        
provides for  himself1 how flourishing  
soever the commonwealth may be1 he must 
die of  hunger1 so that he sees the     
necessity of preferring his own concerns
 to  the public2 but in ,utopia1 where  
every man has a right to everything1    
they all know that if care is taken to  
keep the public stores full no  private 
man can want anything2 for among them   
there is no unequal  distribution1 so   
that no man is poor1 none in necessity1 
and though no  man has anything1 yet    
they are all rich2 for what can make a  
man so  rich as to lead a serene and    
cheerful life1 free from anxieties2     
neither apprehending want himself1 nor  
vexed with the endless  complaints of   
his wife8 ,he is not afraid of the      
misery of his children1  nor is he      
contriving how to raise a portion for   
his daughters2 but is  secure in this1  
that both he and his wife1 his children 

and  grand-children1 to as many         
generations as he can fancy1 will all   
live  both plentifully and happily2     
since1 among them1 there is no less care
  taken of those who were once engaged  
in labour1 but grow afterwards  unable  
to follow it1 than there is1 elsewhere1 
of these that continue  still employed4 
,i would gladly hear any man compare the
 justice that is  among them with that  
of all other nations2 among whom1 may ,i
 perish1 if  ,i see anything that looks 
either like justice or equity2 for what 
justice is there in this3 that a        
nobleman1 a goldsmith1 a banker1 or  any
 other man1 that either does nothing at 
all1 or1 at best1 is  employed in things
 that are of no use to the public1      
should live in  great luxury and        
splendour upon what is so ill acquired1 
and a mean  man1 a carter1 a smith1 or a
 ploughman1 that works harder even than 
the  beasts themselves1 and is employed 
in labours so necessary1 that no        
commonwealth could hold out a year      

without them1 can only earn so poor  a  
livelihood and must lead so miserable a 
life1 that the condition of  the beasts 
is much better than theirs8 ,for as the 
beasts do not work so  constantly1 so   
they feed almost as well1 and with more 
pleasure1 and  have no anxiety about    
what is to come1 whilst these men are   
depressed  by a barren and fruitless    
employment1 and tormented with the      
apprehensions of want in their old age2 
since that which they get by  their     
daily labour does but maintain them at  
present1 and is consumed  as fast as it 
comes in1 there is no overplus left to  
lay up for old  age4    8,is not that   
government both unjust and ungrateful1  
that is so prodigal  of its favours to  
those that are called gentlemen1 or     
goldsmiths1 or  such others who are     
idle1 or live either by flattery or by  
contriving  the arts of vain pleasure1  
and1 on the other hand1 takes no care of
  those of a meaner sort1 such as       
ploughmen1 colliers1 and smiths1        

without whom it could not subsist8 ,but 
after the public has reaped all  the    
advantage of their service1 and they    
come to be oppressed with age1          
sickness1 and want1 all their labours   
and the good they have done is          
forgotten1 and all the recompense given 
them is that they are left to  die in   
great misery4 ,the richer sort are often
 endeavouring to bring  the hire of     
labourers lower1 not only by their      
fraudulent practices1  but by the laws  
which they procure to be made to that   
effect1 so that  though it is a thing   
most unjust in itself to give such small
 rewards  to those who deserve so well  
of the public1 yet they have given those
  hardships the name and colour of      
justice1 by procuring laws to be made   
for regulating them4    8,therefore ,i  
must say that1 as ,i hope for mercy1 ,i 
can have no other  notion of all the    
other governments that ,i see or know1  
than that they  are a conspiracy of the 
rich1 who1 on pretence of managing the  

public1  only pursue their private ends1
 and devise all the ways and arts they  
can find out2 first1 that they may1     
without danger1 preserve all that  they 
have so ill-acquired1 and then1 that    
they may engage the poor to  toil and   
labour for them at as low rates as      
possible1 and oppress them  as much as  
they please2 and if they can but prevail
 to get these  contrivances established 
by the show of public authority1 which  
is  considered as the representative of 
the whole people1 then they are         
accounted laws2 yet these wicked men1   
after they have1 by a most  insatiable  
covetousness1 divided that among        
themselves with which all  the rest     
might have been well supplied1 are far  
from that happiness  that is enjoyed    
among the ,utopians2 for the use as well
 as the desire  of money being          
extinguished1 much anxiety and great    
occasions of  mischief is cut off with  
it1 and who does not see that the       
frauds1  thefts1 robberies1 quarrels1   

tumults1 contentions1 seditions1        
murders1  treacheries1 and witchcrafts1 
which are1 indeed1 rather punished than 
restrained by the severities of law1    
would all fall off1 if money were  not  
any more valued by the world8 ,men's    
fears1 solicitudes1 cares1  labours1 and
 watchings would all perish in the same 
moment with the  value of money2 even   
poverty itself1 for the relief of which 
money  seems most necessary1 would fall4
 ,but1 in order to the apprehending     
this aright1 take one instance3--       
8,consider any year1 that has been so   
unfruitful that many thousands  have    
died of hunger2 and yet if1 at the end  
of that year1 a survey was  made of the 
granaries of all the rich men that have 
hoarded up the  corn1 it would be found 
that there was enough among them to have
  prevented all that consumption of men 
that perished in misery2 and  that1 if  
it had been distributed among them1 none
 would have felt the  terrible effects  
of that scarcity3 so easy a thing would 

it be to  supply all the necessities of 
life1 if that blessed thing called      
money1  which is pretended to be        
invented for procuring them was not     
really the  only thing that obstructed  
their being procured6    8,i do not     
doubt but rich men are sensible of this1
 and that they well  know how much a    
greater happiness it is to want nothing 
necessary1 than  to abound in many      
superfluities2 and to be rescued out of 
so much  misery1 than to abound with so 
much wealth3 and ,i cannot think but the
  sense of every man's interest1 added  
to the authority of ,christ's  commands1
 who1 as ,he was infinitely wise1 knew  
what was best1 and was  not less good in
 discovering it to us1 would have drawn 
all the world  over to the laws of the  
,utopians1 if pride1 that plague of     
human  nature1 that source of so much   
misery1 did not hinder it2 for this vice
  does not measure happiness so much by 
its own conveniences1 as by the         
miseries of others2 and would not be    

satisfied with being thought a  goddess1
 if none were left that were miserable1 
over whom she might  insult4 ,pride     
thinks its own happiness shines the     
brighter1 by  comparing it with the     
misfortunes of other persons2 that by   
displaying  its own wealth they may feel
 their poverty the more sensibly4 ,this 
is  that infernal serpent that creeps   
into the breasts of mortals1 and        
possesses them too much to be easily    
drawn out2 and1 therefore1 ,i am  glad  
that the ,utopians have fallen upon this
 form of government1 in  which ,i wish  
that all the world could be so wise as  
to imitate them2  for they have1 indeed1
 laid down such a scheme and foundation 
of  policy1 that as men live happily    
under it1 so it is like to be of great  
continuance2 for they having rooted out 
of the minds of their people  all the   
seeds1 both of ambition and faction1    
there is no danger of any  commotions at
 home2 which alone has been the ruin of 
many states that  seemed otherwise to be

 well secured2 but as long as they live 
in peace  at home1 and are governed by  
such good laws1 the envy of all their   
neighbouring princes1 who have often1   
though in vain1 attempted their  ruin1  
will never be able to put their state   
into any commotion or  disorder40       
,when ,raphael had thus made an end of  
speaking1 though many things  occurred  
to me1 both concerning the manners and  
laws of that people1  that seemed very  
absurd1 as well in their way of making  
war1 as in  their notions of religion   
and divine matters--together with       
several  other particulars1 but chiefly 
what seemed the foundation of all the   
rest1 their living in common1 without   
the use of money1 by which all          
nobility1 magnificence1 splendour1 and  
majesty1 which1 according to the  common
 opinion1 are the true ornaments of a   
nation1 would be quite  taken away--yet 
since ,i perceived that ,raphael was    
weary1 and was not  sure whether he     
could easily bear contradiction1        

remembering that he  had taken notice of
 some1 who seemed to think they were    
bound in honour  to support the credit  
of their own wisdom1 by finding out     
something to  censure in all other men's
 inventions1 besides their own1 ,i only 
commended their ,constitution1 and the  
account he had given of it in  general2 
and so1 taking him by the hand1 carried 
him to supper1 and  told him ,i would   
find out some other time for examining  
this subject  more particularly1 and for
 discoursing more copiously upon it4    
,and1  indeed1 ,i shall be glad to      
embrace an opportunity of doing it4 ,in 
the  meanwhile1 though it must be       
confessed that he is both a very learned
  man and a person who has obtained a   
great knowledge of the world1 ,i  cannot
 perfectly agree to everything he has   
related4 ,however1 there are  many      
things in the commonwealth of ,utopia   
that ,i rather wish1 than  hope1 to see 
followed in our governments4