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Second BookPart IV
Part IV
Of the Religions in Utopia
There be divers kinds of religion not only in sundry parts of the island,
but also in divers places of every city. Some worship for God, the sun; some,
the moon; some, some other of the planets. There be that give worship to a man
that was once of excellent virtue or of famous glory, not only as God, but
also as the chiefest and highest God. But the most and the wisest part
(rejecting all these) believe that there is a certain godly power unknown,
everlasting, incomprehensible, inexplicable, far above the capacity and reach
of man`s wit, dispersed throughout all the world, not in bigness, but in
virtue and power. Him they call the father of all. To him alone they attribute
the beginnings, the increasings, the proceedings, the changes and the ends of
all things. Neither they give divine honours to any other than to him. Yea
all the other also, though they be in divers opinions, yet in this point they
agree all together with the wisest sort, in believing that there is one chief
and principal God, the maker and ruler of the whole world: whom they all
commonly in their country language call Mithra. But in this they disagree,
that among some he is counted one, and among some another. For every one of
them, whatsoever that is which he taketh for the chief God, thinketh it to be
the very same nature, to whose only divine might and majesty the sum and
sovereignty of all things by the consent of all people is attributed and
given. Howbeit they all begin by little and little to forsake and fall from
this variety of superstitions, and to agree together in that religion which
seemeth by reason to pass and excel the residue. And it is not to be doubted,
but all the other would long ago have been abolished, but that whatsoever
unprosperous thing happened to any of them, as he was minded to change his
religion, the fearfulness of people did take it, not as a thing coming by
chance, but as sent from God out of heaven. As though the God whose honour he
was forsaking would revenge that wicked purpose against him. But after they
heard us speak of the name of Christ, of his doctrine, laws, miracles, and
of the no less wonderful constancy of so many martyrs, whose blood willingly
shed brought a great number of nations throughout all parts of the world into
their sect; you will not believe with how glad minds, they agreed unto the
same: whether it were by the secret inspiration of God, or else for that they
thought it next unto that opinion, which among them is counted the chiefest.
Howbeit I think this was no small help and furtherance in the matter, that
they heard us say, that Christ instituted among his, all things common; and
that the same community doth yet remain amongst the rightest Christian
companies. Verily howsoever, it came to pass, many of them consented together
in our religion, and were washed in the holy water of baptism. But because
among us four (for no more of us was left alive, two of our company being
dead) there was no priest; which I am right sorry for; they being entered and
instructed in all other points of our religion, lack only those sacraments,
which here none but priests do minister. Howbeit they understand and perceive
them and be very desirous of the same. Yea, they reason and dispute the
matter earnestly among themselves, whether without the sending of a Christian
bishop, one chosen out of their own people may receive the order of
priesthood. And truly they were minded to choose one. But at my departure
from them they had chosen none. They also which do not agree to Christ`s
religion, fear no man from it, nor speak against any man that hath received
it. Saving that one of our company in my presence was sharply punished. He as
soon as he was baptised began against our wills, with more earnest affection
than wisdom, to reason of Christ`s religion; and began to wax so hot in his
matter, that he did not only prefer our religion before all other, but also
did utterly despise and condemn all other, calling them profane, and the
followers of them wicked and devilish and the children of everlasting
damnation. When he had thus long reasoned the matter, they laid hold on him,
accused him and condemned him into exile, not as a despiser of religion, but
as a seditious person and a raiser up of dissension among the people. For
this is one of the ancientest laws among them; that no man shall be blamed
for reasoning in the maintenance of his own religion. For King Utopus, even
at the first beginning, hearing that the inhabitants of the land were, before
his coming thither, at continual dissension and strife among themselves for
their religions; perceiving also that this common dissension (whilest every
several sect took several parts in fighting for their country) was the only
occasion of his conquest over them all; as soon as he had gotten the victory,
first of all he made a decree, that it should be lawful for every man to
favour and follow what religion he would, and that he might do the best
he could to bring other to his opinion, so that he did it peaceably, gently,
quietly, and soberly, without haste and contentious rebuking and inveighing
against other. If he could not by fair and gentle speech induce them unto his
opinion yet he should use no kind of violence, and refrain from displeasant
and seditious words. To him that would vehemently and fervently in this cause
strive and contend was decreed banishment or bondage. This law did King
Utopus make not only for the maintenance of peace, which he saw through
continual contention and mortal hatred utterly extinguished; but also because
he thought this decree should make or the furtherance of religion. Whereof he
durst define and determine nothing unadvisedly, as doubting whether God
desiring manifold and divers sorts of honour, would inspire sundry men with
sundry kinds of religion. And this surely he thought a very unmeet and
foolish thing, and a point of arrogant presumption, to compel all other by
violence and threatenings to agree to the same that thou believest to be true.
Furthermore though there be one religion which alone is true, and all other
vain and superstitious, yet did he well foresee (so that the matter were
handled with reason, and sober modesty) that the truth of its own power would
at the last issue out and come to light. But if contention and debate in that
behalf should continually be used, as the worst men be most obstinate and
stubborn, and in their evil opinion most constant; he perceived that then the
best and holiest religion would be trodden underfoot and destroyed by most
vain superstitions, even as good corn is by thorns and weeds overgrown and
choked. Therefore all this matter he left undiscussed, and gave to every man
free liberty and choice to believe what he would. Saving that he earnestly and
straightly charged them, that no man should conceive so vile and base an
opinion of the dignity of man`s nature, as to think that the souls do die and
perish with the body; or that the world runneth at all adventures governed by
no divine providence. And therefore they believe that after this life vices be
extremely punished and virtues bountifully rewarded. Him that is of a contrary
opinion they count not in the number of men, as one that hath abased the high
nature of his soul to the vileness of brute beasts` bodies, much less in the
number of their citizens, whose laws and ordinances, if it were not fear, he
would nothing at all esteem. For you may be sure that he will study either
with craft privily to mock, or else violently to break the common laws of
this country, in whom remaineth no further fear than of the laws, nor no
further hope than of the body. Wherefore he that is thus minded is deprived
of all honours, excluded from all offices and rejected from all common
administrations in the weal public. And thus he is of all sort despised, as
of an unprofitable and of a base and vile nature. Howbeit they put him to
no punishment, because they be persuaded that it is in no man`s power to
believe what he list. No, nor they constrain him not with threatenings to
dissemble his mind and show countenance contrary to his thought. For deceit
and falsehood and all manner of lies, as next unto fraud, they do marvellously
detest and abhor. But they suffer him not to dispute in his opinion, and that
only among the common people. For else apart among the priests and men of
gravity they do not only suffer, but also exhort him to dispute and argue,
hoping that at the last, that madness will give place to reason. There be also
other, and of them no small number, which be not forbidden to speak their
minds, as grounding their opinion upon some reason, being in their living
neither evil nor vicious. Their heresy is much contrary to the other. For they
believe that the souls of brute beasts be immortal and everlasting. But
nothing to be compared with ours in dignity, neither ordained and predestinate
to like felicity. For all they believe certainly and surely that man`s bliss
shall be so great, that they do mourn and lament every man`s sickness, but no
man`s death, unless it be one whom they see depart from his life carefully and
against his will. For this they take for a very evil token, as though the soul
being in despair and vexed in conscience, through some privy and secret
forefeeling of the punishment now at hand, were afraid to depart. And they
think he shall not be welcome to God, which, when he is called, runneth not to
him gladly, but is drawn by force and sore against his will. They therefore
that see this kind of death do abhor it, and them that so die they bury with
sorrow and silence. And when they have prayed God to be merciful to the soul
and mercifully to pardon the infirmities thereof, they cover the dead corse
with earth. Contrariwise all that depart merrily and full of good hope, for
them no man mourneth, but followeth the hearse with joyful singing, commending
the souls to God with great affection. And at the last, not with mourning
sorrow, but with a great reverence they burn the bodies. And in the same place
they set up a pillar of stone, with the dead man`s titles therein graved. When
they be come home they rehearse his virtuous manners and his good deeds. But
no part of his life is so oft or gladly talked of as his merry death. They
think that this remembrance of their virtue and goodness doth vehemently
provoke and enforce the quick to virtue. And that nothing can be more pleasant
and acceptable to the dead. Whom they suppose to be present among them, when
they talk of them, though to the dull and feeble eyesight of mortal men they
be invisible. For it were an inconvenient thing that the blessed should not
be at liberty to go whither they would. And it were a point of great
unkindnes in them to have utterly cast away the desire of visiting and seeing
their friends, to whom they were in their lifetime joined by mutual love and
charity. Which in good men after their death they count to be rather
increased than diminished. They believe therefore that the dead be presently
conversant among the quick, as beholders and witnesses of all their words and
deeds. Therefore, they go more courageously to their business as having a
trust and affiance in such overseers. And this same belief of the present
conversation of their forefathers and ancestors among them feareth them from
all secret dishonesty. They utterly despise and mock soothsayings and
divinations of things to come by the flight or voices of birds, and all other
divinations of vain superstition, which in other countries be in great
observation. But they highly esteem and worship miracles that come by no help
of nature, as works and witnesses of the present power of God. And such they
say do chance there very often. And sometimes in great and doubtful matters,
by common intercession and prayers, they procure and obtain them with a sure
hope and confidence, and a steadfast belief.
They think that the contemplation of nature and the praise thereof
coming, is to God a very acceptable honour. Yet there be many so earnestly
bent and affectioned to religion, that they pass nothing for learning, nor
give their minds to no knowledge of things. But idleness they utterly forsake
and eschew, thinking felicity after this life to be gotten and obtained by
busy labours and good exercises. Some therefore of them attend upon the sick,
some amend highways, cleanse ditches, repair bridges, dig turfs, gravel and
stones, fell and cleave wood, bring wood, corn, and other things into the
cities in carts, and serve not only in common works, but also in private
labours as servants, yea, more than bondmen. For whatsoever unpleasant, hard
and vile work is anywhere, from the which labour, loathsomeness and
desperation doth frighten other, all that they take upon them willingly and
gladly, procuring quiet and rest to other, remaining in continual work and
labour themselves, not upbraiding others therewith. They neither reprove other
men`s lives, nor glory in their own. These men the more serviceable they
behave themselves, the more they be honoured of all men. Yet they be divided
into two sects. The one is of them that live single and chaste, abstaining not
only from the company of women, but also from the eating of flesh, and some of
them from all manner of beasts. Which utterly rejecting the pleasures of this
present life as hurtful, be all wholly set upon the desire of the life to come
by watching and sweating, hoping shortly to obtain it, being in the mean
season merry and lusty. The other sect is no less desirous of labour, but they
embrace matrimony, not despising the solace thereof, thinking that they cannot
be discharged of their bounden duties towards nature without labour and toil,
nor towards their native country without procreation of children. They abstain
from no pleasure that doth nothing hinder them from labour. They love the
flesh of four-footed beasts, because they believe that by that meat they be
made hardier and stronger to work. The Utopians count this sect the wiser, but
the other the holier. Which, in that they prefer single life before matrimony,
and that sharp life before an easier life, if herein they grounded upon reason
they would mock them. But now forasmuch as they say they be led to it by
religion, they honour and worship them. And these be they whom in their
language by a peculiar name, they call Buthrescas, the which word by
interpretation signifieth to us men of religion or religious men. They have
priests of exceeding holiness, and therefore very few. For there be but
thirteen in every city according to the number of their churches, saving when
they go forth to battle. For then seven of them go forth with the army; in
whose stead so many new be made at home. But the other at their return home
again re-enter every one into his own place, they that be above the number,
until such time as they succeed into the places of the other at their dying,
be in the mean season continually in company with the bishop. For he is the
chief head of them all. They be chosen of the people, as the other magistrates
be, by secret voices for the avoiding of strife. After their election they be
consecrate of their own company. They be overseers of all divine matters,
orderers of religions, and as it were judges and masters of manners. And it is
a great dishonesty and shame to be rebuked or spoken to by any of them for
dissolute and incontinent living. But as it is their office to give good
exhortations and counsel, so is it the duty of the prince and the other
magistrates to correct and punish offenders, saving that the priests, whom
they find exceeding vicious livers, them they excommunicate from having any
interest in divine matters. And there is almost no punishment among them more
feared. For they run in very great infamy, and be inwardly tormented with a
secret fear of religion, and shall not long `scape free with their bodies. For
unless they by quick repentance approve the amendment of their lives to the
priests, they be taken and punished of the council, as wicked and irreligious.
Both childhood and youth is instructed and taught of them. Nor they be not
more diligent to instruct them in learning, than in virtue and good manners.
For they use with very great endeavour and diligence to put into the heads of
their children, whiles they be yet tender and pliant, good opinions and
profitable for the conservation of their weal public. Which when they be once
rooted in children, do remain with them all their life after, and be wonders
profitable for the defence and maintenance of the state of the commonwealth.
Which never decayeth but through vices rising of evil opinions. The priests,
unless they be women (for that kind is not excluded from priesthood, howbeit
few be chosen, and none but widows and old women), the men priests, I say,
take to their wives the chiefest women in all their country. For to no office
among the Utopians is more honour and pre-eminence given. Insomuch that if
they commit any offence, they be under no common judgment, but be left only to
God, and themselves. For they think it not lawful to touch him with man`s
hand, be he never so vicious, which after so singular a sort was dedicate and
consecrate to God, as a holy offering. This manner may they easily observe,
because they have so few priests, and do choose them with such circumspection.
For it scarcely ever chanceth that the most virtuous among virtuous, which in
respect only of his virtue is advanced to so high a dignity, can fall to vice
and wickedness. And if it should chance indeed (as man`s nature is mutable
and frail) yet by reason they be so few and promoted to no might nor power,
but only honour, it were not to be feared that any great damage by them should
happen and ensue to the commonwealth. The have so rare and few priests, lest
if the honour were communicate to many, the dignity of the order, which among
them now is so highly esteemed, should run in contempt. Specially because they
think it hard to find many so good as to be meet for that dignity, to the
execution and discharge whereof it is not sufficient to be endued with mean
virtues. Furthermore these priests be not more esteemed of their own
countrymen, than they be of foreign and strange countries. Which thing may
hereby plainly appear. And I think also that this is the cause of it. For
whiles the arm[i]es be fighting together in open field, they a little beside,
not far off kneel upon their knees in their hallowed vestments, holding up
their hands to heaven, praying first of all for peace, next for victory of
their own part, but to neither part of a bloody victory. If their host get the
upper hand, they run into the main battle and restrain their own men from
slaying and cruelly pursuing their vanquished enemies. Which enemies, if they
do but see them and speak to them, it is enough for the safeguard of their
lives. And the touching of their clothes defendeth and saveth all their goods
from ravine and spoil. This thing hath advanced them to so great worship and
true majesty among all nations, that many times they have as well preserved
their own citizens from the cruel force of their enemies, as they have their
enemies from the furious rage of their own men. For it is well known, that
when their own army hath reculed and in despair turned back and run away,
their enemies fiercely pursuing with slaughter and spoil, then the priests
coming between have stayed the murder, and parted both the hosts. So that
peace hath been made and concluded between both parts upon equal and
indifferent conditions. For there was never any nation, so fierce, so cruel
and rude, but they had them in such reverence, that they counted their bodies
hallowed and sanctified, and therefore not to be violently and unreverently
touched.
They keep holy day the first and the last day of every month and
year, dividing the year into months, which they measure by the course of the
moon, as they do the year by the course of the sun. The first days they call
in their language Cynemernes and the last Trapemernes, the which words may be
interpreted, primifest and finifest, or else in our speech, first feast and
last feast. Their churches be very gorgeous and not only of fine and curious
workmanship, but also (which in the fewness of them was necessary) very wide
and large, and able to receive a great company of people. But they be all
somewhat dark. Howbeit that was not done through ignorance in building, but
as they say, by the counsel of the priests. Because they thought that over
much light doth disperse men`s cogitations, whereas in dim and doubtful light
they be gathered together, and more earnestly fixed upon religion and
devotion; which because it is not there of one sort among all men, and yet
all the kinds and fashions of it, though they be sundry and manifold, agree
together in the honour of the divine nature as going divers ways to one end;
therefore nothing is seen nor heard in the churches, which seemeth not to
agree indifferently with them all. If there be a distinct kind of sacrifice
peculiar to any several sect, that they execute at home in their own houses.
The common sacrifices be so ordered, that they be no derogation nor prejudice
to any of the private sacrifices and religions. Therefore, no image of any
god is seen in the church, to the intent it may be free for every man to
conceive God by their religion after what likeness and similitude they will.
They call upon no peculiar name of God, but only Mithra, in the which word
they all agree together in one nature of the divine majesty whatsoever it be.
No prayers be used but such as every man may boldly pronounce without the
offending of any sect. They come therefore to the church the last day of
every month and year, in the evening yet fasting, there to give thanks to God
for that they have prosperously passed over the year or month, whereof that
holy day is the last day. The next day they come to the church early in the
morning, to pray to God that they may have good fortune and success all the
new year or month which they do begin of that same holy day. But in the holy
days that be the last days of the months and years before they come to the
church, the wives fall down prostrate before their husband`s feet at home and
the children before the feet of their parents, confessing and acknowledging
that they have offended either by some actual deed, or by omission of their
duty, and desire pardon for their offence. Thus, if any cloud of privy
displeasure was risen at home, by this satisfaction it is overblown, that
they may be present at the sacrifices with pure and charitable minds. For
they be afraid to come there with troubled consciences. Therefore,
if they know themselves to bear any hatred or grudge towards any man, they
presume not to come to the sacrifices, before they have reconciled themselves
and purged their consciences, for fear of great vengeance and punishment for
their offence. When they come thither, the men go into the right side of the
church and the women into the left side. There they place themselves in such
order, that all they which be of the male kind in every household sit before
the goodman of the house, and they of the female kind before the goodwife.
Thus it is foreseen that all their gestures and behaviours be marked and
observed abroad of them by whose authority and discipline they be governed at
home. This also they diligently see unto, that the younger evermore be coupled
with his elder, lest if children be joined together, they should pass over
that time in childish wantonness, wherein they ought principally to conceive a
religious and devout fear towards God, which is the chief and almost the only
incitation to virtue. They kill no living beast in sacrifice, nor they think
not that the merciful clemency of God hath delight in blood and slaughter,
which hath given life to beasts to the intent they should live. They burn
frankincense and other sweet savours, and light also a great number of wax
candles and tapers, not supposing this gear to be anything available to the
divine nature, as neither the prayers of men. But this unhurtful and harmless
kind of worship pleaseth them. And by these sweet savours and lights, and
other such ceremonies men feel themselves secretly lifted up and encouraged to
devotion with more willing and fervent hearts. The people weareth in the
church white apparel. The priest is clothed in changeable colours. Which in
workmanship be excellent, but in stuff not very precious. For their vestments
be neither embroidered with gold, nor set with precious stones. But they be
wrought so finely and cunningly with divers feathers of fowls, that the
estimation of no costly stuff is able to countervail the price of the work.
Furthermore in these birds` feathers, and in the due order of them, which is
observed in their setting, they say, is contained certain divine mysteries.
The interpretation whereof known, which is diligently taught by the priests,
they be put in remembrance of the bountiful benefits of God toward them; and
of the love and honour which of their behalf is due to God; and also of their
duties one toward another. When the priest first cometh out of the vestry thus
apparelled, they fall down incontinent every one reverently to the ground,
with so still silence on every part, that the very fashion of the thing
striketh into them a certain fear of God, as though he were there personally
present, When they have lain a little space on the ground, the priest giveth
them a sign for to rise. Then they sing praises unto God, which they intermix
with instruments of music, for the most part of other fashions than these that
we use in this part of the world. And like as some of ours be much sweeter
than theirs, so some of theirs do far pass ours. But in one thing doubtless
they go exceeding far beyond us. For all their music, both that they play upon
instruments, and that they sing with man`s voice, doth so resemble and express
natural affections, the sound and tune is so applied and made agreeable to the
thing, that whether it be a prayer, or else a ditty of gladness, of patience,
of trouble, of mourning, or of anger; the fashion of the melody doth so
represent the meaning of the thing, that it doth wonderfully move, stir,
pierce and inflame the hearers` minds. At the last the people and the priest
together rehearse solemn prayers in words, expressly pronounced, so made that
every man may privately apply to himself that which is commonly spoken of all.
In these prayers every man recogniseth and acknowledgeth God to be his maker,
his governor and the principal cause of all other goodness, thanking him for
so many benefits received at his hand. But namely that through the favour of
God he hath chanced into that public weal, which is most happy and wealthy,
and hath chosen that religion, which he hopeth to be most true. In the which
thing if he do anything err, or if there be any other better than either of
them is, being more acceptable to God, he desireth him that he will of his
goodness let him have knowledge thereof, as one that is ready to follow what
way soever he will lead him. But if this form and fashion of a commonwealth be
best, and his own religion most true and perfect, than he desireth God to give
him a constant steadfastness in the same, and to bring all other people to the
same order of living and to the same opinion of God, unless there be anything
that in this diversity of religions doth delight his unsearchable pleasure. To
be short, he prayeth him that after his death he may come to him. But how soon
or late that he dare not assign or determine. Howbeit, if it might stand with
his majesty`s pleasure, he would be much gladder to die a painful death and so
to go to God, than by long living in worldly prosperity to be away from him.
When this prayer is said they fall down to the ground again and a little after
they rise up and go to dinner. And the residue of the day they pass over in
plays and exercise of chivalry.
Now I have declared and described unto you, as truly as I could the form
and order of that commonwealth, which verily in my judgment is not only the
best, but also that which alone of good right may claim and take upon it
the name of a commonwealth or public weal. For in other places they speak
still of the commonwealth, but every man procureth his own private wealth.
Here where nothing is private, the common affairs be earnestly looked upon.
And truly on both parts they have good cause so to do as they do. For in other
countries who knoweth not that he shall starve for hunger, unless he make some
several provision for himself, though the commonwealth flourish never so much
in riches? And therefore he is compelled even of very necessity to have regard
to himself, rather than to the people, that is to say, to other. Contrariwise,
there where all things be common to every man, it is not to be doubted that
any man shall lack anything necessary for his private uses, so that the common
storehouses and barns be sufficiently stored. For there nothing is distributed
after a niggish sort, neither there is any poor man or beggar. And though no
man have anything, yet every man is rich. For what can be more rich, than to
live joyfully and merrily, without all grief and pensiveness; not caring for
his own living, nor vexed or troubled with his wife`s importunate complaints,
not dreading poverty to his son, nor sorrowing for his daughter`s dowry? Yea
they take no care at all for the living and wealth of themselves and all
theirs, of their wives, their children, their nephews, their children`s
children, and all the succession that ever shall follow in their posterity.
And yet besides this there is no less provision for them that were once
labourers and be now weak and impotent, than for them that do now labour and
take pain. Here now would I see, if any man dare be so bold as to compare with
this equity, the justice of other nations; among whom, I forsake God, if I can
find any sign or token of equity and justice. For what justice is this, that
a rich goldsmith, or an usurer, or to be short, any of them which either do
nothing at all, or else that which they do is such that it is not very
necessary to the commonwealth, should have a pleasant and a wealthy living,
either by idleness, or by unnecessary business; when in the meantime poor
labourers, carters, ironsmiths, carpenters and ploughmen, by so great and
continual toil, as drawing and bearing beasts be scant able to sustain, and
again so necessary toil, that without it no commonwealth were able to continue
and endure one year, do yet get so hard and poor a living, and live so
wretched and miserable a life, that the state and condition of the labouring
beasts may seem much better and wealthier? For they be not put to so continual
labour, nor their living is not much worse, yea to them much pleasanter,
taking no thought in the mean season for the time to come. But these silly
poor wretches be presently tormented with barren and unfruitful labour. And
the remembrance of their poor indigent and beggarly old age killeth them up.
For their daily wages is so little, that it will not suffice for the same day,
much less it yieldeth any overplus, that may daily be laid up for the relief
of old age. Is not this an unjust and an unkind public weal, which giveth
great fees and rewards to gentleman, as they call them, and to goldsmiths, and
to such other, which be either idle persons, or else only flatterers, and
devisers of vain pleasures; and of the contrary part maketh no gentle
provision for poor ploughmen, colliers, labourers, carters, ironsmiths, and
carpenters: without whom no commonwealth can continue. But when it hath abused
the labours of their lusty and flowering age, at the last when they be
oppressed with old age and sickness, being needy, poor, and indigent of all
things, then forgetting their so many painful watchings, not remembering their
so many and so great benefits, recompenseth and acquitteth them most unkindly
with miserable death. And yet besides this the rich men not only by private
fraud, but also by common laws, do every day pluck and snatch away from the
poor some part of their daily living. So whereas it seemed before unjust to
recompense with unkindness their pains that have been beneficial to the public
weal, now they have to this their wrong and unjust dealing (which is yet a
much worse point) given the name of justice, yea and that by force of a law.
Therefore, when I consider and weigh in my mind all these commonwealths, which
nowadays anywhere do flourish, so God help me, I can perceive nothing but a
certain conspiracy of rich men procuring their own commodities under the name
and title of the commonwealth. They invent and devise all means and crafts,
first how to keep safely, without fear of losing, that they have unjustly
gathered together, and next how to hire and abuse the work and labour of the
poor for as little money as may be. These devices, when the rich men have
decreed to be kept and observed for the commonwealth`s sake, that is to say
for the wealth also of the poor people, then they be made laws. But these
most wicked and vicious men, when they have by their insatiable covetousness
divided among themselves all those things, which would have sufficed all men,
yet how far be they from the wealth and felicity of the Utopian commonwealth?
Out of the which, in that all the desire of money with the use of thereof is
utterly secluded and banished, how great a heap of cares is cut away! How
great an occasion of wickedness and mischief is plucked up by the roots! For
who knoweth not, that fraud, theft, ravine, brawling, quarreling, brabling,
strife, chiding, contention, murder, treason, poisoning, which by daily
punishments are rather revenged than refrained, do die when money dieth? And
also that fear, grief, care, labours and watchings do perish even the very
same moment that money perisheth? Yea poverty itself, which only seemed to
lack money, if money were gone, it also would decrease and vanish away. And
that you may perceive this more plainly, consider with yourselves some barren
and unfruitful year, wherein many thousands of people have starved for
hunger. I dare be bold to say, that in the end of that penury so much corn or
grain might have been found in the rich men`s barns, if they had been
searched, as being divided among them whom famine and pestilence have killed,
no man at all should have felt that plague and penury. So easily might men
get their living, if that same worthy princess, lady money, did not alone
stop up the way between us and our living, which a God`s name was very
excellently devised and invented, that by her the way thereto should be
opened. I am sure the rich men perceive this, nor they be not ignorant how
much better it were to lack no necessary thing, than to abound with overmuch
superfluity; to be rid out of innumerable cares and troubles, than to be
besieged with great riches. And I doubt not that either the respect of every
man`s private commodity, or else the authority of our saviour Christ (which
for his great wisdom could not but know what were best, and for his
inestimable goodness could not but counsel to that which he knew to be best)
would have brought all the world long ago into the laws of this weal public,
if it were not that one only beast, the princess and mother of all mischief,
pride, doth withstand and let it. She measureth not wealth and prosperity by
her own commodities, but by the miseries and incommodities of other: she
would not by her good will be made a goddess, if there were no wretches left,
whom she might be lady over to mock and scorn; over whose miseries her
felicity might shine, whose poverty she might vex, torment and increase by
gorgeously setting forth her riches. This hell-hound creepeth into men`s
hearts, and plucketh them back from entering the right path of life, and is
so deeply rooted in men`s breasts, that she cannot be plucked out. This form
and fashion of a weal public, which I would gladly wish unto all nations, I
am glad yet that it hath chanced to the Utopians, which have followed those
institutions of life, whereby they have laid such foundations of their
commonwealth, as shall continue and last not only wealthily, but also, as far
as man`s wit may judge and conjecture, shall endure for ever. For seeing the
chief causes of ambition and sedition with other vices be plucked up by roots
and abandoned at home, there can be no jeopardy of domestical dissension,
which alone hath cast under foot and brought to nought the well fortified and
strongly-defenced wealth and riches of many cities. But forasmuch as perfect
concord remaineth, and wholesome laws be executed at home the envy of all
foreign princes be not able to shake or move the empire, though they have
many times long ago gone about to do it, being evermore driven back.
Thus when Raphael had made an end of his tale, though many things came to
my mind, which in the manners and laws of that people seemed to be instituted
and founded of no good reason, not only in the fashion of their chivalry, and
in their sacrifices and religions, and in other of their laws, but also, yea
and chiefly, in that which is the principal foundation of all their
ordinances, that is to say, in the community of their life and living, without
any occupying of money, by the which thing only all nobility, magnificence,
worship, honour and majesty, the true ornaments and honours, as the common
opinion is, of a commonwealth, utterly be overthrown and destroyed; yet
because I knew that he was weary of talking, and was not sure whether he could
abide that anything should be said against his mind; specially because I
remembered that he had reprehended this fault in other, which be afraid lest
they should seem not to be wise enough, unless they could find some fault in
other men`s inventions; therefore I praising both their institutions and his
communication, took him by the hand, and led him in to supper; saying that we
would choose another time to weigh and examine the same matters, and to talk
with him more at large therein. Which would to God it might once come to pass.
In the meantime, as I cannot agree and consent to all things that he said,
being else without doubt a man singularly well learned, and also in all
worldly matters exactly and profoundly experienced, so must I needs confess
and grant that many things be in the Utopian weal public, which in our cities
I may rather wish for, than hope after.
Thus endeth the afternoon`s talk of Raphael Hythloday concerning the laws
and institutions of the Island of Utopia.
Imprinted At London By Abraham Vele,
Dwelling In Paul`s Church Yard
At The Sign Of The Lamb.
Anno 1551.
To the Right Honourable Hieronymus Buslidius, Provost of Arienn, and
Councillor to the Catholic King Charles, Peter Giles, Citizen of Antwerp,
wisheth health and felicity.
Thomas More, the singular ornament of this our age, as you yourself
(right honourable Buslidius) can witness, to whom he is perfectly well known,
sent unto me this other day the Island of Utopia, to very few as yet known,
but most worthy; which, as far excelling Plato`s commonwealth, all people
should be willing to know; specially of a man most eloquent so finely set
forth, so cunningly painted out and so evidently subject to the eye, that as
oft as I read it, methinketh that I see somewhat more, than when I heard
Raphael Hythloday himself (for I was present at that talk as well as Master
More) uttering and pronouncing his own words. Yea, though the same man,
according to his pure eloquence, did so open and declare the matter, that he
might plainly enough appear, to report not things which he had learned of
others only by hearsay, but which he had with his own eyes presently seen and
thoroughly viewed, and wherein he had no small time been conversant and
abiding; a man truly, in mine opinion, as touching the knowledge of regions,
peoples, and worldly experience, much passing, yea even the very famous and
renowned traveller Ulysses; and indeed such a one, as for the space of these
eight hundred years past I think nature into the world brought not forth his
like; in comparison of whom Vespucci may be thought to have seen nothing.
Moreover, whereas we be wont more effectually and pithily to declare and
express things that we have seen, than which we have but only heard, there
was besides that in this man a certain peculiar grace, and singular dexterity
to describe and set forth a matter withal. Yet the selfsame things as oft as
I behold and consider them drawn and painted out with Master More`s pencil, I
am therewith so moved, so delighted, so inflamed, and so rapt, that sometimes
methink I am presently conversant, even in the island of Utopia. And I
promise you, I can scant believe that Raphael himself by all that five years`
space that he was in Utopia abiding, saw there so much, as here in Master
More`s description is to be seen and perceived. Which description with so
many wonders, and miraculous things is replenished, that I stand in great
doubt whereat first and chiefly to muse or marvel; whether at the excellence
of his perfect and sure memory, which could well-nigh word by word rehearse
so many things once only heard; or else at his singular prudence, who so well
and wittily marked and bare away all the original causes and fountains (to
the vulgar people commonly most unknown) whereof both issueth and springeth
the mortal confusion and utter decay of a commonwealth, and also the
advancement and wealthy state of the same may rise and grow; or else at the
efficacy and pith of his words, which in so fine a Latin style, with such
force of eloquence hath couched together and comprised so many and divers
matters, especially being a man continually encumbered with so many busy and
troublesome cares, both public and private, as he is. Howbeit all these
things cause you little to marvel (right honourable Buslidius) for that you
are familiarly and thoroughly acquainted with the notable, yea almost divine
wit of the man. But now to proceed to other matters, I surely know nothing
needful or requisite to be adjoined unto his writings, only a meter of four
verses written in the Utopian tongue, which after Master More`s departure
Hythloday by chance showed me, that have I caused to be added thereto, with
the alphabet of the same nation. For, as touching the situation of the
island, that is to say, in what part of the world Utopia standeth, the
ignorance and lace whereof not a little troubleth and grieveth Master More,
indeed Raphael left not that unspoken of. Howbeit with very few words he
lightly touched it, incidentally by the way passing it over, as meaning of
likelihood to keep and reserve that to another place. And the same, I wot not
how, by a certain evil and unlucky chance escaped us both. For when Raphael
was speaking thereof, one of Master More`s servants came to him and whispered
in his ear. Wherefore I being then of purpose more earnestly addict to hear,
one of the company, by reason of cold taken, I think, a shipboard, coughed
out so loud, that he took from my hearing certain of his words. But I will
never stint nor rest,muntil I have got the full and exact knowledge hereof;
insomuch that I will be able perfectly to instruct you, not only in the
longitude or true meridian of the island, but also in the just latitude
therof, that is to say, in the sublevation or height of the pole in that
region, if our friend Hythloday be in safety and alive. For we hear very
uncertain news of him. Some report, that he died in his journey homeward.
Some again affirm, that he returned into his country, but partly, for that he
could not away with the fashions of his country folk, and partly for that his
mind and affection was altogether set and fixed upon Utopia, they say that he
hath taken his voyage thitherward again. Now as touching this, that the name
of this is land is nowhere found among the old and ancient cosmographers,
this doubt Hythloday himself very well dissolved. For why it is possible
enough (quoth he) that the name, which it had in old time, was afterward
changed, or else that they never had knowledge of this island; forasmuch as
now in our time divers lands be found, which to the old geographers were
unknown. Howbeit, what needeth it in this behalf to fortify the matter with
arguments, seeing Master More is author hereof sufficient? But whereas he
doubteth of the edition or imprinting of the book, indeed herein I both
commend, and also acknowledge the man`s modesty. Howbeit unto me it seemeth a
work most unworthy to be long suppressed, and most worthy to go abroad into
the hands of men, yea, and under the title of your name to be published to
the world; either because the singular endowments and qualities of Master
More be to no man better known than to you, or else because no man is more
fit and meet, than you with good counsels to further and advance the
commonwealth, wherein you have many years already continued and travailed
with great glory and commendation, both of wisdom and knowledge, and also of
integrity and uprightness. Thus, O liberal supporter of good learning, and
flower of this our time, I bid you most heartily well to fare. At Antwerp
1516, the first day of November
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