Famous Utopias: Being the Complete Text of Rousseau's Social Contract, More's Utopia, Bacon's ...

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Harvard University
Francis Loeb Library
Graduate School of Design

'^^'" Walter H. Blucher

F AMOUS
UTOPIAS

FAMOUS
UTOPIAS

Being the Complete Text cf

ROUSSEAU'S SOCIAL CONTRACT

MORES UTOPIA

BACON'S NEW ATLANTIS

CAMPANELLA'S QTY OF THE SUN

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
CHARLES M. ANDREWS. Ph.D.

TUDOR PUBLISHING CO.

NBW YCXtK

HARVARD UNIVERSITY

The Library oJ tho Dcpt.

e( Gty Planning and Undjcape Af chitedui*

. / k

'dT231

COPYRIOHT. 1901.

BY

M. WALTER DUNNE.

PUBLISHER

PRtimO IN u.t.A.

INTRODUCTION

THS term Utopia, as generally used, refers to those
ideal states which are impossible of realization, both
because they are peopled by ideal human beings
uninfluenced by personal jealousies or individual passions,
and because they are based, with but little regard for
the complexities and varieties of real society, upon what
tiie writer thinks ought to be, rather than upon the col-
lective experience of mankind. More broadly speaking,
however, the term need not be confined to these * fan-
tastic pictures of impossible societies,* or * romantic ac-
counts of fictitious states,* as they have been called, but
may be applied to any social, intellectual, or political
scheme which is impracticable at the time when it is con-
ceived and presented. Thus enlarged, the field may be
made to include schemes as diverse as More's Utopia^
Campanella's City of the Sun^ Cabet's Icarie^ and Morris's
News from Nowhere; Rousseau's society of the Social
Contract; and modem socialistic and communistic organi-
zations, such as the Co-operative Commonwealth of Law-
rence GrOnlund, popularized by Bellamy in Looking
Backward^ and Fltlrcheim's Money Island,

Utopias have generally made their appearance during
periods of great social and political unrest, and it is, there-
fore, no accident that after Plato's Republic^ written dur-
ing dark days in the history of Athens, all Utopias should
have fallen in the period from the beginning of the six-
teenth century to the present time. The Middle Ages,
with their fixed institutions, their blind faith, and their
acceptance of authority were not a suitable seed-ground
for the growth of Utopian schemes. Any ideals that
were conceived were of a religious character, based upon
conceptions of the past and hopes of the future: those of

IDEAL BliPIRBS AND REPUBLICS

the past combined the pagan notion of a golden age
with the Christian's concept of an age of innocence, giv-
ing rise to the doctrine that man had fallen from a per-
fect life whose simple rules were based on natural law;
those of the future looked forward to the re-establishment
of Christ's kingdom on earth. Such doctrines were char-
acteristic of a period in which there existed no true idea
of human progress.

But in the period following the Middle Ages, when
medisval institutions were breaking down and men were
awakening to the fact that governments had become cor-
rupt and tyrannical, and social relations unjust and im-
moral, it was natural that they should find comfort and
satisfaction in casting into romantic or ideal form their
conception of what society ought to be. Excellent ex-
amples of such Utopias are to be found among the works
of sixteenth century writers, who prompted by the new
spirit of inquiry constructed ideal conditions that should
eliminate the evils of their age. The earliest, More's
Utopia (1516), presents the lofty ideals of the Oxford re-
formers, and stands as the greatest literary effort of the
time; Vives, a versatile Catholic humanist, in 1531 erected
in his De Corruptis Artibus and De Tradendis Discipliniis
an ideal academy, a pedagogical Utopia, founded on the
highest educational, scientific, and moral considerations;*
Doni in / Mundi celesti^ terrestri^ et infernali (1551-53)
satirized in Utopian form the political and social vices
of Italy; and a little later, in 1605, under the pseudonjrm,
Mercurius Britannicus, Joseph Hall, made Bishop of Nor-
wich in 1641, published a moral satire, Mundus Alter et
Idem^ in tone rather Rabelaisian than ideal*

As the seventeenth century advanced, the spirit of free
inquiry grew bolder, overthrowing the philosophy of Ar-
istotle, and leading men to study the operations of nature
in order to discover the fundamental principles that
underlay the constitution of the universe. Three writers,
in harmony with the spirit of the age, conceived philo-
sophical and intellectual Utopias, in which by means of
the new methods of scientific experimentation the social
and intellectual order was to be remodeled. Campa-

« Handbuch der PiUiagogik, VoL VII., p. 43$.

INTRODUCTION

nella, a Dominican monk of Calabria, began in 1602 his
Civitas Solis^ which he published in 1623; Bacon in the
Navus Atlantis^ written before 161 7 and published in
1627, exhibited a state of which the most striking fea-
ture was a college • instituted for the interpreting of
nature and the production of great and marvelous works
for the benefit of man;* and Comenius, after issuing his
Canatuum Pansqphicorum Dilucidatio in 1639, went to
England to form a * Universal College* for physical re-
search on the lines suggested by Bacon in the New
Atlantis.^ But in the turmoil of the Civil War the
Pansophia of Comenius was lost, and hopes of a Uni-
versal College soon vanished.

During the next hundred years political questions sup-
planted philosophical. Harrington's Oceana dedicated to
Cromwell in 1656, was not a romance, but * the first
sketch in English political science of a written constitu-
tion limiting sovereignty,* f •the only valuable model of
a commonwealth,* as Hume calls it. Hume himself, a
century later (1752), in his Essays^ Moral and Political^
Part II., commenting on Plato, More, and Harrington,
presented his • Idea of a Perfect Commonwealth,* and be-
lieved that in his Utopia he had discovered a form of
government to which he himself could not in theory
formulate 'any considerable objection.*

In France also, writers were coming forward with
schemes of a perfect government Vairasse d'Allais, in
La Ripublique des Sivarambes^ a part of his Histoire des
Sivarambes^ 1672, pictured a monarchy, with the state
owning land and wealth and the people dwelling in huge
osmasies like Fourier's phalansthres. F€n€lon in Book X.
of the TiUmaque^ which contains his account of the
kingdom of Salente, described a perfect state under the
authority of a perfect king.

But Utopias advocating monarchy are rare. With the
realization of the evils of the state system of the eight-
eenth century, thought took a new direction. Morelly
in Naufrage des Ues flottantes ou la Basiliade de Pilpai^
1753, declared that the existing conditions were corrupt,

^Keatinga: The Great Didactic of Comenius^ p*45*
t Dwight in « Political Science {Quarterly** i8S7» p. 17.

IDEAL EMPIRES AND REPUBLICS

attacked the law of property, and tried to demonstrate
the necessity of placing society under the law of nature
and truth, — ideas more fully developed in his Code de la
Nature^ 1755. This appeal to the law of nature showed
the prevailing political concept of the period. The eyes
of the reformers were now turned to the natural princi-
ples of social order and government, and in 1762 Rous-
seau gave to the world, in the Contrat Social his scheme
of the state founded on social compact. Mably went
further than Rousseau, and in his various writings from
1765 to 1784 denounced private property, inheritance and
right of bequest, commerce, credit, the arts and sciences,
libraries, museums, and the like. Finding his ideal
among the Greeks, he viewed the Spartan era as a
golden age, and extolled poverty as the mother of frugality
and the virtues. He preached not only equality and
equal education for all, but a federal state and commu-
nity of goods. If Rousseau inspired Robespierre and St
Just, it is equally true that Mably and Pechm^ja {Tiliphe^
1784) inspired Marat, Babceuf, and Buonarrotti. Although
during the French Revolution men acted rather than
dreamed, yet in the teachings of Mar^chal, Marat, and
the Girondist Brissot de Warville, and in the speeches
of St Just and Robespierre, we find embodied Utopian
ideals regarding man and his fundamental rights. The
adoption of the constitution of 1793 was as truly an at-
tempt to found a Utopia as was the forming of the
* Society of Equals,^ through which Baboeuf hoped to
hasten a communistic millenium.

The French Revolution so shattered society that
writers of Utopias, who before had had little real ex-
pectation of seeing their theories applied, now worked
to remodel the social and industrial order. The fol-
lowers of St Simon established an experimental com-
munity in 1826; in 1840 a phalansthre of Fourier was set
up at Brook Farm in America; at New Lanark, before
the close of the eighteenth century, Robert Owen had
tried his economic Utopia, and in 1825 was experiment-
ing at New Harmony in Pennsylvania. In 1848 great
national workshops were set up in Paris; and in Algiers
Marshal Bugeaud endeavored to establish a military

INTRODUCTION

colony on a communistic basis. Q^bet copied More's
Utopia in his Voyage en Icarie^ and gave it a better
trial at Nauvoo in Illinois in 1849 than had Frank, Miin-
ster, and MUnzer in Germany in the sixteenth century.
But after Cabet's Icarie^ except in a few cases s.uch as
Lytton's Coming Race^ Bellamy's Looking Backward^ and
Secr6tan's Mon Utopie, which were little more than lit-
erary pastimes, and such experimental communities as
the Christian Commonwealth near Columbus, Georgia, and
the Ruskin Colony in the same state, both of which have
failed, the history of Utopias is the history of scientific
socialism, and is not to be dealt with here.

Of all the Utopias the most famous are the four
selected for presentation in this volume, for not only
are they great' creations of the imagination, but they
stand in the first rank of literary productions; and two
of them, those of More and Rousseau, have surpassed
all others in influence. The work of More is further
distinguished by the fact that it was the 'first of the
modem productions of the kind, and also the first to
bear the familiar title of Utopia. Sir Thomas More
was bom in 1478. He early became a student of law
and the new learning, and though his later years were
spent in the practice of law, diplomacy, and statecraft,
he remained to the end of his life devoted to learning
and religion. That he was a keen observer of the social
conditions of his time the Utopia proves; for it con-
tains not only a picture of an ideal community, but a
severe indictment of the disorders attending the great
social and economic transformation from an agricultural
to an industrial and commercial state through which
England was passing. New conditions of industry and
commerce had made impossible the retention of the old
manorial system; villenage was disappearing and the vil-
leins were becoming copy-holders; agriculture was ceasing
to be profitable under the old methods; money was tak-
ing the place of payments in kind; and the dispersion
of the manorial tenantry was increasing vagabondage and
the number of the unemployed. The old towns, too, like
Norwich, Exeter, York, Winchester, and Southampton,
with their narrow gild restrictions were falling into

IDEAL EMPIRES AND REPUBLICS

decay, and were making way for new industrial centers
like Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds, and Sheffield.
More important still was the introduction, in many of
the counties, of the inclosure system. Landlords, dis-
covering that farming was more profitable when done on
a large scale, and that sheep raising brought even larger
returns than agriculture, turned arable lands into pasture,
thus depopulating the old villages, setting adrift large
number of villeins to find work wherever they could, and
bringing great distress and misery to the people. Such
were the conditions that inspired More in his Utopia^ t^e
first book of which is a treatise on the evils of the time.

The second book of the Utopia presents as a remedy
for all ills an ideal state in which there are no drones
and of which the key-note is moderation. With the ex-
ception of the very learned, the inhabitants of the new
state are all producers, who devote six hours of each
day to labor and the remaining to social and intellectual
pleasures; who avoid war and all luxuries; and whose
king, chosen by themselves and for life, lives like a
common citizen, governing not in the interest of the few,
but for the happiness of the many. In his treatment of
labor, questions of criminal law, education, public health,
and freedom of speech, More strikes a very modem note;
but though he showed himself, like the other Oxford re-
formers, a lover of liberty, justice, truth, and toleration,
and though he rose to be Chancellor of England, he made
no effort to apply as a politician the doctrines he had
advanced as a philosopher. Possibly, as Master of the
Court of Requests, or Court of Poor Men's Causes, he
may have dispensed the justice of the Utopia j but in
other matters, notably that of religion, he did not in
practice rise to the height he had attained in his thought
He opposed Lutheranism, and while not persecuting the
Protestants, as has been charged, battled with heresy till
his death. In fact, the second book of the Utopia at its
best but reflects the character of a noble man, whose mind
revolted against the injustice and inequalities of his age.

Both Campanella's City of the Sun and Bacon's New
Atlantis^ notwithstanding their differences in setting
and treatment, represent an awakened interest in a new

INTRODUCTION

philosophy. Unlike Sir Thomas More, neither Campa- r
nellanor Bacon concerned himself much with the economic
or social questions of his time. Campanella was from
boyhood a student of logic and physics. Bacon, led partly
by personal inclination, and partly by the fact that in the
greater prosperity of the age of Elizabeth, social condi-
tions had become less exigent, turned his attention to
politics and philosophy. The crisis reflected in the Uto- i
pias of these writers were, therefore, revolutions, not in ' ^
society, but in philosophical thought and method. In-
fluenced by Bemhard Telesius (1508-88), the great Ital-
ian opponent of the doctrines of Aristotle, Campanella,
like Bacon saw the need of a fundamental reform of
natural philosophy, and the substitution for analogies and
abstract generalizations of the sounder method of exact
observation. Unwilling to employ principles established
arbitrarily, they based all conclusions on careful and scien-
tific experimentation. Before Campanella was twenty-five
years old he had published a series of works supporting
the contention that men can understand the world only
through the senses. Bacon, bom in 1561, seven years
earlier than Campanella, although from boyhood eager to
accomplish by means of a new philosophy something of
practical benefit for humanity, was slower in publishing
his views. Whereas the City of the Sun^ written after
the De Sensu Rerum^ Philosophia Sensibus Demonstrata^
and De Investigatione Rerum^ presents a social and
philosophical scheme worked out in minute detail, the
New Atlantis^ written before the publication of the
Novum Organum and the Instauratio Magna^ is but
a sketch of the results Bacon would like to have at-
tained, rather than a demonstration of the methods nec-
essary for their attainment. Campanella's work is, so far
as it goes, complete; Bacon's is only a fragment which
probably he never intended to perfect.

Campanella, bom in southern Calabria in 1568, became
at a very early age a Dominican monk and was interested
rather in physics than in theology. By attacking the
prevailing Aristotelian philosophy, he soon roused ene-
mies against him, and was imprisoned on the charge of
conspiring to overthrow the Kingdom of Naples and found

IDEAL EMPIRES AND REPUBLICS

a republic. He was seven times tortured during twenty-
seven years of confinement in fifty di£Eerent prisons, and
was often deprived of the means of study and writing.
After his release in 1626, he withdrew to France; and
in 1639, died in a convent of his order. The Civitas
Salts seu idea reipublicae philosophioBy written in prison,
is believed to have been the beginning of a large work,
of which the first part was to deal with the laws of
nature, the second with the manners and customs of men,
the third with the organization of the state, the fourth
with the economic bases of society, it was, as Campanella
himself says, the counterpart of Plato's Republie^ and on
its scientific side was based on Telesius. It formulated
for the first time a complete socialistic system on a scien-
tific foundation,* and, in France especially, furnished a
model for later ideal communities.

The city with its seven walls, its compact organization,
its carefully divided labors, and rigorous discipline reflect
the monastic experiences of the writer; but the principles,
in accordance with which the state is governed, the
social relation determined, and industry controlled, are
such as to interest men in all ages. Collectively, the
inhabitants labor for the common good; individually, each
seeks the perfecting of his body and soul, the care of
the young children, and the worship of God. Govern-
ment is intrusted to the wisest and ablest, and laws are
made and administered only so far as they promote the
object for which all are laboring. The essences of life
are equality, sacrifice of self for the community, the
banishment of egotism; and peculiar features are the com-
munity of wives and goods, common meals, state control
of produce, and of children after a certain age, dislike of
commercial exchange, depreciation of money, love of all
for manual labor, and the high regard which all show for
intellectual and artistic pursuits. It is a remarkable fact
that in spite of Campanella's sufferings his work should
not only show no trace of bitterness, but should main-
tain consistently the loftiest ideals.

Less purely Utopian in conception than the City of the
Sun is Bacon's Atlantis, and almost entirely wanting is

*Sigwart, Kleine Sehrtften, p. 151.

INTRODUCTION

it in the communistic extravagances of Campanella's work.
It contains an expression of the scientific views of Bacon
and his opinion regarding the duty of the state toward
science. More than this it describes his tastes in conduct
and dress, and is characterized by a spirit of hospitality,
kindliness, and courtesy, which betrays his sympathetic
nature. As has been well said ^ there is no single work
of his which has so much of himself in it.* Unlike More,
who would limit the population, Bacon, as the institutions
of the Tirsan shows, would have families large; and
unlike other writers of his age, he gives a prominent part
and attractive character to Joabin, a Jew. But the chief
interest of the author centers in Solomon's House, the
College of the Six Days Works, a state institution governed
by an official body, and founded for the purpose of dis-
covering *the causes and secret motions of things.* Here
Bacon gives a list of those experiments and observations,
which he hoped would increase knowledge, ameliorate
the conditions of life, improve the physical well-being of
man, and enlarge the bounds of the human empire. In
medicine, surgery, meteorology, food, and mechanical
contrivances he anticipates many of the improvements
of later times. It has been generally supposed that ^ this
noblest foundation that ever was on earth * suggested
the foundation and program of the Royal Society in
England and of similar societies abroad.

From Campanella and Bacon to Rousseau is a long
reach not only in time, but in thought also; and noth-
ing could be more foreign to the philosophy advocated
by the earlier writers than the a priori methods of Rous-
seau, and his disregard of history, observation, and in-
duction. Taking ideas that had been floating about in
Europe for two centuries, he presented them, with great
charm and vigor of style, as a set of positive principles
governing the organization of the state. Nor did he in-
vent an island of Utopia, a City of the Sun, or a far away
Atlantis in which to apply his principles, but he declared
that they were capable of universal application, and that
they indicated what every government would be if it were
stripped of the artificial garb of civilization. His vague
generalizations and impracticable doctrines were the more

IDEAL EMPIRES AND REPUBLICS

effective because not embodied in a romantic form, for
each doctrine applied directly to the man who read it
and was applied by him to the state that was oppressing^
him. Rousseau fascinated the multitude because he
seemed to appeal, not to their imagination, but to their
reason, and seemed to say that the state of the Social
Contract was what France ought to be and might be,
if only the people of France had their rights.

The central idea of the Social Contract is the abso-
lute authority of the people. Rousseau declares that the
existing situation is but a degeneration from a more per-
fect order, when man, bom free, was possessed of natural
liberty and governed by natural law; and that this de-
generation had begun when man exchanged natural lib-
erty for civil liberty, and natural law for positive law.
Rousseau further holds that government and the state
are the result of a social compact, a common agreement
between individuals who voluntarily yield themselves to
be subject to the common will ; that such body politic is
composed of equal members possessed of absolute author-
ity; that sovereignty residing in the people can neither
be delegated to representatives nor modified by contract
with a king; and that the will of the majority, as ex-
pressed by universal suffrage, determines the form thi
government should take, and can at any time change tht
government if it desires. The result of such ideas was to
lead the people to believe that existing institutions had
no right to exist; that sovereignty rightfully belonged not
to the king but to them; and that a government which
had usurped sovereignty could be set aside.

But Rousseau's Utopia was based on four fallacies: first,
the essential goodness of man; secondly, the original free-
dom and equality of man; thirdly, the possession by man
of inherent political rights; and fourthly, the compact
between individuals as the basis of the State Yet its
doctrines found a firm rooting among the people of the
period after Rousseau, both in France and in America,
and rights of man and an original compact became the
shibboleths of statesmen for half a century Rousseau's
Utopia, unlike the ideal states that had gone before, ap-
pealed to the masses of the people already ripe for revo-

INTRODUCTION

Itition, became a standard around which they were to rally,
an article of faith for which they were to fight. In tlda
respect, the Social Contract is no longer a Utopia, but
a creed, of that class to which Calvin's Institutes be-
long . With the rise of the historical school, however, its
doctrines have vanished, much as did those of Aristotle
before the attacks of Campanella and Bacon. Latter-day
Utopias are not founded on a /rii^i deductions; they gen-
erally have a scientific basis.

The systematic study of Utopias cannot but be fruit-
ful of results. Fantastic though many of the systems are,
each is nevertheless a mirror of the prevailing thought of
the period in which it is written and a key to the ideals
of the best men. To write properly the history of Uto-
pias from the time of Sir Thomas More to the present
is to write the history of the progress of human thought
in the last five centuries.

^.^ f •^^^-^^A-A/uTj

CONTENTS

ROUSSEAU'S SOCIAL CONTRACT

Prkfatory Notb t

Introductory Notb to Book 1 3

BOOK I.

CBAP.

I. SUBJBCT OF THB FiRST BoOK 4

II. Primitivb Societibs 4

IIL Thb Right op thb Strongbst 6

IV. Slavery 7

V. That It Is Always Nbcbssary to Go Back to a First

Convention xa

VI. The Social Pact 13

VII. Thb Sovereign ts

VIII. The Civil State 17

IX. Real Property z8

BOOK II.

L That Sovbrbignty Is Inalienablb az

II. That Sovereignty Is Indivisible 99

III. Whether the Genbral Will Can Err 34

IV. The Limits op the Sovereign Power as

V The Right op Lipb and Death 39

VI. The Law 31

VII. The Legislator . • • . 34

VIII. The Pbople 37

IX. The Peoplb (continued) 39

X. The People (continued) 4a

XI. The Dipfbrbnt Systems of Legislation 45

XII. Division op the Laws 47

BOOK III.

I. Govbrnmbnt IK Genbral 49

II. The Principlb which CoNSTrruTBS thb Different

Forms op Government 54

III. Classification of Govbrnmbnts . 57

IV. Democracy 58

V. Aristocracy • 60

IDEAL EMPIRES AND REPUBLICS

PAOh

VI. Monarchy 63

VII. MiXKD GovBRMMiim 68

VIII. That Evbry Form or Govbrnment Is Not Pit for

EvBRY Country 69

IX. Thb Marks op a Good Goyernmbnt 74

X. Thb Abuse of thb Govbrnmrnt and Its Tbndbncy to

Dbgbnbratb . ... 76

XI. Thb Dissolution of thb Body Politic ..... 78

XII. How thb Sovbrbign Authority Is Maintained . . • 79
Kill. How the Sovereign Authority Is Maintained (con*

tinned) 80

XIV. How THE Soyrrbion Authority Is Maintained (con-
tinued) 8s

XV. Deputies or Representatives 83

XVI. That the Institution of the Government Is Not a

Contract 86

XVII. The Institution of the Government 88

XVIII, Means OF PRBVBirmfG Usurpations of the GovBRNMsirr. 89

BOOK IV.

I. That the General Will Is Indestructible .... 91

II. Voting 94

III. Elections 97

IV. The Roman Comitia 99

V. The Tribuneship 109

VI. The Dictatorship •••••. iii

VIL The Censorship 114

VIII. Civil Religion ziS

IX. Conclusion ia6

SIR THOMAS MORE'S UTOPIA

Book 1 199

Book II z68

Of The Towns of Utopia, Particularly of Amaurot . . 165

Of Their Magistrates 167

Of Their Trade, and Manner of Life 168

Of Their Traffic 173

Of the Traveling of the Utopians 178

Of Their Slaves and of Their Marriages 198

Of Their Military Discipline 906

Of the Religions of the Utopians 21s

LORD FRANCIS BACON'S NEW ATLANTIS . . • . «35

THOMAS CAMPANELLA'S CITY OP THE SUN ..^71

PREFATORY NOTE

•

This little treatise is extracted from a larger work
undertaken at an earlier time without consideration of my
capacity, and long since abandoned. Of the various
fragments that might be selected from what was accom-
plished, the following is the most considerable and ap-
pears to me the least unworthy of being offered to the
public. The rest of the work is no longer in existence.

f (X)

J

BOOK I.

INTRODUCTORY NOTE.

I WISH to inquire whether, taking men as they are and
laws as they can be made, it is possible to establish some
jnst and certain rule of administration in civil affairs.
In this investigation I shall always strive to reconcile
what right permits with what interest prescribes^ so that
justice and utility may not be severed.

I enter upon this inquiry without demonstrating the
importance of my subject. I shall be asked whether I
am a prince or a legislator that I write on politics. I
reply that I am not; and that it is for this very reason
that I write on politics. If I were a prince or a legis-
lator^ I should not waste my time in saying what ought
to be done; I should do it or remain silent.

Having been bom a citizen of a free State,* and a
member of the sovereign body, however feeble an in-
fluence my voice may have in public affairs, the right to
vote upon them is sufficient to impose on me the duty
of informing myself about them; and I feel happy, when-
ever I meditate on governments, always to discover in my
researches new reasons for loving that of my own country.

* Roossean, bom at Geneva in 1712, was a cmzsN, that is, ^ member
of the sovereign body enjoying full political rights. He was proud of
his membership of this close aristocracy. Rousseau believed that the
SoaAL CoNTEACT would be well received in his native city on account of
the praise bestowed on aristocratic government ; but the work was burned,
and in 1763 he renounced his citizenship — Ed.

(3)

CHAPTER I.
Subject of the Fmsx Book.

Man is bom free, and everywhere he is in chains.
Many a one believes himself the master of others, and
yet he is a greater slave than they. How has this change
come about ? I do not know. What can render it legiti-
mate ? I believe that t can settle this question.

If I considered only force and the results that proceed
from it, I should say that so long as a people is compelled
to obey and does obey, it does well; but that, so soon as
it can shake ofiE the yoke and does shake it ofiE, it does
better; for, if men recover their freedom by virtue of the
same right by which it was taken away, either they are
justified in resuming it, or there was no justification for
depriving them of it. But the social order is a sacred
right which serves as a foundation for all others. This
right, however, does not come from nature. It is there-
fore based on conventions. The question is to know what
these conventions are. Before coming to that, I must
establish what I have just laid down.

CHAPTER II.

Primitive Societies.

The earliest of all societies,* and the only natural one,
is the family; yet children remain attached to their father
only so long as they have need of him for their own
preservation. As soon as this need ceases, the natural
bond is dissolved. The children being freed from the
obedience which they owed to their father, and the father
from the cares which he owed to his children, become
equally independent. If they remain united, it is no

* Rousseau's endeavor in chapterB 2 to 4 is to establish that f reeborn
men have fallen into slavery. — Ed.
(4)

PRIMITIVE SOCIETIES S

longer natnrally but volutitarily; and the family itself is
kept together only by convention.

This common liberty is a consequence of man's nature.
His first law is to attend to his own preservation, his
first cares are those which he owes to himself; and as
soon as he comes to years of discretion, being sole judge
of the means adapted for his own preservation, he be-
comes his own master.

The family is, then, if you will, the primitive model of
political societies ; the chief is the analogue of the father,
while the people represent the children; and all, being
bom free and equal, alienate their liberty only for their
own advantage. The whole diflEerence is that, in the
family, the father's love for his children repays him for
the care that he bestows upon them ; while, in the State,
the pleasure of ruling makes up for the chief's lack of
love for his people.

Grotius* denies that all human authority is established
for the benefit of the governed, and he cites slavery as
an instance. His invariable mode of reasoning is to
establish right by fact. A juster method might be em-
ployed, but none more favorable to tyrants.

It is doubtful, then, according to Grotius, whether the
human race belongs to a hundred men, or whether these
hundred men belong to the human race; and he appears
throughout his book to incline to the former opinion,
which is also that of Hobbes. In this way we have man-
kind divided like herds of cattle, each of which has a
master, who looks after it in order to devour it.

Just as a herdsman is superior in nature to his herd,
so chiefs, who are the herdsmen of men, are superior in
nature to their people. Thus, according to Philo's ac-
cotmt, the Emperor Caligula reasoned, inferring truly
enough from this analogy that kings are gods, or that
men are brutes.

The reasoning of Caligula is tantamount to that of
Hobbes and Grotius. Aristotle, before them all, had

•Grotius (b. 1582, <L 1645). See Book I. 3 of his De Jure Belli et
Pads. HaUaxn {Lit. of Europe^ III, 4) denies that Grotius confounded
right with fact, though he concedes that the latter*s theological prejudices
led him to carry too far the principle of obedience to government — Ed.

6 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

likewise said that men are not naturally equal, but that
some are bom for slavery and others for dominion.

Aristotle was right, but he mistook the efiEect for the
cause. Every man bom in slavery is bom for slavery;
nothing is more certain. Slaves lose everything in their
bonds, even the desire to escape from them; they love
their servitude as the companions of Ulysses loved their
brutishness. If, then, there are slaves by nature, it is
because there have been slaves contrary to nature. The
first slaves were made such by force; their cowardice
kept them in bondagfe.

I have said nothing about King Adam nor about Em*
peror Noah, the father of three great monarchs who shared
the universe, like the children of Saturn with whom they
are supposed to be identical. I hope that my modera-
tion will give satisfaction; for, as I am a direct descend-
ant of one of these princes, and perhaps of the eldest
branch, how do I know whether, by examination of titles,
I might not find myself the lawful king of the human
race ? Be that as it may, it cannot be denied that Adam
was sovereign of the world, as Robinson was of his island,
so long as he was its sole inhabitant; and it was an agreea-
ble feature of that empire that the monarch, secure on
his throne, had nothing to fear from rebellions, or wars,
or conspirators.

CHAPTER III.

The Right of the Strongest.

The strongest man is never strong enough to be always
master, unless he transforms his power into right, and
obedience into duty. Hence the right of the strongest —
a right apparently assumed in irony, and really estab'
lished in principle. But will this phrase never be ex-
plained to us? Force is a physical power; I do not see
what morality can result from its eflEects. To yield to
force is an act of necessity, not of will; it is at most an
act of prudence. In what sense can it be a duty ?

SLAVERY 7

Let us assume for a moment this pretended right I
say that nothing results from it but inexplicable non-
sense; for if force constitutes right, the effect changes
with the cause, and any force which overcomes the first
succeeds to its rights. As soon as men can disobey with
impunity, they may do so legitimately; and since the
strongest is always in the right, the only thing is to act
in such a way that one may be the strongest. But what
sort of a right is it that perishes when force ceases ? If
it is necessary to obey by compulsion, there is no need
to obey from duty; and if men are no longer forced to
obey, obligation is at an end. We see then, that this
word RIGHT adds nothing to force; it here means nothing
at alL

Obey the powers that be. If that means, Yield to
force, the precept is good but superfluous; I reply that it
will never be violated. All power comes from God, I
admit; but every disease comes from him too; does it
follow that we are prohibited from calling in a physi-
cian? If a brigand should surprise me in the recesses
of a wood, am I bound not only to give up my purse
when forced, but am I also morally bound to do so when
I might conceal it? For, in effect, the pistol which he
holds is a superior force.

Let us agree, then, that might does not make right,
and that we are bound to obey none but lawful authori-
ties. Thus my original question ever recurs.

CHAPTER IV.
Slavery.

Sings no man has any natural authority over his fellow-
men, and since force is not the source of right, conven-
tions remain as the basis of all lawful authority among
men.^

* Having shown that political anthority does not spring from the law
of nature, and that force is not a source of right, Rousseau reverts
to his statement in chapter I. that all lawful authority rests on oon^
ventions, and he now proceeds to consider what conventions are
legitimata— (Ed.)

8 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

If an individualy says Grotins, can alienate his liberty
and become the slave of a master, why should not a
whole people be able to alienate theirs, and become sub-
ject to a king? In this there are many equivocal terms
requiring explanation ; but let us confine ourselves to the
word ALIENATE. To alienate is to give or selL Now, a
man who becomes another's slave does not give himself;
he sells himself at the very least for his subsistence.
But why does a nation sell itself ? So far from a king
supplying his subjects with their subsistence, he draws
his from them; and, according to Rabelais, a king does
not live on a little. Do subjects, then, give up their
persons on condition that their property also shall be
taken? I do not see what is left for them to keep.

It will be said that the despot secures to his subjects
civil peace. Be it so; but what do they gain by that, if
the wars which his ambition brings upon them, together
with his insatiable greed and the vexations of his ad-
ministration, harass them more than their own dissen-
sions would ? What do they gain by it if this tranquillity
is itself one of their miseries ? Men live tranquilly also
in dungeons; is that enough to make them contented
there ? The Greeks confined in the cave of the Cyclops
lived peacefully until their turn came to be devoured.

To say that a man gives himself for nothing is to say
what is absurd and inconceivable ; such an act is illegiti*
mate and invalid, for the simple reason that he who per-
forms it is not in his right mind. To say the same thing
of a whole nation is to suppose a nation of fools; and
madness does not confer rights.

Even if each person could alienate himself, he could
not alienate his children; they are bom free men; their
liberty belongs to them, and no one has a right to dis-
pose of it except themselves. Before they have come to
years of discretion, the father can, in their name, stipu-
late conditions for their preservation and welfare, but
not surrender them irrevocably and unconditionally; for
such a gift is contrary to the ends of nature, and exceeds
the rights of paternity. In order, then, that an arbitrary
government might be legitimate, it would be necessary
that the people in each generation should have the option

SLAVERY 9

of accepting or rejecting it; but in that case snch a gov-
ernment wonld no longer be arbitrary.

To renounce one's liberty is to renounce one's quality
as a man, the rights and also the duties of humanity.
For him who renounces everything there is no possible
compensation. Such a renunciation is incompatible with
man's nature, for to take away all freedom from his will
is to take away all morality from his actions. In short,
a convention which stipulates absolute authority on the
one side and unlimited obedience on the other is vain and
contradictory. Is it not clear that we are under no obli-
gations whatsoever toward a man from whom we have
a right to demand everything ? And does not this single
condition, without equivalent, without exchange, involve
the nullity of the act ? For what right would my slave
have against me, since all that he has belongs to me?
His rights being mine, this right of mc against myself
is a meaningless phrase.

Grotius and others derive from war another origin for
the pretended right of slavery. The victor having, accord-
ing to them, the right of slaying the vanquished, the
latter may purchase his life at the cost of his freedom;
an agreement so much the more legitimate that it turns
to the advantage of both.

But it is manifest that this pretended right of slaying
the vanquished in no way results from the state of war.
Men are not naturally enemies, if only for the reason
that, living in their primitive independence, they have
no mutual relations sufficiently durable to constitute a
state of peace or a state of war. It is the relation of
things and not of men which constitutes war; and since
the state of war cannot arise from simple personal relations,
but only from real relations, private war — war between
man and man — cannot exist either in the state of nature,
where there is no settled ownership, or in the social state
where everything is under the authority of the laws.

Private combats, duels, and encounters are acts which
do not constitute a state of war; and with regard to the
private wars authorized by the Establishments of Louis
IX., king of France, and suspended by the Peace of God,
they were abuses of the feudal government, an absurd

lo THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

system if ever there was one, contrary both to the
principles of natural right and to all sound government.

War, then, is not a relation between man and man, but
a relation between State and State, in which individuals
are enemies only by accident, not as men, nor even as
citizens, but as soldiers; not as members of the father-
land, but as its defenders. In short, each State can have
as enemies only other States and not individual men,
inasmuch as it is impossible to fix any true relation
between things of different kinds.

This principle is also conformable to the established
maxims of all ages and to the invariable practice of all
civilized nations. Declarations of war are not so much
warnings to the powers as to their subjects. The for-
eigner, whether king, or nation, or private person, that
robs, slays, or detains subjects without declaring war
against the government, is not an enemy, but a brigand.
Even in open war, a just prince, while he rightly takes
possession of all that belongs to the State in an enemy's
country, respects the person and property of individuals;
he respects the rights on which his own are based. The
aim of war being the destruction of the hostile State, we
have a right to slay its defenders so long as they have
arms in their hands; but as soon as they lay them down
and surrender, ceasing to be enemies or instruments of the
enemy, they become again simply men, and no one has
any further right over their lives. Sometimes it is possi-
ble to destroy the State without killing a single one of its
members; but war confers no right except what is neces-
sary to its end. These are not the principles of Grotius;*
they are not based on the authority of poets, but are
derived from the nature of things, and are founded on
reason.

With regard to the right of conquest, it has no other
foundation than the law of the strongest. If war does
not confer on the victor the right of slaying the van-

*G&OTn7s treats of declarations of war in De Jure III. 3- The
reference to the authority of poets is a sneer at Grotius, borrowed
probably from Hobbes (Review and Conclusion) and Locke I. ii.
Mackintosh and Hallam have defended Grotius by pointing out that he
quotes poets as witnesses, not as authorities.— Ed.

SLAVERY II

qtiished, this right, which he does not possess, cannot be
the foundation of a right to enslave them. If we have
a right to slay an enemy only when it is impossible to
enslave him, the right to enslave him is not derived from
the right to kill him; it is, therefore, an iniquitous bar-
gain to make him purchase his life, over which the victor
has no right, at the cost of his liberty. In establishing
the right of life and death upon the right of slavery,
and the right of slavery upon the right of life and death,
is it not manifest that one falls into a vicious circle ?

Even if we grant this terrible right of killing every-
body, I say that a slave made in war, or a conquered
nation, is under no obligation at all to a master, except
to obey him so far as compelled. In taking an equiva-
lent for his life the victor has conferred no favor on the
slave; instead of killing him unprofitably, he has de-
stroyed him for his own advantage. Far, then, from
having acquired over him any authority in addition to
that of force, the state of war subsists between them as
before, their relation even is the effect of it; and the
exercise of the rights of war supposes that there is no
treaty of peace. They have made a convention. Be it
so; but this convention, far from terminating the state
of war, supposes its continuance.

Thus, in whatever way we regard things, the right of
slavery is invalid, not only because it is illegitimate, but
because it is absurd and meaningless. These terms, slavery
and RIGHT, are contradictory and mutually exclusive.
Whether addressed by a man to a man, or by a man to
a nation, such a speech as this will always be equally
foolish: *I make an agreement with you wholly at your
expense and wholly for my benefit, and I shall observe
it as long as I please, while you also shall observe it as
long as I please.*

CHAPTER V.

That It Is Always Necessary to Go Back to a First
Convention.

If I should concede all that I have so far refuted, those
who favor despotism would be no farther advanced.
There wUl always be a great difference between subduing
a multitude and ruling a society. When isolated men,
however numerous they may be, are subjected one after
another to a single person, this seems to me only a case
of master and slaves, not of a nation and its chief; they
form, if you will, an aggregation, but not an association,
for they have neither public property nor a body politic.
Such a man, had he enslaved half the world, is never any-
thing but an individual; his interest, separated from that
of the rest, is never anything but a private interest. If
he dies, his empire after him is left disconnected and dis-
united, as an oak dissolves and becomes a heap of ashes
after the fire has consumed it.

A nation, says Grotius, can give itself to a king. Ac-
cording to Grotius, then, a nation is a nation before it
gives itself to a king. This gift itself is a civil act, and
presupxx>ses a public resolution. Consequently, before ex-
amining the act by which a nation elects a king, it would
be proper to examine the act by which a nation becomes
a nation; for this act, being necessarily anterior to the
other, is the real foundation of the society.

In fact, if there were no anterior convention, where,
unless the election were unanimous, would be the obliga-
tion upon the minority to submit to the decision of the
majority? And whence do the hundred who desire a
master derive the right to vote on behalf of ten who do
not desire one ? The law of the plurality of votes is itself
established by convention, and presupposes unanimity once
at least
(xa)

CHAPTER VL
The Social Pact.

I ASSUME that men have reached a point at which
the obstacles that endanger their preservation in the
state of nature overcome by their resistance the forces
which each individual can exert with a view to main-
taining himself in that state. Then this primitive condi-
tion cannot longer subsist, and the human race would
perish unless it changed its mode of existence.

Now as men cannot create any new forces, but only
combine and direct those that exist, they have no other
means of self-preservation than to form by aggregation
a sum of forces which may overcome the resistance,
to put them in action by a single motive power, and
to make them work in concert.

This sum of forces can be produced only by the com-
bination of many; but the strength and freedom of each
man being the chief instruments of his preservation,
how can he pledge them without injuring himself, and
without neglecting the cares which he owes to him-
self ? This difficulty, applied to my subject, may be ex-
pressed in these terms: —

*To find a form of association which may defend and
protect with the whole force of the community the per-
son and property of every associate, and by means of
which, coalescing with all, may nevertheless obey only
himself, and remain as free as before.* Such is the
fundamental problem of which the social contract fur-
nishes the solution.

The clauses of this contract are so determined by the
nature of the act that the slightest modification would
render them vain and ineffectual; so that, although they
have never perhaps been formally enunciated, they are
everywhere the same, everywhere tacitly admitted and
recognized, until, the social pact being violated, each
man regains his original rights and recovers his natural
liberty while losing the conventional liberty for which
he renounced it

/u)

U THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

These clauses, rightly understood, are reducible to one
only, viz, the total alienation to the whole community
of each associate with all his rights; for, in the first
place, since each gives himself up entirely, the condi-
tions are equal for all; and, the conditions being eqtial
for all, no one has any interest in making them burden-
some to others.

Further, the alienation being made without reserve,
the union is as perfect as it can be, and an individual
associate can no longer claim anything; for, if any rights
were left to individuals, since there would be no common
superior who could judge between them and the public,
each, being on some point his own judge, would soon
claim to be so on all ; the state of nature would still sub-
sist, and the association would necessarily become tyran-
nical or useless.

In short, each giving himself to all, gives himself to
nobody; and as there is not one associate over whom we
do not acquire the same rights which we concede to him
over ourselves, we gain the equivalent of all that we lose,
and more power to preserve what we have.

If, then, we set aside what is not of the essence of the
social contract, we shall find that it is reducible to the
following terms: •Each of us puts in common his per-
son and his whole power under the supreme direction of
the general will ; and in return we receive every member
as an indivisible part of the whole. ^

Forthwith, instead of the individual personalities of all
the contracting parties, this act of association produces a
moral and collective body, which is composed of as many
members as the assembly has voices, and which receives
from this same act its unity, its common self {nioi)^ its
life, and its will. This public person, which is thus
formed by the union of all the individual members, for-
merly took the name of city, and now takes that of re-
public or BODY POLITIC, which is called by its members
State when it is passive, sovereign when it is active,
POWER when it is compared to similar bodies. With re-
gard to the asssociates, they take collectively the name
of PEOPLE, and are called individually citizens, as par-
ticipating in the sovereign power, and subjects, as sub*

THE SOVEREIGN 15

jected to the laws of the State. But these terms are
often confused and are mistaken one for another; it is
sufficient to know how to distinguish them when they
are used with complete precision.

CHAPTER VIL
The Sovereign.

Wb sex from this formula that the act of association
contains a reciprocal engagement between the public and
individuals, and that every individual, contracting so to
speak with himself, is engaged in a double relation, vis,
as a member of the sovereign toward individuals, and as
a member of the State toward the sovereign. But we
cannot apply here the maxim of civil law that no one is
bound by engagements made with himself; for there is
a great difference between being bound to oneself and
to a whole of which one forms part.

We must further observe that the public resolution
which can bind all subjects to the sovereign in conse-
quence of the two different relations under which each
of them is regarded cannot, for a contrary reason, bind
the sovereign to itself; and that accordingly it is con-
trary to the nature of the body politic for the sovereign
to impose on itself a law which it cannot transgress. As
it can only be considered under one and the same rela-
tion, it is in the position of an individual contracting with
himself; whence we see that there is not, nor can be,
any kind of fundamental law binding upon the body of
the people, not even the social contract. This does not
imply that such a body cannot perfectly well enter into
engagements with others in what does not derogate from
this contract; for, with regard to foreigners, it becomes a
simple being, an individual.

But the body politic or sovereign, deriving its exist-
ence only from the sanctity of the contract, can never
bind itself, even to others, in anything that derogates
from the original act such as alienation of some jx>rtion

i6 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

of itself, or submission to another sovereign. To violate
the act by which it eaists would be to annihilate itself;
and what is nothing produces nothing.

So soon as the multitude is thus united in one body,
it is impossible to injure one of the members without
attacking the body, still less to injure the body without
the members feeling the effects. Thus duty and interest
alike oblige the two contracting parties to give mutual
assistance; and the men themselves should seek to com-
bine in this twofold relationship all the advantages which
are attendant on it.

Now, the sovereign, being formed only of the indi-
viduals that compose it, neither has nor can have any
interest contrary to theirs; consequently the sovereign
power needs no guarantee toward its subjects, because it
is impossible that the body should wish to injure all its
members; and we shall see hereafter that it can injure
no one as an individual. The sovereign, for the simple
reason that it is so, is always everything that it ought
to be.

But this is not the case as regards the relation of sub-
jects to the sovereign, which, notwithstanding the com-
mon interest, would have no security for the perform-
ance of their engagements, unless it found means to
ensure their fidelity.

Indeed, every individual may, as a man, have a par-
ticular will contrary to, or divergent from, the general
vdll which he has as a citizen; his private interest may
prompt him quite differently from the common interest;
his absolute and naturally independent existence may
make him regard what he owes to the common cause as
a gratuitous contribution, the loss of which will be less
harmful to others than the payment of it will be burden-
some to him; and, regarding the moral person that con-
stitutes the State as an imaginary being because it is
not a man, he would be willing to enjoy the rights of a
citizen without being willing to fulfil the duties of a
subject The progress of such injustice would bring
about the ruin of the body politic.

In order, then, that the social pact may not be a vain
formulary, it tacitly includes this engagement, which can

THE CIVIL STATE 17

alone give force to the others, that whoever refuses to
obey the general will shall be constrained to do so by
the whole body; which means nothing else than that he
shall be forced to be free; for such is the condition
which, uniting every citizen to his native land, guaran-
tees him from all personal dependence, a condition that
insures the control and working of the political machine,
and alone renders legitimate civil engagements, which,
without it, would be absurd and tyrannical, and subject
to the most enormous abuses.

CHAPTER VIII.
The Civil State.

The passage from the state of nature to the civil state
produces in man a very remakable change, by substitut-
ing in his conduct justice for instinct, and by giving his
actions the moral quality that they previously lacked. It
is only when the voice of duty succeeds physical impulse,
and law succeeds appetite, that man, who till then had
regarded only himself, sees that he is obliged to act on
other principles, and to consult his reason before listen-
ing to his inclinations. Although, in this state, he is
deprived of many advantages that he derives from nature,
he acquires equally great ones in return; his faculties
are exercised and developed; his ideas are expanded; his
feelings are ennobled; his whole soul is exalted to such
a degree that, if the abuses of this new condition did
not often degrade him below that from which he has
emerged, he ought to bless without ceasing the happy
moment that released him from it for ever, and trans-
formed him from a stupid and ignorant animal into an
intelligent being and a man.

Let us reduce this whole balance to terms easy to com-
pare. What man loses by the social contract is his 1
natural liberty and an unlimited right to anything which '
tempts him and which he is able to attain: what he gains
is civil Uberty and property in all that he possesses. In '

i8 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

order that we may not be mistaken about these com-
pensations, we must clearly distinguish natural liberty,
which is limited only by the powers of the individual,
from civil liberty, which is limited by the general will;
and possession, which is nothing but the result of force
or the right of first occupancy, from property, which
can be based only on a positive title.

Besides the preceding, we might add to the acquisitions
of the civil state moral freedom, which alone renders
man truly master of himself; for the impulse of mere
appetite is slavery, while obedience to a self -prescribed
law is liberty. But I have already said too much on
this head, and the philosophical meaning of the term
LIBERTY does uot belong to my present subject

CHAPTER IX.

REAL PROPERTY.

Every member of the community at the moment of its
formation gives himself up to it, just as he actually is,
himself and all his powers, of which the property that
he possesses forms part. By this act, possession does not
change its nature when it changes hands, and become
property in those of the sovereign; but, as the powers of
the State {cit/) are incomparably greater than those of
an individual, public possession is also, in fact, more
secure and more irrevocable, without being more legiti-
mate, at least in respect of foreigners; for the State, with
regard to its members, is owner of all their property by
the social contract, which, in the State, serves as the
basis of all rights; but with regard to other powers, it
is owner only by the right of first occupancy which it
derives from individuals.

The right of first occupancy, although more real than that
of the strongest, becomes a true right only after the estab-
lishment of that of property. Every man has by nature
a right to all that is necessary to him; but the positive
act which makes him proprietor of certain property

REAL PROPERTY 19

excludes him from all the residue. His portion having
been allotted, he ought to confine himself to it, and he has
no further right to the undivided property. That is why
the right of first occupancy, so weak in the state of
nature, is respected by every member of a State. In this
right men regard not so much what belongs to others as
what does not belong to themselves.

In order to legalize the right of first occupancy over
any domain whatsoever, the following conditions are, in
general, necessary: first, the land must not yet be inhab-
ited by any one; secondly, a man must occupy only the
area required for his subsistence; thirdly, he must take
possession of it, not by an empty ceremony, but by labor
and cultivation, the only mark of ownership which, in
default of legal title, ought to be respected by others.

Indeed, if we accord the right of first occupancy to
necessity and labor, do we not extend it as far as it can
go ? Is it impossible to assign limits to this right ? Will
the mere setting foot on common ground be sufficient to
give an immediate claim to the ownership of it? Will
the i)ower of driving away other men from it for a moment
suffice to deprive them for ever of the right of returning
to it ? How can a man or a people take possession of an
immense territory and rob the whole human race of it
except by a punishable usurpation, since other men are
deprived of the place of residence and the sustenance
which nature gives to them in common. When Nufiez
Balboa on the seashore took possession of the Pacific
Ocean and of the whole of South America in the name of
the crown of Castile, was this sufficient to dispossess all
the inhabitants, and exclude from it all the princes in the
world ? On this supposition such ceremonies might have
been multiplied vainly enough; and the Catholic king in
his cabinet might, by a single stroke, have taken posses-
sion of the whole world, only cutting oflE afterward from
his empire what was previously occupied by other princes.

We perceive how the lands of individuals, united and
contiguous, become public territory, and how the right of
sovereignty, extending itself from the subjects to the land
which they occupy, becomes at once real and personal;
which places the possessors in greater dependence, and

90 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

makes their own powers a guarantee for their fidelity —
an advantage which ancient monarchs do not appear to
have clearly perceived, for, calling themselves only kings
of the Persians or Scythians or Macedonians, they seem
to have regarded themselves as chiefs of men rather than
as owners of countries. Monarchs of to-day call them-
selves more cleverly kings of France, Spain, England,
etc. ; in thus holding the land they are quite sure of
holding its inhabitants.

The peculiarity of this alienation is that the community,
in receiving the property of individuals, so far from rob-
bing them of it, only assures them lawful possession,
and changes usurpation into true right, enjoyment into
ownership. Also, the possessors being considered as
depositaries of the public property, and their rights being
respected by all the members of the State, as well as
maintained by all its power against foreigners, they have,
as it were, by a transfer advantageous to the public and
still more to themselves, acquired all that they have given
up — a paradox which is easily explained by distinguish-
ing between the rights which the sovereign and the pro-
prietor have over the same property, as we shall see
hereafter.

It may also happen that men begin to tmite before
they possess anything, and that afterward occupying ter-
ritory suflficient for all, they enjoy it in common, or share
it among themselves, either equally or in proportions
fixed by the sovereign. In whatever way this acquisition
is made, the right which every individual has over his
own property is always subordinate to the right which the
community has over all; otherwise there would be no
stability in the social union, and no real force in the
exercise of sovereignty.

I shall close this chapter and this book with a remark
which ought to serve as a basis for the whole social sys-
tem; it is that instead of destroying natural equality, the
fundamental pact, on the contrary, substitutes a moral
and lawful equality for the physical inequality which
nature imposed upon men, so that, although unequal in
strength or intellect, they all become equal by conven-
tion and legal right

BOOK II.

CHAPTER I.
That Sovereignty is Inalienable.

The first and most important consequence of the prin-
ciples above established is that the general will alone
can direct the forces of the State according to the object
of its institution, which is the common good; for if the
opposition of private interests has rendered necessary the
establishment of societies, the agreement of these same
interests has rendered it possible. That which is com-
mon to these different interests forms the social bond;
and tmless there were some point in which all interests
agree, no society could exist. Now, it is solely with
regard to this common interest that the society should
be governed.

I say, then, that sovereignty, being nothing but the
exercise of the general will, can never be alienated, and
that the sovereign power, which is only a collective
being, can be represented by itself alone; power indeed
can be transmitted, but not will.

In fact, if it is not impossible that a particular will should
agree on some point with the general will, it is at least
impossible that this agreement should be lasting and con-
stant; for the particular will naturally tends to prefer-
ences, and the general will to equality. It is still more
impossible to have a security for this agreement; even
though it should always exist, it would not be a result
of art, but of chance. The sovereign may indeed say:
*I will now what a certain man wills, or at least what
he says that he wills*; but he cannot say: 'What
that man wills to-morrow, I shall also will,* since it is
absurd that the will should bind itself as regards
the future, and since it is not incumbent on any will to

(ai)

12 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

consent to anything contrary to the welfare of the being
that wills. If then, the nation simply promises to obey,
it dissolves itself by that act and loses its character as a
people; the moment there tf a master, there is no longer
a sovereign, and forthwitn the body politic is destroyed.

This does not imply that the orders of the chiefs cannot
pass for decisions of the general will, so long as the sov-
ereign, free to oppose them, refrains from doing so. In
such a case the consent of the people should be inferred
from the universal silence. This will be explained at
greater length.

CHAPTER II.
That Sovereignty is Indivisible.

For the same reason that sovereignty is inalienable it
is indivisible; for the will is either general, or it is not;
it is either that of the body of the people, or that of
only a portion. In the first case, this declared will is an
act of sovereignty and constitutes law; in the second
case, it is only a particular vnll, or an act of magistracy
*— it is at most a decree.

But our publicists, being unable to divide sovereignty
in its principle, divide it in its object They divide it
into force and will, into legislative power and executive
power; into rights of taxation, of justice, and of war;
into internal administration and power of treating with
foreigners — sometimes confounding all these departments,
and sometimes separating them. They make the sover-
eign a fantastic being, formed of connected parts; it is
as if they composed a man of several bodies, one with
eyes, another with arms, another with feet, and nothing
else. The Japanese conjurers, it is said, cut up a child
before the eyes of the spectators; then, throwing all its
limbs into the air, they make the child come down again
alive and whole. Such almost are the juggler's tricks of
our publicists; after dismembering the social body by a
deception worthy of the fair, they recombine its parts,
nobody knows how.

THAT SOVEREIGNTY IS INDIVISIBLE 23

This error arises from their not having formed exact
notions about the sovereign authority, and from their
taking as parts of this authority what are only emana-
tions from it. Thus, for example, the acts of declaring
war and making peace have been regarded as acts of
sovereignty, which is not the case, since neither of them
is a law, but only an application of the law, a particular
act which determines the case of the law, as will be
clearly seen when the idea attached to the word law is
fixed.

By following out the other divisions in the same way
it would be fotmd that, whenever the sovereignty ap-
pears divided, we are mistaken in our supposition; and
that the rights which are taken as parts of that sov-
ereignty are all subordinate to it, and always suppose
supreme wills of which these rights are merely executive.

It would be impossible to describe the great obscur-
ity in which this want of precision has involved the con-
clusions of writers on the subject of political right
when they have endeavored to decide upon the respec-
tive rights of kings and peoples on the principles that
they had established. Every one can see in chap-
ters III. and IV. of the first book of Grotius, how that
learned man and his translator Barbeyrac became en-
tangled and embarrassed in their sophisms, for fear of
saying too much or not saying enough according to their
views, and so offending the interests that they had to
conciliate. Grotius, having taken refuge in France
through discontent with his own country, and wishing
to pay court to Liouis XIIL, to whom his book is dedi-
cated, spares no pains to despoil the people of all their
rights, and, in the most artful manner, bestow them on
kings. This also would clearly have been the inclination
of Barbeyrac, who dedicated his translation to the king of
England, George I. But tmfortunately the expulsion of
James II., which he calls an abdication, forced him to
be reserved and to equivocate and evade in order not
to make William appear a usurper. If these two writers
had adopted true principles, all difficulties would have
been removed, and they would have been always con-
sistent; but they would have spoken the truUi with

24 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

regret, and would have paid court only to the people.
Truth, however, does not lead to fortune, and the peo-
ple confer neither embassies, nor professorships, nor
pensions.

CHAPTER III.
Whether the General Will can Err.

It follows from what precedes that the general will
is always right and always tends to the public advantage;
but it does not follow that the resolutions of the people
have always the same rectitude. Men always desire their
own good, but do not always discern it; the people are
never corrupted, though often deceived, and it is only
then that they seem to will what is evil.

There is often a great deal of difference between the
will of all and the general will; the latter regards only
the common interest, while the former has regard to
private interests, and is merely a sum of particular wills;
but take away from these same wills the pluses and
minuses which cancel one another, and the general will
remains as the sum of the differences.

If the people come to a resolution when adequately
informed and without any communication among the
citizens, the general will would always result from the
great number of slight differences, and the resolution
would always be good. But when factions, partial
associations, are formed to the detriment of the whole
society, the will of each of these associations becomes
general with reference to its members, and particular
with reference to the State; it may then be said that
there are no longer as many voters as there are men,
but only as many voters as there are associations. The
differences become less numerous and 3rield a less general
result. Lastly, when one of these associations becomes
so great that it predominates over all the rest, you no
longer have as the result a sum of small differences, but a
single difference; there is then no longer a general

THE LIMITS OF THE SOVEREIGN POWER 25

will, and the opinion which prevails is only a particular
opinion.

It is important, then, in order to have a clear declaration
of the general will, that there should be no partial as-
sociation in the State, and that every citizen should
express only his own opinion.* Such was the unique and
sublime institution of the great Lycurgus. But if there
are partial associations, it is necessary to multiply their
ntmiber and prevent inequality, as Solon, Numa, and
Servius did. These are the only proper precautions for
insuring that the general will may always be enlightened,
and that the people may not be deceived.

CHAPTER IV.
The Limits of the Sovereign Power.

If the State or city is nothing but a moral person, the
life of which consists in the union of its members, and
if the most important of its cares is that of self-preserva-
tion, it needs a universal and compulsive force to move
and dispose every part in the manner most expedient for
the whole. As nature gives every man an absolute i>ower
over all his limbs, the social pact gives the body politic
an absolute power over all its members; and it is this
same power which, when directed by the general will,
bears, as I said, the name of sovereignty.

But besides the public person, we have to consider the
private persons who compose it, and whose life and
liberty are naturally independent of it. The question,
then, is to distinguish clearly between the respective
rights of the citizens and of the sovereign,! as well as

* ^ It is true,* says Machiavelli, ^that some divisions injtm the
State, while some are beneficial to it; those are injurloos to it
which are accompanied by cabals and factions; those assist it
which are maintained without cabals, without factions. Since,
therefore, no founder of a State can provide against enmities in it,
he ought at least to provide that there shall be no cabals. * (^History
of Florence,' Book VII.).

t Attentive readers, do not, I beg you, hastily chai^ge me with con*
tiadiction here. I could not avoid it in terms owing to the poverty
of the language, but wait

a6 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

between the duties which the former have to fulfil in
their capacity as subjects and the natural rights which
they ought to enjoy in their character as men.

It is admitted that whatever part of his power, prop-
erty, and liberty each one alienates by the social com-
pact is only that part of the whole of which the use is
important to the community; but we must also admit
that the sovereign alone is judge of what is important.

All the services that a citizen can render to the State
he owes to it as soon as the sovereign demands them;
but the sovereign on its part, cannot impose on its sub-
jects any burden which is useless to the community; it
cannot even wish to do so, for, by the law of reason,
just as by the law of nature, nothing is done without a
cause.

The engagements which bind us to the social body
are obligatory only because they are mutual; and their
nature is such that in fulfilling them we cannot work
for others without also working for ourselves. Why is
the general will always right, and why do all invariably
desire the prosperity of each, unless it is because there
is no one but appropriates to himself this word each
and thinks of himself in voting on behalf of all? This
proves that equality of rights and the notion of justice
that it produces are derived from the preference which
each gives to himself, and consequently from man's na-
ture; that the general will, to be truly such, should be
so in its object as well as in its essence; that it ought
to proceed from all in order to be applicable to all; and
that it loses its natural rectitude when it tends to some
individual and determinate object, because in that case,
judging of what is unknown to us, we have no true
principle of equity to guide us.

Indeed, so soon as a particular fact or right is in
question with regard to a point which has not been
regulated by an anterior general convention, the matter
becomes contentious; it is a process in which the private
persons interested are one of the parties and the public
the other, but in which I perceive neither the law which
must be followed, nor the judge who should decide. It
would be ridiculous in such a case to wish to refer the

THE LIMITS OF THE SOVEREIGN POWER 27

matter for an express decision of the general will, which
can be nothing but the decision of one of the parties,
and which, consequently, is for the other party only a
will that is foreign, partial, and inclined on such an
occasion to injustice as well as liable to error. There-
fore, just as a particular will cannot represent the gen-
eral will, the general will in turn changes its nature
when it has a particular end, and cannot, as general,
decide about either a i>erson or a fact. When the peo-
ple of Athens, for instance, elected or deposed their
chiefs, decreed honors to one, imposed penalties on an-
other, and by multitudes of particular decrees exercised
indiscriminately all the functions of government, the
people no longer had any general will properly so called;
they no longer acted as a sovereign i>ower, but as mag-
istrates. This will appear contrary to common ideas, but
I must be allowed time to expound my own.

From this we must understand that what generalizes
the will is not so much the number of voices as the
common interest which unites them; for, under this
system, each necessarily submits to the conditions which
he imposes on others — an admirable union of interest and
justice, which gives to the deliberations of the commu-
nity a spirit of equity that seems to disappear in the dis-
cussion of any private affair, for want of a common
interest to unite and identify the ruling principle of the
judge with that of the party.

By whatever path we return to our principle we always
arrive at the same conclusion, viz, that the social com-
pact establishes among the citizens such an equality that
they all pledge themselves under the same conditions
and ought all to enjoy the same rights. Thus, by the
nature of the compact, every act of sovereignty, that is,
every authentic act of the general will, binds or favors
equally all the citizens; so that the sovereign knows only
the body of the nation, and distinguishes none of those
that compose it

What, then, is an act of sovereignty properly so called ?
It is not an agreement between a superior and an inferior,
but an agreement of the body with each of its members;
a lawful agreement, because it has the social contract as

28 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

its foundation; equitable, because it is common to all;
useful, because it can have no other object than the gen-
eral welfare; and stable, because it has the public force
and the supreme power as a guarantee. So long as the
subjects submit only to such conventions, they obey no
one, but simply their own will; and to ask how far the
respective rights of the sovereign and citizens extend is
to ask up to what point the latter can make engage-
ments among themselves, each with all and all with each.

Thus we see that the sovereign power, wholly abso-
lute, wholly sacred, and wholly inviolable as it is, does
not, and cannot, pass the limits of general conventions,
and that every man can fully dispose of what is left to
him, of his property and liberty by these conventions;
so that the sovereign never has a right to burden one
subject more than another, because then the matter
becomes particular and his power is no longer competent.

These distinctions once admitted, so untrue is it that
in the social contract there is on the part of individuals
any real renunciation, that their situation, as a result of
this contract, is in reality preferable to what it was
before, and that, instead of an alienation, they have only
made an advantageous exchange of an uncertain and
precarious mode of existence for a better and more
assured one, of natural independence for liberty, of the
power to injure others for their own safety, and of their
strength, which others might overcome, for a right which
the social union renders inviolable. Their lives, also,
which they have devoted to the State, are continually
protected by it; and in exposing their lives for its de-
fense, what do they do but restore what they have
received from it ? What do they do but what they would
do more frequently and with more risk in the state of
nature, when, engaging in inevitable struggles, they would
defend at the peril of their lives their means of preser-
vation? All have to fight for their country in case of
need, it is true; but then no one ever has to fight for
himself. Do we not gain, moreover, by incurring, for
what insures our safety, a part of the risks that we should
have to incur for ourselves individually, as soon, as we were
deprived of it ?

CHAPTER V.
The Right of Life and Death.

It may be asked how individuals who have no right to
dispose of their own lives can transmit to the sovereign
this right which they do not possess. The question
appears hard to solve only because it is badly stated.
Every man has a right to risk his own life in order to
preserve it. Has it ever been said that one who throws
himself out of a window to escape from a fire is guilty
of suicide? Has this crime, indeed, ever been imputed
to a man who perishes in a storm, although, on embark-
ing, he was not ignorant of the danger?

The social treaty has as its end the preservation of the
contracting parties. He who desires the end desires also
the means, and some risks, even some losses, are insep-
arable from these means. He who is willing to preserve
his life at the expense of others ought also to give it up
for them when necessary. Now, the citizen is not a
judge of the peril to which the law requires that he
should expose himself; and when the prince has said to
him: ^It is exi>edient for the State that you should die,'
he ought to die, since it is only on this condition that
he has lived in security up to that time, and since his
life is no longer merely a gift of nature, but a condi-
tional gift of the State.

The penalty of death inflicted on criminals may be
regarded almost from the same point of view; it is in
order not to be the victim of an assassin that a man
consents to die if he becomes one. In this treaty, far
from disposing of his own life, he. thinks only of secur-
ing it, and it is not to be supposed that any of the con-
tracting parties contemplates at the time being hanged.

Moreover, every evil-doer who attacks social rights
becomes by his crimes a rebel and a traitor to his
country; by violating its laws he ceases to be a member
of it, and even makes war upon it. Then the preserva-
tion of the State is incompatible with his own — one of
the two must perish; and when a guilty man is executed.

30 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

it is less as a citizen than as an enemy. The proceed-
ings and the judgment are the proofs and the declaration
that he has broken the social treaty, and consequently
that he is no longer a member of the State. Now, as he
has acknowledged himself to be such, at least by his resi-
dence, he ought to be cut off from it by exile as a vio-
lator of the compact, or by death as a public enemy; for
such an enemy is not a moral person, he is simply a man;
and this is a case in which the right of war is to slay
the vanquished.

But, it will be said, the condemnation of a criminal is
a particular act. Granted; but this condemnation does
not belong to the sovereign; it is a right which that
power can confer, though itself unable to exercise it.
All my ideas are connected, but I could not expound
them all at once.

Again, the frequency of capital punishments is always
a sign of weakness or indolence in the government.
There is no man so worthless that he cannot be made
good for something. We have a right to kill, even for
example's sake, only those who cannot be preserved
without danger.

As regards the right to pardon or to exempt a guilty
man from the penalty imposed by the law and inflicted
by the judge, it belongs only to a power which is abov«
both the judge and the law, that is to say, the sov^
ereign; still its right in this is not very plain, and the
occasions for exercising it are very rare. In a well-
governed State there are few punishments, not because
many pardons are granted, but because there are few
criminals; the multitude of crimes insures impunity
when the State is decaying. Under the Roman Repub-
lic neither the Senate nor the consuls attempted to grant
pardons; the people even did not grant any, although
they sometimes revoked their own judgments. Frequent
pardons proclaim that crimes will soon need them no
longer, and every one sees to what that leads. But 1
feel my heart murmuring and restraining my pen; let
us leave these questions to be discussed by the just man
who has not erred, and who never needed pardon him-
self.

CHAPTER VI.
The Law.

By the social compact we have given existence and
fife to the body politic ; the question now is to endow it
with movement, and will by legislation. For the original
act by which this body is formed and consolidated deter-
mines nothing in addition as to what it must do for its
own preservation.

What is right and conformable to order is such by the
nature of things, and independently of human conven-
tions. All justice comes from God, he alone is the
source of it: but could we receive it direct from so lofty
a source, we should need neither government nor laws.
Without doubt there is a universal justice emanating from
reason alone; but this justice, in order to be admitted
among us, should be reciprocal. Regarding things from
a human standpoint, the laws of justice are inoperative
among men for want of a natural sanction; they only
bring good to the wicked and evil to the just when the
latter observe them with every one, and no one observes
them in return. Conventions and laws, then, are neces-
sary to couple rights with duties and apply justice to its
object. In the state of nature, where everything is in
common, I owe nothing to those to whom I have prom-
ised nothing; I recognize as belonging to others only
what is useless to me. This is not the case in the civil
state, in which all rights are determined by law.

But then, finally, what is a law ? So long as men are
content to attach to this word only metaphysical ideas,
they will continue to argue without being understood;
and when they have stated what a law of nature is, they
will know no better what a law of the State is.

I have already said that there is no general will with
reference to a particular object. In fact, this particular
object is either in the State or outside of it. If it is
outside of the State, a will which is foreign to it is not
general in relation to it; and if it is within the State, it
forms part of it; then there is formed between the whole

(30

32 THE SOCIAL CONTRACr

and its part a relation which makes of it two separate
beings, of which the part is one, and the whole, less this
same part, is the other. But the whole, less one part, is
not the whole, and so long as the relation subsists, there
is no longer any whole, but two unequal parts; whence
it follows that the will of the one is no longer general
in relation to the other.

But when the whole people decree concerning the whole
people, they consider themselves alone ; and if a relation
is then constituted it is between the whole object under
one point of view and the whole object under another
point of view, without any division at all. Then the mat-
ter respecting which they decree is general like the will
Ihat decrees. It is this act that I call a law.

When I say that the object of the laws is always gen-
eral, I mean that the law considers subjects collectively,
and actions as abstract, never a man as an individual
nor a particular action. Thus the law may indeed decree
that there shall be privileges, but cannot confer them on
any person by name; the law can create several classes
of citizens, and even assign the qualifications which shall
entitle them to rank in these classes, but it cannot nomi-
nate such and such persons to be admitted to them; it
can establish a royal government and a hereditary suc-
cession, but cannot elect a king or appoint a royal fam-
ily; in a word, no function which has reference to an
individual object appertains to the legislative power.

From this standpoint we see immediately that it is no
longer necessary to ask whose office it is to make laws,
since they are acts of the general will; nor whether the
prince is above the laws, since he is a member of the
State; nor whether the law can be unjust, since no one
is unjust to himself; nor how we are free and yet sub-
ject to the laws, since the laws are only registers of our wills.

We see, further, that since the law combines the uni-
versality of the will with the universality of the object,
whatever any man prescribes on his own authority is not a
law; and whatever the sovereign itself prescribes respect-
ing a particular object is not a law, but a decree, not an
act of sovereignty, but of magistracy.

I therefore call any State a republic which is governed

THE LAW 33

by laws, under whatever form of administration it may be ;
for then only does the public interest predominate and
the commonwealth count for something. Every legiti-
mate government is republican;* I will explain hereafter
what government is.

Laws are properly only the conditions of civil associa-
tion. The people, being subjected to the laws, should be
the authors of them; it concerns only the associates to
determine the conditions of association. But how will
they be determined ? Will it be by a common agreement,
by a sudden inspiration ? Has the body politic an organ
for expressing its will ? Who will give it the foresight
necessary to frame its acts and publish them at the out-
set ? Or how shall it declare them in the hour of need ?
How would a blind multitude, which often knows not
what it wishes because it rarely knows what is good for
it, execute of itself an enterprise so great, so difficult, as
a system of legislation ? Of themselves, the people always
desire what is good, but do not always discern it. The
general will is always right, but the judgment which
guides it is not always enlightened. It must be made to
see objects as they are, sometimes as they ought to ap-
pear; it must be shown the good path that it is seeking,
and guarded from the seduction of private interests; it
must be made to observe closely times and places, and
to balance the attraction of immediate and palpable ad-
vantages against the danger of remote and concealed
evils. Individuals see the good which they reject; the
public desire the good which they do not see. All alike
have need of guides. The former must be compelled to
conform their wills to their reason; the people must be
taught to know what they require. Then from the pub*
lie enlightenment results the union of the imderstanding
and the will in the social body; and from that the close
co-operation of the parts, and, lastly, the maximum power
of the whole. Hence arises the need of a legislator.

* I do not mean by this word an aristocracy or democracy only, bat
in general any government directed by the general will, which is the
law. To be Intimate, the government must not be combined with the
sovereign power, but must be its minister; then monarchy itself is a re*
pnUic. This will be made clear in the next book.

CHAPTER VII.
The Legislator.

In order to discover the rules of association that are
most suitable to nations, a superior intelligence would
be necessary who could see aU the passions of men with-
out experiencing any of them ; who would have no a£Snity
with our nature and yet know it thoroughly; whose hap-
piness would not depend on us, and who would never-
theless be quite willing to interest himself in ours; and,
lastly, one who, storing up for himself with the progress
of time a far-off glory in the future, could labor in one
age and enjoy in another. Gods would be necessary to
give laws to men.

The same argument that Caligula adduced as to fact,
Plato put forward with regard to right, in order to give
an idea of the civil or royal man whom he is in quest of in
his work, the * Statesman.' But if it is true that a great
prince is a rare man, what will a great legislator be?
The first has only to follow the model which the other
has to frame. The latter is the mechanician who invents
the machine, the former is only the workman who puts
it in readiness and works it ^ In the birth of societies,'
says Montesquieu, ^it is the chiefs of the republics who
frame the institutions, and afterward it is the institu-
tions which mold the chiefs of the republics.'

He who dares undertake to give institutions to a nation
ought to feel himself capable, as it were, of changing
human nature; of transforming every individual, who in
himself is a complete and independent whole, into part
of a greater whole, from which he receives in some man-
ner his life and his being; of altering man's constitution
in order to strengthen it; of substituting a social and
moral existence for the independent and physical exist-
ence which we have aU received from nature. In a
word, it is necessary to deprive man of his native pow-
ers in order to endow him with some which are alien to
him, and of which he cannot make use without the aid

(34)

THE LEGISLATOR 3$

of other people. The more thoroughly those natural
powers are deadened and destroyed, the greater and more
durable are the acquired powers, the more solid and per*
feet also are the institutions; so that if every citizen is
nothing, and can be nothing, except in combination with
all the rest, and if the force acquired by the whole be
equal or superior to the sum of the natural forces of all
the individuals, we may say that legislation is at the
highest point of perfection which it can attain.

The^ legislator is in all respects an extraordinary man in
the State. If he ought to be so by his genius, he is not
less so by his office. It is not magistracy nor sover-
eignty. This office, which constitutes the republic, does
not enter into its constitution; it is a special and superior
office, having nothing in common with human govern-
ment; for if he who rules men ought not to control leg-
islation, he who controls legislation ought not to rule
men; otherwise his laws, being ministers of his passions,
would often serve only to perpetrate his acts of injustice;
he would never be able to prevent private interests from
corrupting the sacredness of his work.

When Lycurgus gave laws to his country, he began
by abdicating his royalty. It was the practice of the
majority of the Greek towns to intrust to foreigners the
framing of their laws. The modem republics of Italy
often imitated this usage; that of Geneva did the same
and found it advantageous. Rome, at her most glorious
epoch, saw all the crimes of tyranny spring up in her
bosom, and saw herself on the verge of destruction,
though uniting in the same hands legislative authority
and sovereign power.

Yet the Decemvirs themselves never arrogated the
right to pass any law on their sole authority. Nothing
that we propose to you, they said to the people, can pass
into law without your consent. Romans, be yourselves
the authors of the laws which are to secure your happi-
ness.

He who frames laws, then, has, or ought to have, no
legislative right, and the people themselves cannot, even
if they wished, divest themselves of this incommunicable
right, because, according to the ftmdamental compact, it

36 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

is only the general will that binds individuals, and we
can never be sure that a particular will is comformable
to the general will until it has been submitted to the free
votes of the people. I have said this already, but it is
not useless to repeat it.

Thus we find simultaneously in the work of legislation
two things that seem incompatible — an enterprise sur-
passing human powers, and, to execute it, an authority
that is a mere nothing.

Another difficulty deserves attention. Wise men who
want to speak to the vulgar in their own language in-
stead of in a popular way will not be understood. Now,
there are a thous^d kinds of ideas which it is impossible
to translate into the language of the people. Views very
general and objects very remote are alike beyond its reach;
and each individual, approving of no other plan of gov-
ernment than that which promotes his own interests, does
not readily perceive the benefits that he is to derive from
the continual deprivations which good laws impose. In
order that a newly formed nation might approve sound
maxims of politics and observe the fundamental rules of
state policy, it would be necessary that the effect should
become the cause ; that the social spirit, which should be
the work of the institution, should preside over the insti-
tution itself, and that men should be, prior to the laws,
what they ought to become by means of them. Since,
then, the legislator cannot employ either force or reason-
ing, he must needs have recourse to an authority of a
different order, which can compel without violence and
persuade without convincing.

It is this which in all ages has constrained the founders
of nations to resort to the intervention of heaven, and to
give the gods the credit for their own wisdom, in order
that the nations, subjected to the laws of the State as to
those of nature, and recognizing the same power in the
formation of man and in that of the State, might obey
willingly, and bear submissively the yoke of the public
welfare.

The legislator puts into the mouths of the immortals
that sublime reason which soars beyond the reach of
common men, in order that he may win over by divine

THE PEOPLE 37

authority those whom human prudence could not move.
But it does not belong to every man to make the gods
his oracles, nor to be believed when he proclaims him-
self their interpreter. The great soul of the legislator is
the real miracle which must give proof of his mission.
Any man can engrave tables of stone, or bribe an ora-
cle, or pretend secret intercourse with some divinity, or
train a bird to speak in his ear, or find some other clumsy
means to impose on the people. He who is acquainted
with such means only will perchance be able to assemble
a crowd of foolish persons; but he will never found an
empire, and his extravagant work will speedily perish
with him. Empty deceptions form but a transient bond;
it is only wisdom that makes it lasting. The Jewish law,
which still endures, and that of the child of Ishmael,
which for ten centuries has ruled half the world, still
bear witness to-day to the great men who dictated them;
and while proud philosophy or blind party spirit sees in
them nothing but fortunate impostors, the true states-
man admires in their systems the great and powerful
genius which directs durable institutions.

It is not necessary from all this to infer with Warbur-
ton that politics and religion have among us a common
aim, but only that, in the origin of nations, one serves
as an instrument of the other.

CHAPTER VIII.

The People.

As AN architect, before erecting a large edifice, exam-
ines and tests the soil in order to see whether it can
support the weight, so a wise lawgiver does not begin
by drawing up laws that are good in themselves, but
considers first whether the people for whom he designs
them are fit to endure them. It is on this account that
Plato refused to legislate for the Arcadians and Cjrrenians,
knowing that these two peoples were rich and could not
tolerate equality; and it is on this account that good laws

3S THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

and worthless men were to be found in Crete, for Minos
had only disciplined a people steeped in vice.

A thousand nations that have flourished on the earth
could never have borne good laws; and even those that
might have done so could have succeeded for only a very
short period of their whole duration. The majority of
nations, as well as of men, are tractable only in their
youth; they become incorrigible as they grow old. When
once customs are established and prejudices have taken
root, it is a perilous and futile enterprise to try and re-
form them; for the people cannot even endure that their
evils should be touched with a view to their removal,
like those stupid and cowardly patients that shudder at
the sight of a physician.

But just as some diseases unhinge men's minds and
deprive them of all remembrance of the past, so we
sometimes find, during the existence of States, epochs of
violence, in which revolutions produce an influence upon
nations such as certain crises produce upon individuals,
in which horror of the past supplies the place of forget-
fulness, and in which the State, inflamed by civil wars,
springs forth so to speak from its ashes, and regains the
vigor of youth in Issuing from the arms of death. Such
was Sparta in the time of Lycurgus, such was Rome
after the Tarquins, and such among us modems were
Holland and Switzerland after the expulsion of their
tyrants.

But these events are rare; they are exceptions, the ex-
planation of which is always found in the particular consti-
tution of the excepted State. They could not even hap-
pen twice with the saime nation; for it may render itself
free so long as it is merely barbarous, but can no longer
do so when the resources of the State are exhausted.
Then commotions may destroy it without revolutions
being able to restore it, and as soon as its chains are
broken, it falls in pieces and ceases to exist; hencefor-
ward it requires a master and not a deliverer. Free
nations, remember this maxim: •Liberty may be ac-
quired but never recovered. •

Youth is not infancy. There is for nations as for men
a period of youth, or, if you will, of maturity, which

THE PEOPLE 39

they must await before they are subjected to laws; but
it is not always easy to discern when a people is matttre,
and if the time is anticipated, the labor is abortive. One
nation is governable from its origin, another is not so at
the end of ten centuries. The Russians will never be
really civilized, because they have been civilized too early.
Peter had an imitative genius; he had not the true genius
that creates and produces anything from nothing. Some
of his measures were beneficial, but the majority were
ill-timed. He saw that his people were barbarous, but
he did not see that they were unripe for civilization; he
wished to civilize them, when it was necessary only to
discipline them. He wished to produce at once Germans
or Englishmen when he should have begun by making
Russians; he prevented his subjects from ever becoming
what they might have been, by persuading them that
they were what they were not. It is in this way that a
French tutor trains his pupil to shine for a moment in
childhood, and then to be forever a nonentity. The
Russian Empire will desire to subjugate Europe, and
will itself be subjugated. The Tartars, its subjects or
neighbors, will become its masters and ours. This rev-
olution appears to me inevitable. All the kings of Europe
are working in concert to accelerate it

CHAPTER IX.

The People (Continued).

As NATURE has set limits to the stature of a properly
formed man, outside which it produces only giants and
dwarfs; so likewise, with regard to the best constitution
of a State, there are limits to its possible extent so that
it may be neither too great to enable it to be well gov-
erned, nor too small to enable it to maintain itself single-
handed. There is in every body politic a maximum of
force which it cannot exceed, and which is often dimin-
ished as the State is aggrandized. The more the social
bond is extended, the more it is weakened; and, in gen-

40 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

eraly a small State is proportionally stronger than a large
one.

A thousand reasons demonstrate the trath of this
maxim. In the first place, administration becomes more
difficult at great distances, as a weight becomes heavier
at the end of a longer lever. It also becomes more bur-
densome in proportion as its parts are multiplied; for
every town has first its own administration, for which the
people pay; every district has its administration, still paid
for by the people ; next, every province, then the superior
governments, the satrapies, the vice-royalties, which must
be paid for more dearly as we ascend, and always at the
cost of the unfortunate people; lastly comes the supreme
administration, which overwhelms everything. So many
additional burdens perpetually exhaust the subjects; and
far from being better governed by all these different or-
ders, they are much worse governed than if they had
but a single superior. Meanwhile, hardly any resources
remain for cases of emergency; and when it is necessary
to have recourse to them the State trembles on the brink
of ruin.

Nor is this all ; not only has the government less vigor
and activity in enforcing observance of the laws, in put-
ting a stop to vexations, in reforming abuses, and in
forestalling seditious enterprises which may be entered
upon in distant places, but the people have less affection
for their chiefs whom they never see, for their country,
which is in their eyes like the world, and for their fellow-
citizens, most of whom are strangers to them. The same
laws cannot be suitable to so many different provinces,
which have different customs and different climates, and
cannot tolerate the same form of government. Different
laws beget only trouble and confusion among the nations
which, living under the same chiefs and in constant com-
munication, mingle or intermarry with one another, and,
when subjected to other usages, never know whether
their patrimony is really theirs. Talents are hidden, vir-
tues ignored, vices unpunished, in that multitude of men,
unknown to one another, whom the seat of the supreme
administration gathers together in one place. The chiefs,
overwhelmed with business, see nothing themselves; clerks

THE PEOPLE 4»

rule the State. In a word, the measures that must be
taken to maintain the general authority, which so many
officers at a distance wish to evade or impose upon, ab-
sorb all the public attention; no regard for the welfare
of the people remains, and scarcely any for their de-
fense in time of need; and thus a body too huge for its
constitution sinks and perishes, crushed by its own weight

On the other hand, the State must secure a certain
foundation, that it may possess stability and resist the
shocks which it will infallibly experience, as well as sus-
tain the efforts which it will be forced to make in order
to maintain itself; for all nations have a kind of centrif-
ugal force, by which they continually act one against
another, and tend to aggrandize themselves at the ex-
pense of their neighbors, like the vortices of Descartes.
Thus the weak are in danger of being quickly swallowed
up, and none can preserve itself long except by putting
itself in a kind of equilibrium with all, which renders
the compression almost equal everywhere.

Hence we see that there are reasons for expansion and
reasons for contraction; and it is not the least of a
statesman's talents to find the proportion between the
two which is most advantageous for the preservation of
the State. We may say, in general, that the former,
being only external and relative, ought to be subordi-
nated to t±ie others, which are internal and absolute. A
healthy and strong constitution is the first thing to be
sought; and we should rely more on the vigor that
springs from a good government than on the resources
furnished by an extensive territory.

States have, however, been constituted in such a way
that the necessity of making conquests entered into their
very constitution, and in order to maintain themselves
they were forced to enlarge themselves continually. Per-
haps they rejoiced greatly at this happy necessity, which
nevertheless revealed to them, with the limit of their
greatness, the inevitable moment of their falL

CHAPTER X.
The People (Continued)

A BODY politic may be measured in two ways, viz, by
the extent of its territory, and by the number of its
people; and there is between these two modes of measure-
ment a suitable relation according to which the State may
be assigned its true dimensions. It is the men that con-
stitute the State, and it is the soil that sustains the men;
the due relation, then, is that the land should suffice for
the maintenance of its inhabitants, and that there should
be as many inhabitants as the land can sustain. In this
proportion is found the maximum power of a given num-
ber of people; for if there is too much land, the care of
it is burdensome, the cultivation inadequate, and the
produce superfluous, and this is the proximate cause of
defensive wars. If there is not enough land, the State is
at the mercy of its neighbors for the additional quantity;
and this is the proximate cause of offensive wars. Any
nation which has, by its position, only the alternative
between commerce and war is weak in itself; it is depend-
ent on its neighbors and on events; it has only a short
and precarious existence. It conquers and changes its
situation, or it is conquered and reduced to nothing. It
can preserve its freedom only by virtue of being small or
great.

It is impossible to express numerically a fixed ratio
between the extent of land and the ntmiber of men which
are reciprocally sufficient, on accotmt of the differences
that are found in the quality of the soil, in its degrees
of fertility, in the nature of its products, and in the in-
fluence of climate, as well as on account of those which
we observe in the constitutions of the inhabitants, of
whom some consume little in a fertile cotmtry, while
others consume much on an tmfruitful soil. Further,
attention must be paid to the greater or less fecundity of
the women, to the conditions of the country, whether
more or less favorable to the population, and to the num-
(4a)

THE PEOPLE 43

bers which the legislator may hope to draw thither by
his institutions; so that an opinion should be based not
on what is seen, but on what is foreseen, while the actual
state of the i>eople should be less observed than that which
it ought naturally to attain. In short, there are a thou-
sand occasions on which the particular accidents of situa-
tion require or permit that more territory than appears
necessary should be taken up. Thus men will spread out
a good deal in a motmtainous country, where the natural
productions, viz, woods and pastures, require less labor,
where experience 'teaches that women are more fecund
than in the plains, and where with an extensive inclined
surface there is only a small horizontal base, which alone
should count for vegetation. On the other hand, people
may inhabit a smaller space on the sea-shore, even among
rocks and sands that are almost barren, because fishing
can, in great measure, supply the deficiency in the pro-
ductions of the earth, because men ought to be more
concentrated in order to repel pirates, and because,
further, it is easier to relieve the country, by means of
colonies, of the inhabitants with which it is over-
burdened.

In order to establish a nation, it is necessary to add
to these conditions one which cannot supply the place of
any other, but without which they are all useless — it is
that the people should enjoy abundance and peace; for
the time of a State's formation is, like that of forming
soldiers in a square, the time when the body is least
capable of resistance and most easy to destroy. Resist-
ance would be greater in a state of absolute disorder
than at a moment of fermentation, when each is occupied
with his own position and not with the common danger.
Should a war, a famine, or a sedition supervene at this
critical period, the State is inevitably overthrown.

Many governments, indeed, may be established during
such storms, but then it is these very governments that
destroy the State. Usurpers always bring about or select
troublous times for passing, under cover of the public
agitation, destructive laws which the people would never
adopt when sober-minded. The choice of the moment
for the establishment of a government is one of the

44 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

surest marks for distinguishing the work of the legislator
from that of the tyrant.

What nation, then, is adapted for legislation ? That
which is already united by some bond of interest, origin,
oi convention, but has not yet borne the real yoke of
the laws; that which has neither customs nor supersti-
tions firmly rooted; that which has no fear of being
overwhelmed by a sudden invasion, but which, without
entering into the disputes of its neighbors, can single-
handed resist either of them, or aid one in repelling the
other; that in which every member can be known by all,
and in which there is no necessity to lay on a man a
greater burden than a man can bear; that which can
subsist without other nations, and without which every
other nation can subsist;* that which is neither rich
nor poor and is self-sufficing; lastly, that which com-
bines the stability of an old nation with the docility of a
new one. The work of legislation is rendered arduous
not so much by what must be established as by what
must be destroyed; and that which makes success so
rare is the impossibility of finding the simplicity of
nature conjoined with the necessities of society. All
these conditions, it is true, are with difficulty combined;
hence few well-constituted States are seen.

There is still one country in Europe capable of legis-
lation; it is the island of Corsica. The courage and
firmness which that brave nation has exhibited in recov-
ering and defending its freedom would well deserve that
some wise man should teach it how to preserve it. I
have some presentiment that this small island will one
day astonish Europe.

*If of two neighboring nations one could not snbsist without
the other, it would be a very hard situation for the first, and a
very dangerous one for the second. Every wise nation in such a
case will endeavor very quickly to free the other from this depend-
ence. The republic of Thlascala, inclosed in the empire of Mexico.
pref erred to do without salt rather than buy it of the Mexicans or
even accept it gratuitously. The wise Thlascalans saw a trap hid-
den beneath this generosity. They kept themselves free; and this
small State, Inclosed in that great empire, was at last the instru-
ment of its downfall

CHAPTER XL
The Different Systems of Legislation.

If we ask precisely wherein consists the greatest good
of all, which ought to be the aim of every system of
legislation, we shall find that it is summed up in two
principal objects, liberty and equality, liberty, because
any individual dependence is so much force withdrawn
from the body of the State; equality, because liberty
cannot subsist without it.

I have already said what civil liberty is. With regard
to equality, we must not understand by this word that
the deg^es of power and wealth should be absolutely
the same; but that, as to power, it should fall short of
all violence, and never be exercised except by virtue
of station and of the laws; while, as to wealth, no citizen
should be rich enough to be able to buy another, and
none poor enough to be forced to sell himself,* which
supposes, on the part of the great, moderation in property
and influence, and, on the part of ordinary citizens, re-
pression of avarice and covetousness.

It is said that this equality is a chimera of specula-
tion which cannot exist in practical affairs. But if the
abuse is inevitable, does it follow that it is unneces-
sary even to regulate it ? It is precisely because the
force of circumstances is ever tending to destroy equal-
ity that, the force of legislation should always tend to
maintain it.

But these general objects of every good institution ought
to be modified in each country by the relations which arise
both from the local situation and from the character of
the' inhabitants; and it is with reference to these relations
that we must assign to each nation a particular system

* If, then, yoa wish to ||:1 ve stability to the State, bring the two extremes
as near together as possible ; tolerate neither rich people nor beggars.
These two conditions, naturally inseparable, are equally fatal to the
general welfare; from the one class spring tyrants, from the other, the
suppor te r s of tyranny ; it is always between these that the traffic in pubUe
liberty is carried on; the one buys and the other sells.

(45)

46 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

of institutions, which shall be the best, not perhaps in
itself, but for the State for which it is designed For
instance, if the soil is unfruitful and barren, or the
country too confined for its inhabitants, turn your atten-
tion to arts and manufactures, and exchange their pro-
ducts for the provisions that you require. On the other
hand, if you occupy rich plains and fertile slopes, if, in
a productive region, you are in need of inhabitants, be-
stow all your cares on agriculture, which multiplies men,
and drives out the arts, which would only end in depopu-
lating the country by gathering together in a few spots
the few inhabitants that the land possesses.* If you
occupy extensive and convenient coasts, cover the sea
with vessels and foster commerce and navigation; you
will have a short and brilliant existence. If the sea on
your coasts bathes only rocks that are almost inaccessible,
remain fish-eating barbarians; you will lead more peace-
ful, perhaps better, and certainly happier lives. In a
word, besides the maxims common to all, each nation
contains within itself some cause which influences it in a
particular way, and renders its legislation suitable for
it alone. Thus the Hebrews in ancient times, and the
Arabs more recently, had religion as their chief object,
the Athenians literature, Carthage and Tyre commerce,
Rhodes navigation, Sparta war, Rome valor. The author
of the ^ Spirit of the Laws * has shown in a multitude
of instances by what arts the legislator directs his insti-
tutions toward each of these objects.

What renders the constitution of a State really solid
and durable is the observance of expediency in such a
way that natural relations and the laws always coincide,
the latter only serving, as it were, to secure, support,
and rectify the former. But if the legislator, mistaken in
his object, takes a principle different from that which
springs from the nature of things; if the one tends to
servitude, the other to liberty, the one to riches, the
other to population, the one to peace, the other to con-

* Any branch of foreign commerce, says the Marqnis d'Aigenson,
difiFuses merely a deceptive ntility through the kingdom generally; it
may enrich a few individuals, even a few towns, but the nation as a
whole gains nothing, and the ;people are none the better for it

DIVISION OP THE LAWS 47

quests, we shall see the laws imperceptibly weakened and
the constitution impaired; and the State will be cease-
lessly agitated until it is destroyed or changed, and
invincible nature has resumed her sway.

CHAPTER XII.
Division of the Laws.

In order that eveiything may be duly regulated and
the best possible form given to the commonwealth, there
are various relations to be considered. First, the action
of the whole body acting on itself, that is, the relation
of the whole to the whole, or of the sovereign to the
State; and this relation is composed of that of the inter-
mediate terms, as we shall see hereafter.

The laws governing this relation bear the name of po-
litical laws, and are also called fundamental laws, not
without some reason if they are wise ones; for, if in
every State there is only one good method of regulating
it, the people which has discovered it ought to adhere
to it; but if the established order is bad, why should we
regard as fundamental laws which prevent it from being
good ? Besides, in any case, a nation is always at liberty
to change its laws, even the best; for if it likes to injure
itself, who has a right to prevent it from doing so ?

The second relation is that of the members with one
another, dr with the body as a whole; and this relation
should, in respect of the first, be as small, and, in re-
spect of the second, as great as possible ; so that every
citizen may be perfectly independent of all the rest, and
in absolute dependence on the State. And this is always
eflfected by the same means; for it is only the power of
the State that secures the freedom of its members. It is
from this second relation that civil laws arise.

We may consider a third kind of relation between the
individual man and the law, viz, that of punishable dis-
obedience; and this gives rise to the establishment
of criminal laws, which at bottom are not so much a

4S THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

particular species of laws as the sanction of all the
others.

To these three kinds of laws is added a fourth, the
most important of all, which is graven neither on marble
nor on brass, but in the hearts of the citizens; a law
which creates the real constitution of the State, which
acquires new strength daily, which, when other laws grow
obsolete or pass away, revives them or supplies their
place, preserves a people in the spirit of their institutions,
and imperceptibly substitutes the force of habit for that
of authority. I speak of manners, customs, and above
all of opinion — a province unknown to our politicians,
but one on which the success of all the rest depends; a
province with which the great legislator is occupied in pri-
vate, while he appears to confine himself to particular
regulations, that are merely the arching of the vault, of
which manners, slower to develop, form at length the
immovable keystone.

Of these different classes, political laws, which consti-
tute the form of government, alone relate to my subject.

BOOK III.

Bkforb speaking of the different forms of government, let us try to
fix the precise meaning of that word, which has not yet been very
clearly explained.

CHAPTER I.
Government in General.

I WARN the reader that this chapter must be read care-
fully, and that I do not know the art of making myself
intelligible to those that will not be attentive.

Every free action has two causes concurring to produce
it; the one moral, viz, the will which determines the act;
the other physical, viz, the power which executes it.
When I walk toward an object, I must first will to go
to it; in the second place, my feet must carry me to it.
Should a paralytic wish to run, or an active man not
wish to do so, both will remain where they are. The
body politic has the same motive powers; in it, likewise,
force and will are distinguished, the latter under the
name of legislative power, the former under the name
of EXECUTIVE POWER. Nothing is, or ought to be, done in
it without their co-operation.

We have seen that the legislative power belongs to the
people, and can belong to it alone. On the other hand,
it is easy to see from the principles already established,
that the executive power cannot belong to the people
generally as legislative or sovereign, because that power
is exerted only in particular acts, which are not within
the province of the law, nor consequently within that of
the sovereign, all the acts of which must be laws.

The public force, then, requires a suitable agent to con-
centrate it and put it in action according to the directions
of the general will, to serve as a means of communication

4 (49)

so THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

between the State and the sovereign, to effect in some
manner in the public person what the union of soul and
body effects in a man. This is, in the State, the function
of the government, improperly confounded with the sov-
ereign of which it is only the minister.*

What, then, is the government ? An intermediate body
established between the subjects and the sovereign for
their mutual correspondence, charged with the execution
of the laws and with the maintenance of liberty both
civil and political.

The members of this body are called magistrates or
KINGS, that is, governors; and the body as a whole bears
the name of PRiNCEf. Those therefore who maintain that
the act by which a people submits to its chiefs is not a
contract are quite right. It is absolutely nothing but a
commission, an employment, in which, as simple officers
of the sovereign, they exercise in its name the power of
which it has made them depositaries, and which it can
limit, modify, and resume when it pleases. The aliena-
tion of such a right, being incompatible with the nature
of the social body, is contrary to the object of the asso-
ciation.

Consequently, I give the name government or supreme
administration to the legitimate exercise of the executive
power, and that of Prince or magistrate to the man or
body charged with that administration.

It is in the government that are found the intermediate
powers, the relations of which constitute the relation of
the whole to the whole, or of the sovereign to the State.
This last relation can be represented by that of the ex-
tremes of a continued proportion, of which the mean
proportional is the government. The government receives
from the sovereign the commands which it gives to the
people; and in order that the State may be in stable
equilibrium, It is necessary, everything being balanced,

* By restricting the function of the sovereign to legislation, Rousseau
hampers himself in treating of governments. A sharp division between
the legislative and the executive is impossible (cf. Austin, ^Jurispra-
denca,» Part I. LecL VI.).— Ed.

fit is for this reason that at Venice the title of Most Serene Prince
fe given to the College, even when the Doge does not attend it.

GOVERNMENT IN GENERAL 51

that there should be equality between the product or the
power of the government taken by itself, and the product
or the power of the citizens, who are sovereign in the
one aspect and subjects in the other.

Further, we could not alter any of the three terms
without at once destroying the proportion. If the sov-
ereign wishes to govern, or if the magistrate wishes to
legislate, or if the subjects refuse to obey, disorder suc-
ceeds order, force and will no longer act in concert, and
the State being dissolved falls into despotism or anarchy.
Lastly, as there is but one mean proportional between
each relation, there is only one good government possi-
ble in a State; but as a thousand events may change the
relations of a people, not only may different governments
be good for different peoples, but for the same people
at different timea

To try and give an idea of the different relations that
may exist between these two extremes, I will take for
an example the number of the people, as a relation most
easy to express.

Let us suppose that the State is composed of ten
thousand citizens. The sovereign can only be considered
collectively and as a body; but every private person, in his
capacity of subject, is considered as an individual; there-
fore, the sovereign is to the subject as ten thousand is
to one, that is, each member of the State has as his share
only one ten-thousandth part of the sovereign authority,
although he is entirely subjected to it.

If the nation consists of a hundred thousand men, the
position of the subjects does not change, and each alike is
subjected to the whole authority of the laws, while his vote
reduced to one hundred-thousandth, has ten times less
influence in their enactment. The subject, then, always
remaining a unit, the proportional power of the sovereign
increases in the ratio of the ntmiber of the citizens.
Whence it follows that the more the State is enlarged,
the more does liberty diminisn.

When I say that the proportional power increases, I
mean that it is farther removed from equality. There-
fore, the grater the ratio is in the geometrical sense,
the less is the ratio in the common acceptation; in the

52 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

former, the ratio, considered according to quantity, is
measured by the exponent, and in the other, considered
according to identity, it is estimated by the similarity.

Now, the less the particular wills correspond with the
general will, that is, customs with laws, the more should
the repressive power be increased* The government,
then, in order to be eflEective, should be relatively stronger
in proportion as the people are more numerous.

On the other hand, as the aggrandizement of the State
gives the depositaries of the public authority more tempta-
tions and more opportunities to abuse their power, the
more force should the government have to restrain the
people, and the more should the sovereign have in its
turn to restrain the government. I do not speak here of
absolute force, but of the relative force of the different
parts of the State.

It follows from this double ratio that the continued pro-
portion between the sovereign, the Prince, and the people
is not an arbitrary idea, but a necessary consequence of
the nature of the body politic. It follows, further, that
one of the extremes, viz, the people, as subject, being
fixed and represented by unity, whenever the double ratio
increases or diminishes, the single ratio increases or dimin-
ishes in like manner, and consequently the middle term
is changed. This shows that there is no unique and ab-
solute constitution of government, but that there may be
as many governments different in nature as there are
States different in size.

If, for the sake of turning this system to ridicule, it
should be said that, in order to find this mean propor-
tional and form the body of the government, it is, accord-
ing to me, only necessary to take the square root of the
number of the people, I should answer that I take that
number here only as an example; that the ratios of which
I speak are not measured only by the number of men,
but in general by the quantity of action, which results
from the combination of multitudes of causes; that, more-
over, if for the purpose of expressing myself in fewer
words, I borrow for a moment geometrical terms, I am
nevertheless aware that geometrical precision has no place
in moral quantities.

GOVERNMENT IN GENERAL

53

The government is on a small scale what the body
politic which includes it is on a large scale. It is a moral
person endowed with certain facnlties, active like the sover-
eign, passive like the State, and it can be resolved into other
similar relations; from which arises as a consequence a new
proportion, and yet another within this, according to the
order of the magistracies, until we come to an indivisible
middle term, that is, to a single chief or supreme magis-
trate, who may be represented, in the middle of this pro-
gression, as unity between the series of fractions and that
of the whole numbers.

Without embarrassing ourselves with this multiplication
of terms, let us be content to consider the government
as a new body in the State, distinct from the people and
from the sovereign, and intermediate between the twa

There is this essential difference between those two
bodies, that the State exists by itself, while the govern-
ment exists only through the sovereign. Thus the dom-
inant will of the Prince is, or ought to be, only the
general will, or the law; its force is only the public
force concentrated in itself; so soon as it wishes to per-
form of itself some absolute and independent act, the
connection of the whole begins to be relaxed. If, lastly,
the Prince should chance to have a particular will more
active than that of the sovereign, and if, to enforce
obedience to this particular will, it should employ the
public force which is in its hands, in such a manner that
there would be, so to speak, two sovereigns, the one de
jure and the other de facto^ the social union would im-
mediately disappear, and the body politic would be
dissolved.

Further, in order that the body of the government
may have an existence, a leal life to distinguish it from
the body of the State ; in order that all its members may
be able to act in concert and fulfill the object for which
it is instituted, a particular personality is necessary to it,
a feeling common to its members, a force, a will of its
own tending to its preservation. This individual existence
supposes assemblies, councils, a power of deliberating
and resolving, rights, titles, and privileges which belong
to the Prince exclusively, and which render the position

54 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

of the magistrate more honorable in proportion as it is
more arduous. The difficulty lies in the method of dis-
posing, within the whole, this subordinate whole, in such
a way that it may not weaken the general constitution
in strengthening its own; that its particular force, in-
tended for its own preservation, may always be kept
distinct from the public force, designed for the pres-
ervation of the State ; and, in a word, that it may always
be ready to sacrifice the government to the people, and
not the people to the government.

Moreover, although the artificial body of the govern-
ment is the work of another artificial body, and has in
some respects only a derivative and subordinate exist-
ence, that does not prevent it from acting with more or
less vigor or celerity, from enjoying, so to speak, more
or less robust health. Lastly, without directly departing
from the object for which it was instituted, it may
deviate from it more or less, according to the manner in
which it is constituted.

From all these differences arise the different relations
which the government must have with the body of the
State, so as to accord with the accidental and particular
relations by which the State itself is modified. For often
the government that is best in itself will become the
most vicious, unless its relations are changed so as to
meet the defects of the body politic to which it belongs.

CHAPTER II.

The Principle Which Constitutes the Different Forms
OF Government.

To EXPLAIN the general cause of these differences, I
must here distinguish the Prince from the government,
as I before distinguished the State from the sovereign.

The body of the magistracy may be composed of a
greater or less number of members. We said that the
ratio of the sovereign to the subjects was so much greatet

DIFFERENT FORMS OF GOVERNMENT 55

as the people were more numerous; and, by an evident
analogy, we can say the same of the government with
regard to the magistrates.

Now, the total force of the government, being always
that of the State, does not vary; whence it follows that
the more it employs this force on its own members, the
less remains for operating upon the whole people.

Consequently, the more numerous the magistrates are,
the weaker is the government. As this maxim is funda-
mental, let us endeavor to explain it more clearly.

We can distinguish in the person of the magistrate
three wills essentially diflferent: first, the will peculiar to
the individual, which tends only to his personal advantage ;
secondly, the common will of the magistrates, which has
reference solely to the advantage of the Prince, and
which may be called the corporate will, being general in
relation to the government, and particular in relation to
the State of which the government forms part; in the
third place, the will of the people, or the sovereign will,
which is general both in relation to the State considered
as the whole, and in relation to the government consid-
ered as part of the whole.

In a perfect system of legislation the particular or in-
dividual will should be inoperative; the corporate will
I)roper to the goverment quite subordinate; and conse-
quently the general or sovereign will always dominant,
and the sole rule of all the rest.

On the other hand, according to the natural order,
Aese different wills become more active in proportion as
they are concentrated. Thus the general will is always
the weakest, the corporate will has the second rank, and
the particular will the first of all; so that in the govern-
ment each member is, firstly, himself, next a magistrate,
and then a citizen — a gradation directly opposed to that
which the social order requires.

But suppose that the whole government is in the hands
of a single man, then the particular will and the corpo-
rate will are perfectly united, and consequently the latter
is in the highest possible degree of intensity. Now, as
it is on the degree of will that the exertion of force de-
pends, and as the absolute power of the government

56 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

does not vary, it follows that the most active govern-
ment is that of a single person.

On the other hand, let us tmite the government with
the legislative authority; let us make the sovereign the
Prince, and all the citizens magistrates; then the corpo*
rate will, confounded with the general will, will have no
more activity than the latter, and will leave the particu-
lar will in all its force. Thus the government, always
with the same absolute force, will be at its minimum of
relative force or activity.

These relations are incontestable, and other consider-
ations serve still further to confirm them. We see, for
example, that each magistrate is more active in his body
than each citizen is in his, and that consequently the
particular will has much more influence in the acts of
government than in those of the sovereign; for every
magistrate is almost always charged with some function
of government, whereas each citizen, taken by himself,
has no function of sovereignty. Besides, the more a
State extends, the more is its real force increased,
although it does not increase in proportion to its extent;
but, while the State remains the same, it is useless to
multiply magistrates, for the government acquires no
greater real force, inasmuch as this force is that of the
State, the quantity of which is always uniform. Thus
the relative force or activity of the government dimin-
ishes without its absolute or real force being able to in-
crease.

It is certain, moreover, that the dispatch of business is
retarded in proportion as more people are charged with
it; that, in laying too much stress on prudence, we leave
too little to fortune ; that opportunities are allowed to pass
by, and that owing to excessive deliberation the fruits of
deliberation are often lost.

I have just shown that the government is weakened in
proportion to the multiplication of magistrates, and I have
before demonstrated that the more numerous the people
are, the more ought the repressive force to be increased.
Whence it follows that the ratio between the magistrates
and the government ought to be inversely as the ratio
between the subjects and the sovereign ; that is, the more

CLASSIFICATION OF GOVERNMENTS 57

the State is enlarged, the more should the government
contract; so that the number of chiefs should diminish in
proportion as the number of the people is increased.

But I speak here only of the relative force of the gov-
ernment, and not of its rectitude ; for, on the other hand,
the more numerous the magistracy is, the more does the
corporate will approach the general will; whereas, under
a single magistrate, this same corporate will is, as I have
said, only a particular will. Thus, what is lost on one
side can be gained on the other, and the art of the legis-
lator consists of knowing how to fix the point where the
force and will of the government, always in reciprocal
proportion, are combined in the ratio most advantageous
to the State.

CHAPTER III.
Classification of Governments.

We have seen in the previous chapter why the diflEer-
ent kinds or forms of government are distinguished by
the number of members that compose them; it remains
to be seen in the present chapter how this division is
made.

The sovereign may, in the first place, commit the
charge of the government to the whole people, or to the
greater part of the people, in 'such a way that there may
be more citizens who are magistrates than simple indi-
vidual citizens. We call this form of government de-
mocracy.

Or it may confine the government to a small number,
so that there may be more ordinary citizens than magis-
trates; and this form bears the name of aristocracy.

Lastly, it may concentrate the whole government in
the hands of a single magistrate from whom all the rest
derive their power. This third form is the most com-
mon, and is called monarchy, or royal government.

We should remark that all these forms, or at least the
first two, admit of degrees, and may indeed have a con-
siderable range; for democracy may embrace the whole
people, or be limited to a half. Aristocracy, in its turn, may

58 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

restrict itself from a half of the x>eople to the smallest
number indeterminately. Royalty even is susceptible of
some division. Sparta by its constitution always had two
kings; and in the Roman Empire there were as many as
eight Emperors at once without its being possible to say
that the Empire was divided. Thus there is a point at
which each form of government blends with the next;
and we see that» under three denominations only, the
government is really susceptible of as many different
forms as the State has citizens.

What is more, this same government being in certain
respects capable of subdivision into other parts, one ad-
ministered in one way, another in another, there may
result from combinations of these three forms a multi-
tude of mixed forms, each of which can be multiplied by
all the simple forms.

In all ages there has been much discussion about the
best form of government, without consideration of the
fact that each of them is the best in certain cases, and.
the worst in others.

If, in the different States, the number of the supreme
magistrates should be in inverse ratio to that of the cit-
izens, it follows that, in general, democratic government
is suitable to small States, aristocracy to those of mod-
erate size, and monarchy to large ones. This rule fol-
lows immediately from the principle. But how is it
possible to estimate the multitude of circumstances which
may furnish exceptions?

CHAPTER IV.
Democracy.*

He that makes the law knows better than any one how
it should be executed and interpreted. It would seem,
then, that there could be no better constitution than one
in which the executive power is united with the legisla-
tive; but it is that very circumstance which makes a

* Plato treated democracy as a debased form of commonwealth,
characterized by an excessive freedom tending to degenerate into
license («RepubUc» VIII.).— Ed.

DEMOCRACY 59

democratic government inadequate in certain respects^
because things which ought to be distinguished are not,
and because the Prince and the sovereign, being the same
person, only form as it were a government without gov-
ernment.

It is not expedient that he who makes the laws should
execute them, nor that the body of the people should
divert its attention from general considerations in order to
bestow it on particular objects. Nothing is more danger-
ous than the influence of private interests on public affairs;
and the abuse of the laws by the government is a less
evil than the corruption of the legislator, which is the
infallible result of the pursuit of private interests. For
when the State is changed in its substance all reform
becomes impossible. A people which would never abuse
the government would likewise never abuse its independ-
ence; a x)eople which always governed well would not need
to be governed.

Taking the term in its strict sense, there never has
existed, and never will exist, any true democracy. It is
contrary to the natural order that the majority should
govern and that the minority should be governed. It is
impossible to imagine that the people should remain in
perpetual assembly to attend to public affairs, and it is
easily apparent that commissions could not be established
for that purpose without the form of administration being
changed.

In fact, I think I can lay down as a principle that when
the functions of government are shared among several
magistracies, the least numerous acquire, sooner or later,
the greatest authority, if only on account of the facility
in transacting business which naturally leads them on to
that.

Moreover, how many things difficult to combine does
not this government presuppose ! First, a very small State,
in which the people may be readily assembled, and in
which every citizen can easily know all the rest; secondly,
great simplicity of manners, which prevents a multiplicity
of affairs and thorny discussions; next, considerable
equality in rank and fortune, without which equality in
rights and authority could not long subsist; lastly, little

6o THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

or no luxury, for luxury is either the effect of wealth or
renders it necessary; it corrupts both the rich and the
poor, the former by possession, the latter by covetous-
ness; it betrays the country to effeminacy and vanity; it
deprives the State of all its citizens in order to subject
them one to another, and all to opinion.

That is why a famous author has assigned virtue as the
principle of a republic, for all these conditions could not
subsist without virtue; but through not making the
necessary distinctions, this brilliant genius has often
lacked precision and sometimes clearness, and has not
seen that the sovereign authority being everjrwhere the
same, the same principle ought to have a place in every
well-constituted State, in a greater or less degree, it is
true, according to the form of government.

Let us add that there is no government so subject to
civil wars and internal agitation as the democratic or
popular, because there is none which tends so strongly
and so constantly to change its form, none which de-
mands more vigilance and courage to be maintained in
its own form. It is esx)ecially in this constitution that
the citizen should arm himself with strength and stead-
fastness, and say every day of his life from the bottom
of his heart what a virtuous Palatine said in the Diet of
Poland: Malo periculosam libertatem quant quietum serv-
itium.

If there were a nation of gods, it would be governed
democratically. So perfect a government is unstiited to
men.

CHAPTER V.
Aristocracy.

We have here two moral persons quite distinct, viz,
the government and the sovereign; and consequently two
general wills, the one having reference to all the citizens,
the other only to the members of the administration.
Thus, although the government can regulate its internal
policy as it pleases, it can never speak to the people except

ARISTOCRACY 6i

in the name of the sovereign, that is, in the name of the
people themselves. This must never be forgotten.

The earliest societies were aristocratically governed.
The heads of families deliberated among themselves
about public affairs. The young men yielded readily to
the authority of experience. Hence the names priests,
ELDERS, senate, gerontes. The savages of North America
are still governed in this way at the present time, and
are very well governed.

But in proportion as the inequality due to institutions
prevailed over natural inequality, wealth or power*
was preferred to age, and aristocracy became elective.
Finally, the i>ower transmitted with the father's property
to the children, rendering the families patrician, made
the government hereditary and there were senators only
twenty years old.

There are, then, three kinds of aristocracy — natural,
elective, and hereditary. The first is only suitable for
simple nations; the third is the worst of all govern-
ments. The second is the best; it is aristocracy properly
so-called.

Besides the advantage of the distinction between the
two powers, aristocracy has that of the choice of its
members; for in a popular government all the citizens
are bom magistrates; but this one limits them to a
small ntmiber, and they become magistrates by election
only;f a method by which probity, intelligence, ex-
perience, and all other grounds of preference and public
esteem are so many fresh guarantees that men will be
wisely governed.

Further, assemblies are more easily convoked; affairs
are better discussed and are dispatched with greater or-
der and diligence ; while the credit of the State is better

* It is dear that the vrord optimates among the ancients did not
mean the best, but the most powerful

t It is very important to reg^tdate by law the form of election of
magistrates; for, in leaving it to the will of the Prince, it is impos-
sible to avoid falling into hereditary aristocracy, as happened in the
republics of Venice and Berne. In consequence, the first has long
been a decaying State, but the second is maintained by the ex-
treme wisdom of its Senate ; it is a very honorable and a very dangerous
exception.

62 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

maintained abroad by venerable senators than by an
unknown or despised multitude.

In a word, it is the best and most natural order of
things that the wisest should govern the multitude,
when we are sure that they will govern it for its ad-
vantage and not for their own. We should not uselessly
multiply means, nor do with twenty thousand men what
a hundred chosen men can do still better. But we
must observe that the corporate interest begins here to
direct the public force in a less degree according to the
rule of the general will, and that another inevitable pro-
pensity deprives the laws of a part of the executive
power.

With regard to special expediences, a State must not
be so small, nor a people so simple and upright, that
the execution of the laws should follow immediately upon
the public will as in a good democracy. Nor again must
a nation be so large that the chief men, who are dis-
persed in order to govern it, can set up as sovereigns,
each in his own province, and begin by making them-
selves independent so as at last to become masters.

But if aristocracy requires a few virtues less than pop-
ular government, it requires also others that are pecul-
iarly its own, such as moderation among the rich and
contentment among the poor; for a rigorous equality
would seem to be out of place in it, and was not even
observed in Sparta.

Besides, if this form of government comports with a
certain inequality of fortune, it is expedient in general
that the administration of public affairs should be in-
trusted to those that are best able to devote their whole
time to it, but not, as Aristotle maintains, that the rich
should always be preferred. On the contrary, it is im-
portant that an opposite choice should sometimes teach
the people that there are, in men's personal merits, rea-
sons for preference more important than wealth.

CHAPTER VI.
Monarchy.

We have hitherto considered the Prince as a moral and
collective x)erson united by the force of the laws, and as
the depositary of the executive power in the State. We
have now to consider this power concentrated in the
hands of a natural person, of a real man, who alone has
a right to dispose of it according to the laws. He is what
is called a monarch or a king.

Quite the reverse of the other forms of administration,
in which a collective being represents an individual, in
this one an individual represents a collective being; so
that the moral unity that constitutes it is at the same
time a physical unity, in which all the powers that the
law combines in the other with so much effort are
combined naturally.

Thus the will of the people, the will of the Prince, the
public force of the State, and the particular force of the
government, all obey the same motive power; all
the springs of the machine are in the same hand, every-
thing works for the same end; there are no opposite
movements that counteract one another, and no kind of
constitution can be imagined in which a more considera-
ble action is produced with less effort. Archimedes,
quietly seated on the shore, and launching without diffi-
culty a large vessel, represents to me a skillful monarch,
governing from his cabinet his vast States, and, while
he appears motionless, setting everything in motion.

But if there is no government which has more vigor,
there is none in which the particular will has more sway
and more easily governs others. Everything works for
the same end, it is true; but this end is not the public
welfare, and the very power of the administration turns
continually to the prejudice of the State.

Kings wish to be absolute, and from afar men cry to
them that the best way to become so is to make them-
selves beloved by their people. This maxim is very fine,

(63)

64 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

and also very true in certain resx)ects; unfortunately it will
always be ridiculed in courts. Power which springs from
the affections of the people is doubtless the greatest, but
it is precarious and conditional; princes will never be
satisfied with it. The best kings wish to have the power
of being wicked if they please, without ceasing to be
masters. A political preacher will tell them in vain that,
the strength of the people being their own, it is their
greatest interest that the people should be flourishing,
numerous, and formidable; they know very well that that
is not true. Their personal interest is, in the first place,
that the people should be weak and miserable, and
should never be able to resist them. Supposing all the
subjects always perfectly submissive, I admit that it would
then be the prince's interest that the people should be
powerful, in order that this power, being his own, might
render him formidable to his neighbors; but as this
interest is only secondary and subordinate, and as the
two suppositions are incompatible, it is natural that
princes should always give preference to the maxim
which is most immediately useful to them. It is this
that Samuel strongly represented to the Hebrews; it is
this that Machiavelli clearly demonstrated. While pre-
tending to give lessons to kings, he gave great ones to
peoples. The * Prince* of Machiavelli is the book of
republicans.*

We have found, by general considerations, that mon-
archy is suited only to large States; and we shall find
this again by examining monarchy itself. The more
numerous the public administrative body is, the more
does the ratio of the Prince to the subjects diminish
and approach equality, so that this ratio is unity or

* Machiavelli was an honorable man and a good citizen; but,
attached to the bouse of the Medici, he was forced, during the oppres-
sion of his country, to conceal his love for liberty. The mere choice
of his execrable hero sufficiently manifests his secret intention; and
the opposition between the maxims of his book the ^Prince* and
those of his ^ Discourses on Titus Livius * and his ^ History of Flor-
ence, '^ shows that this profound politician has had hitherto only
superficial or corrupt readers. The court of Rome Has strictly pro-
hibited his book; I certainly believe it, for it is that court which he
most clearly depicts.

MONARCHY 6$

equality, even in a democracy. This same ratio increases
in proportion as the government contracts, and is at its
maximum when the government is in the hands of a
single person. Then the distance between the Prince
and the people is too great, and the State lacks cohesion.
In order to unify it, then, intermediate orders, princes,
grandees, and nobles, are required to fill them. Now,
nothing at all of this kind is proper for a small State,
which would be ruined by all these orders.

But if it is difficult for a great State to be well gov-
erned, it is much more so for it to be well governed by
a single man; and every one knows what happens when
the king appoints deputies.

One essential and inevitable defect, which will always
render a monarchical government inferior to a republican
one, is that in the latter the public voice hardly ever
raises to the highest posts any but enlightened and ca-
pable men, who fill them honorably; whereas those who
succeed in monarchies are most frequently only petty
mischief-makers, petty knaves, petty intriguers, whose
petty talents, which enable them to attain high posts in
courts, only serve to show the public their ineptitude as
soon as they have attained them. The people are much
less mistaken about their choice than the prince is; and
a man of real merit is almost as rare in a royal minis-
try as a fool at the head of a republican government.
Therefore, when by some fortunate chance one of these
bom rulers takes the helm of affairs in a monarchy almost
wrecked by such a fine set of ministers, it is quite aston-
ishing what resources he finds, and his accession to power
forms an epoch in a country.

In order that a monarchical State might be well gov-
erned, it would be necessary that its greatness or extent
should be proportioned to the abilities of him that gov-
erns. It is easier to conquer than to rule. With a suf-
ficient lever, the world may be moved by a finger; but
to support it the shoulders of Hercules are required.
However small a State may be, the prince is almost
always too small for it. When, on the contrary, it hap-
pens that the State is too small for its chief, which is
very rare, it is still badly governed, because the chief,
s

66 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

always pursuing his own great designs, forgets the inter-
ests of the people, and renders them no less unhappy by
the abuse of his transcendent abilities, than an inferior
chief by his lack of talent. It would be necessary, so to
speak, that a kingdom should be enlarged or contracted
in every reign, according to the capacity of the prince;
whereas, the talents of a senate having more definite lim-
its, the State may have permanent boundaries, and the
administration prosper equally well.

The most obvious inconvenience of the government of
a single person is the lack of that tminterrupted succes-
sion which forms in the two others a continuous connec-
tion. One king being dead, another is necessary; elections
leave dangerous intervals; they are stormy; and unless
the citizens are of a disinterestedness, an integrity, which
this government hardly admits of, intrigue and corrup-
tion intermingle with it. It would be hard for a man to
whom the State has been sold not to sell it in his turn,
uid indemnify himself out of the helpless for the money
which the powerful have extorted from him. Sooner or
later everything becomes venal under such an adminis-
tration, and the peace which is then enjoyed under a king
Is worse than the disorder of an interregnum.

What has been done to prevent these evils? Crowns
have been made hereditary in certain families; and an
order of succession has been established which prevents
any dispute on the demise of kings; that is to say, the
inconvenience of regencies being substituted for that of
elections, an appearance of tranquillity has been preferred
to a wise administration, and men have preferred to risk
having as their chiefs children, monsters, and imbeciles,
rather than have a dispute about the choice of good
kings. They have not considered that in thus exposing
themselves to the risk of this alternative, they put almost
all the chances against themselves. That was a very
sensible answer of Dionysius the younger, to whom his
father, in reproaching him with a dishonorable action,
said; *Have I set you the example in this?* "Ah!*
replied the son, *your father was not a king.*

All things conspire to deprive of justice and reason a
man brought up to govern others. Much trouble is taken.

MONARCHY 67

so it is said, to teach young princes the art of reigning;
this education does not appear to profit them. It would
be better to begin by teaching them the art of obeying.
The greatest kings that history has celebrated were not
trained to rule; that is a science which men are never
less masters of than after excessive study of it, and it is
better acquired by obeying than by ruling. Nam utilissimus
idem ac brevissimus bonarum malarumque rerum delectus^
cogitan quid aut nolueris sub alio principe^ aut volueris,

A result of this want of cohesion is the instability of
royal government, which, being regulated sometimes on
one plan, sometimes on another, according to the charac
ter of the reigning prince or that of the x>ersons who
reign for him, cannot long pursue a fixed aim or a con-
sistent course of conduct, a variableness which always
makes the State fluctuate between maxim and maxim,
project and project, and which does not exist in other
governments, where the Prince is always the same. So
we see that, in general, if there is more cunning in a
court, there is more wisdom in a senate, and that repub-
lics pursue their ends by more steadfast and regular
methods; whereas every revolution in a royal ministry
produces one in the State, the maxim common to all min-
isters, and to almost all kings, being to reverse in every
respect the acts of their predecessors.

From this same want of cohesion is obtained the solu-
tion of a sophism very familiar to royal politicians; this
is not only to compare civil government with domestic
government, and the prince with the father of a family,
an error already refuted, but, further, to ascribe freely
to this magistrate all the virtues which he might have
occasion for, and always to suppose that the prince is
what he ought to be — on which supposition royal gov-
ernment is manifestly preferable to every other, because
it is incontestably the strongest, and because it only
lacks a corporate will more conformable to the general
will to be also the best.

But if, according to Plato, a king by nature is so rare
a personage, how many times will nature and fortune
conspire to crown him ? And if the royal education nec-
essarily corrupts those who receive it, what should be

68 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

expected from a succession of men trained to rule? It
is, then, voluntary self-deception to confuse royal govern-
ment with that of a good king. To see what this gov-
ernment is in itself, we must consider it under incapable
or wicked princes; for such will come to the throne, or
the throne will make them such.

These difficulties have not escaped our authors, but
they have not been embarrassed by them. The remedy,
they say, is to obey without murmuring; God gives bad
kings in his wrath, and we must endure them as chas-
tisements of heaven. Such talk is doubtless edifying,
but I am inclined to think it would be more appropriate
in a pulpit than in a book on politics. What should we
say of a physician who promises miracles, and whose
whole art consists in exhorting the sick man to be
patient? We know well that when we have a bad gov-
ernment it must be endured; the question is to find a
good one.

CHAPTER VIL
Mixed Governments.

Properly speaking, there is no simple government.
A single chief must have subordinate magistrates; a
popular government must have a head. Thus, in the
partition of the executive power, there is always a grada-
tion from the greater number to the less, with this dif-
ference, that sometimes the majority depends on the
minority, and sometimes the minority on the majority.

Sometimes there is an equal division, either when the
constituent parts are in mutual dependence, as in the
government of England; or when the authority of each
part is independent, but imperfect, as in Poland. This
latter form is bad, because there is no unity in the gov-
ernment, and the State lacks cohesion.

Is a simple or mixed government the better ? A ques-
tion much debated among publicists, and one to which
the same answer must be made that I have before made
about every form of government.

RELATIVITY OP FORMS OF GOVERNMENT 69

The simple government is the better in itself, for the
reason that it is simple. But when the executive power is
not sufficiently dependent on the legislative, that is, when
there is a greater proportion between the Prince and
the sovereign than between the people and the Prince,
this want of proportion must be remedied by dividing
the government; for then all its parts have no less au-
thority over the subjects, and their division renders them
all together less strong against the sovereign.

The same inconvenience is also provided against by
the establishment of intermediate magistrates, who, leav-
ing the government in its entirety, only serve to balance
the two powers and maintain their respective rights.
Then the government is not mixed, but temperate.

The opposite inconvenience can be remedied by similar
means, and, when the government is too lax, tribunals
may be erected to concentrate it. That is customary in
all democracies. In the first case the government is
divided in order to weaken it, and in the second in
order to strengthen it; for the maximtmi of strength and
also of weakness is found in simple governments, while
the mixed forms give a medium strength.

CHAPTER VIII.

That Every Form of Government is Not Fit for
Every Country.

Liberty, not being a fruit of all climates, is not within
the reach of all peoples. The more we consider this
principle established by Montesquieu, the more do we
perceive its truth; the more it is contested, the greater
opportunity is given to establish it by new proofs.

In all the governments of the world, the public person
constmies, but produces nothing. Whence, then, comes
the substance it consumes ? From the labor of its mem-
bers. It is the superfluity of individuals that supplies the
necessaries of the public. Hence it follows that the civil
State can subsist only so long as men's labor produces
more than they need.

TO THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

Now this excess is not the same in all countries of the
world. In several it is considerable, in others moderate,
in others nothing, in others a minus quantity. This pro-
portion depends on the fertility due to climate, on the
kind of labor which the soil requires, on the nature of its
products, on the physical strength of its inhabitants, on
the greater or less consumption that is necessary to
them, and on several other like proportions of which it
is composed.

On the other hand, all governments are not of the same
nature; there are some more or less wasteful; and the
differences are based on this other principle, that the
further the public contributions are removed from their
source, the more burdensome they are. We must not
measure this burden by the amount of the imposts, but
by the distance they have to traverse in order to return
to the hands from which they have come. When this
circulation is prompt and well-established, it matters not
whether little or much is paid ; the people are always rich,
and the finances are always prosperous. On the other
hand, however little the people may contribute, if this
little does not revert to them, they are soon exhausted
by constantly giving; the State is never rich and the
people are always in beggary.

It follows from this that the more the distance between
the people and the government is increased, the more
burdensome do the tributes become; therefore, in a
democracy the people are least encumbered, in an aris-
tocracy they are more so, and in a monarchy they bear
the greatest weight. Monarchy, then, is suited only
to wealthy nations; aristocracy, to States moderate
both in wealth and size; democracy, to small and poor
States.

Indeed, the more we reflect on it, the more do we find
in this the difference between free and monarchical
States. In the first, everything is used for the common
advantage; in the others, public and private resources
are reciprocal, and the former are increased by the dimi-
nution of the latter; lastly, instead of governing subjects
in order to make them happy, despotism renders them
miserable in order to govern them.

RELATIVITY OP FORMS OP GOVERNMENT 71

There are, then, in every climate natural causes by
which we can assign the form of government which is
adapted to the nature of the climate, and even say what
kind of inhabitants the country should have.

Unfruitful and barren places, where the produce does
not repay the labor, ought to remain uncultivated and
deserted, or should only be peopled by savages; places
where men's toil yields only bare necessaries ought to be
inhabited by barbarous nations; in them any polity would
be an impossibility. Places where the excess of the
produce over the labor is moderate are suitable for free
nations; those in which abundant and fertile soil yields
much produce for little labor are willing to be governed
monarchically, in order that the superfluity of the sub-
jects may be consumed by the luxuries of the Prince;
for it is better that this excess should be absorbed by
the government than squandered by private persons.
There are exceptions, I know; but these exceptions
themselves confirm the rule, in that, sooner or later,
they produce revolutions which restore things to their
natural order.

We should always distinguish general laws from the
particular causes which may modify their effects. If
the whole south should be covered with republics, and
the whole north with despotic States, it would not be
less true that, through the influence of climate, despotism
is suitable to warm countries, barbarism to cold countries,
and a good polity to intermediate regions. I see, how-
ever, that while the principle is admitted, its application
may be disputed; it will be said that some cold countries
are very fertile, and some southern ones very unfruitful.
But this is a di£Biculty only for those who do not examine
the matter in all its relations. It is necessary, as I
have already said, to reckon those connected with labor,
resources, consumption, etc.

Let us suppose that the produce of two districts equal
in area is in the ratio of five to ten. If the inhabitants
of the former consume four and those of the latter nine
parts, the surplus produce of the first will be one-fifth,
and that of the second one-tenth. The ratio between
these two surpluses being then inversely as that of the

72 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

produce of each, the district which yields only five will
give a surplus double that of the district which pro-
duces ten.

But it is not a question of double produce, and I do not
think that any one dare, in general, place the fertility of
cold countries even on an equality with that of warm
countries. Let us, however, assume this equality; let us,
if you will, put England in the scales with Sicily, and
Poland with Egypt; more to the south we shall have
Africa and India; more to the north we shall have
nothing. For this equality in produce what a difference
in the cultivation! In Sicily it is only necessary to
scratch the soil; in England what care is needed to till
it! But where more exertion is required to ]rield the
same produce, the surplus must necessarily be very small.

Consider, besides this, that the same number of men
consume much less in warm countries. The climate
demands that people should be temperate in order to be
healthy; Europeans who want to live as at home all die
of dysentery and dyspepsia. *We are,* says Chardin,
* carnivorous beasts, wolves, in comparison with Asiatics.
Some attribute the temperance of the Persians to the
fact that their country is scantily cultivated; I believe,
on the contrary, that their country is not very abimdant
in provisions because the inhabitants need very little. If
their frugality,* he continues, •resulted from the poverty
of the country, it would be only the poor who would eat
little, whereas it is the people generally; and more or
less would be consumed in each province, according to
the fertility of the country, whereas the same abstem-
iousness is found throughout the kingdom. They pride
themselves greatly on their mode of living, sapng that
it is only necessary to look at their complexions, to see
how much superior they are to those of Christians. In-
deed, the complexions of the Persians are smooth; they
have beautiful skins, delicate and clear: while the com-
plexions of their subjects, the Armenians, who live in
European fashion, are rough and blotched, and their
bodies are coarse and heavy.*

The nearer we approach the Equator, the less do the
people live upon. They eat scarcely any meat; rice.

RELATIVITY OP FORMS OF GOVERNMENT 73

maize, cuzcus^ millet^ cassava, are their ordinary foods.
There are in India millions of men whose diet does not
cost a half -penny a day. We see even in Europe palpa-
ble differences in appetite between northern and south-
em nations. A Spaniard will live for eight days on a
German's dinner. In countries where men are most
voracious luxury is directed to matters of consumption;
in England it is displayed in a table loaded with meats;
in Italy you are regaled with sugar and flowers.

Again, luxury in dress presents similar differences.
In climates where the changes of the seasons are sudden
and violent, garments are better and simpler; in those
where people dress only for ornament, splendor is more
sought after than utility, for clothes themselves are a
luxury. At Naples you will see men every day walking
to Posilippo with gold-embroidered coats, and no stock-
ings. It is the same with regard to buildings; everything
is sacrificed to magnificence when there is nothing to fear
from injury by the atmosphere. In Paris and in London
people must be warmly and comfortably housed; in
Madrid they have superb drawing-rooms, but no windows
that shut, while they sleep in mere closets.

The foods are much more substantial and nutritious in
warm countries; this is a third difference which cannot
fail to influence the second. Why do people eat so many
vegetables in Italy? Because they are good, nourishing,
and of excellent flavor. In France, where they are grown
only on water, they are not nourishing and count almost
for nothing on the table; they do not, however, occupy
less ground, and they cost at least as much labor to
cultivate. It is found by experience that the wheats of
Barbary, infetior in other respects to those of France,
yield much more flour, and that those of France, in
their turn, yield more than the wheats of the north.
Whence we may infer that a similar gradation is observ-
able generally, in the same direction, from the Equator
to the Pole. Now is it not a manifest disadvantage to
have in an equal quantity of produce a smaller quantity
of nutriment ?

To all these different considerations I may add one
which springs from, and strengthens, them; it is that

74 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

warm countries have less need of inhabitants than cold
countries, but would be able to maintain a greater num-
ber; hence a double surplus is produced, always to the
advantage of despotism. The greater the surface occu-
pied by the same number of inhabitants, the more difScult
do rebellions become, because meastires cannot be con-
certed promptly and secretly, and because it is always
easy for the government to discover the plans and cut
oflf communications. But the more closely packed a
numerous population is, the less power has a government
to usurp the sovereignty; the chiefs deliberate as securely
in their cabinets as the prince in his council, and the
multitude assemble in the squares as quickly as the
troops in their quarters. The advantage, then, of a
tyrannical government lies in this, that it acts at great
distances. By help of the points of support which it
procures, its power increases with the distance, like that
of levers. ♦ That of the people, on the other hand, acts
only when concentrated; it evai>orates and disappears as it
extends, like the effect of powder scattered on the ground,
which takes fire only grain by grain. The least popu-
lous countries are thus the best adapted for tyraimy;
wild beasts reign only in deserts.

CHAPTER IX.

The Marks of a Good Government.

When, then, it is asked absolutely which is the best
government, an insoluble and likewise indeterminate
question is propounded; or, if you will, it has as many
correct solutions as there are possible combinations in the
absolute and relative positions of the nations.

* This does not contradict what I said before ( Book II. chapter ix. )
on the inconveniences of large States; for there it was a question of the
authority of the government over its members, and here it is a question
of its .power against its subjects. Its scattered members serve as points
of support to it for operating at a distance upon the people, but it has no
point of support for acting on its members themselves. Thus, the length
of the lever is the cause of its weakness in the one case, and of its
strength in the other.

THE MARKS OP A GOOD GOVERNMENT 75

But if it were asked by what sign it can be known
whether a given people is well or ill governed, that
would be a different matter, and the question of fact
might be determined.

It is however, not settled, because every one wishes to
decide it in his own way. Subjects extol the public tran-
quillity, citizens the liberty of individuals; the former
prefer security of possessions, the latter, that of persons ;
the former are of opinion that the best government is
the most severe, the latter maintain that it is the mild-
est; the one party wish that crimes should be punished
and the other that they should be prevented; the one
party think it well to be feared by their neighbors, the
other party prefer to be unacquainted with them; the
one party are satisfied when money circulates, the othet
party demand that the people should have bread.
Even though there should be agreement on these and
other similar points, would further progress be made ?
Since moral quantities lack a precise mode of measure-
ment, even if people were in accord about the sign, how
could they be so about the valuation of it?

For my part, I am always astonished that people fail
to recognize a sign so simple, or that they should have
the insincerity not to agree about it. What is the object
of political association ? It is the preservation and pros-
perity of its members. And what is the surest sign
that they are preserved and prosperous ? It is their num-
ber and population. Do not, then, go and seek elsewhere
for this sign so much discussed. All other things being
equal, the government under which, without external
aids, without naturalizations, and without colonies, the
citizens increase and multiply most, is infallibly the best.
That under which a people diminishes and decays, is the
worst. Statisticians, it is now your business; reckon,
measure, compare. *

*On the same principle must be jndged the centuries which deserve
preference in respect (^ the prosperity of the human race. Those in
which literature and art were seen to flourish have been too much
sdmirad without the secret object of their cultivation being penetrated,
without their fatal consequences being considered: Idque afiud «m-
Ptriios humaniias vocabatur^ quum pars strvitutis esset. Shall we
never detect in the maxims of books the gross self-interest which

CHAPTER X.

The Abuse of the Government and Its Tendency to
Degenerate.

As the particular will acts incessantly against the gen-
eral willy so the government makes a continual efiFort
against the sovereignty. The more this effort is increased,
the more is the constitution altered; and as there is here
no other corporate will which, by resisting that of the
Prince, may produce equilibrium with it, it must happen
sooner or later that the Prince at length oppresses the
sovereign and violates the social treaty. Therein is the
inherent and inevitable vice, which, from the birth of
the body politic, tends without intermission to destroy it,
just as old age and death at length destroy the human body.

There are two general ways by which a government
degenerates, viz, when it contracts, or when the State is
dissolved.

makes the authors speak ? No, whatever they may say, when, notwith-
Btanding its briUlancy, a country is being depopulated, it is untrue that
all goes well, and it is not enough that a poet should have an income of
100,000 livres for his epoch to be the best of all The apparent repose
and tranquillity of the chief men must be regarded less than the welfare
of nations as a whole, and especially that of the most populous States.
Hail lays waste a few cantons, but it rarely causes scarcity. Riots and
civil wars greatly startle the chief men ; but they do not produce the real
misfortunes of nations, which may even be abated, while it is being dis-
puted who shall tyrannize over them. It is from their permanent con-
dition that their real prosperity or calamities spring; when all is left
crushed under the yoke, it is then that everything perishes ; it is then
that the chief men, destro3ring them at their leisure, ubi solitudinem
faciunt, pacem appellant. When the broils of the great agitated the
kingdom of Prance, and the coadjutor of Paris carried a poniard in his
pocket to the Parlement^ that did not prevent the Prench nation from
living happily and harmoniously in free and honorable ease. Greece of
old flourished in the midst of the most cruel wars; blood flowed there in
streams and the whole country was covered with men. It seemed, said
Machiavelli, that amid murders, proscriptions and civil wars, our repub-
lic became more powerful; the virtues of its citizens, their manners,
their independence, were more effectual in strengthening it than all
its dissensions had been in weakening it. A little agitation gives energy
to men's minds, and what makes the race truly prosperous is not so
much peace as liberty.
(76)

THE ABUSE OF THE GOVERNMENT 77

The govemznent contracts when it passes from the ma-
jority to the minority, that is, from democracy to aris-
tocracy, and from aristocracy to royalty. That is its
natural tendency. If it retrograded from the minority to
the majority, it might be said to relax; but this inverse
progress is impossible.

In reality, the government never changes its form ex-
cept when its exhausted energy leaves it too weak to
preserve itself; and if it becomes still more relaxed as it
extends, its force will be annihilated, and it will no longer
subsist. We must therefore concentrate the energy as it
dwindles; otherwise the State which it sustains will fall
into ruin.

The dissolution of the State may occur in two ways.

Firstly, when the Prince no longer administers the State
in accordance with the laws and effects a usurpation of
the sovereign power. Then a remarkable change takes
place — the State, and not the government, contracts; I
mean that the State dissolves, and that another is formed
within it, which is composed only of the members of the
government, and which is to the rest of the people noth-
ing more than their master and their tyrant So that as
soon as the government usurps the sovereignty, the social
compact is broken, and all the ordinary citizens, right-
fully regaining their natural liberty, are forced, but not
morally bound, to obey.

The same thing occurs also when the members of the
government usurp separately the power which they ought
to exercise only collectively; which is no less a violation
of the laws, and occasions still greater disorder. Then
there are, so to speak, as many Princes as magistrates;
and the State, not less divided than the government,
perishes or changes its form.

When the State is broken up, the abuse of the gov-
ernment, whatever it may be, takes the common name of
ANARCHY. To distinguish, democracy degenerates into
OCHLOCRACY, aristocracy into oligarchy; I should add
that royalty degenerates into tyranny ; but this last word
is equivocal and requires explanation.

In the vulgar sense a tjrrant is a king who governs with
violence and without regard to justice and the laws. In

78 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

the strict sense, a tyrant is a private person who arro-
gates to himself the royal authority without having a
right to it It is in this sense that the Greeks under-
stood the word tyrant; they bestowed it indifferently on
good and bad princes whose authority was not legitimate.
Thus TYRANT and usurper are two words perfectly s)m-
onymous.

To give different names to different things, I call the
usurper of royal authority a tyrant, and the usurper of
sovereign power a despot. The tyrant is he who, con-
trary to the laws, takes upon himself to govern according
to the laws; the despot is he who sets himself above the
laws themselves. Thus the tyrant cannot be a despot,
but the despot is always a tyrant.

CHAPTER XI.
The Dissolution or the Body Politic.

Such is the natural and inevitable tendency of the best
constituted governments. If Sparta and Rome have per-
ished, what State can hope to endure for ever? If we
wish to form a durable constitution, let us, then, not
dream of making it eternal. In order to succeed we must
not attempt the impossible, nor flatter ourselves that we
are giving to the work of men a stability which human
things do not admit of.

The body politic, as well as the human body, begins
to die from its birth, and bears in itself the causes of its
own destruction. But both may have a constitution more
or less robust, and fitted to preserve them a longer or shorter
time. The constitution of man is the work of nature;
that of the State is the work of art. It does not rest
with men to prolong their lives; it does rest with them
to prolong that of the State as far as possible, by giving
it the best constitution practicable. The best constituted
will come to an end, but not so soon as another, unless
some unforeseen accident brings about its premature de-
struction.

HOW SOVEREIGN AUTHORITY IS MAINTAINED 79

The principle of political life is in the sovereign author-
ity. The legislative power is the heart of the State ; the
executive power is its brain, giving movement to all the
parts. The brain may be paralyzed and yet the individ-
ual may live. A man remains an imbecile and lives; but
so soon as the heart ceases its functions, the animal dies.

It is not by laws that the State subsists, but by the
legislative power. The law of yesterday is not binding
to-day; but tacit consent is presumed from silence, and
the sovereign is supposed to confirm continually the laws
which it does not abrogate when able to do so. What-
ever it has once declared that it wills, it wills always,
unless the declaration is revoked.

Why, then, do people show so much respect for ancient
laws? It is on account of their antiquity. We must
believe that it is only the excellence of the ancient laws
which has enabled them to be so long preserved; unless
the sovereign has recognized them as constantly salutary,
it would have revoked them a thousand times. That is
why, far from being weakened, the laws are ever acquir-
ing fresh vigor in every well-constituted State; the prej-
udice in favor of antiquity renders them more vener-
able every day; while, wherever laws are weakened as
they grow old, this fact proves that there is no longer
any legislative power, and that the State no longer lives.

CHAPTER XII.
How THE Sovereign Authority is Maintained.

The sovereign, having no other force than the legisla-
tive i>ower, acts only through the laws; and the laws be-
ing nothing but authentic acts of the general will, the
sovereign can act only when the people are assembled.
The people assembled, it will be said: what a chimera!
It is a chimera to-day; but it was not so two thousand
years ago. Have men changed their nature ?

The limits of the possible in moral things are less nar-
row than we think; it is our weaknesses, our vices, our
prejudices, that contract them. Sordid souls do not believe

8o THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

in great men ; vile slaves smile with a mocking air at the

word LIBERTY.

From what has been done let us consider what can be
done. I shall not speak of the ancient republics of Greece;
but the Roman Republic was, it seems to me, a great
State, and the city of Rome a great city. The last cen-
sus in Rome showed that there were 400,000 citizens bear-
ing arms, and the last enumeration of the Empire showed
more than 4,000,000 citizens, without reckoning subjects,
foreigners, women, children, and slaves.

What a diflSculty, we might suppose, there would be in
assembling frequently the enormous population of the
capital and its environs. Yet few weeks passed without
the Roman people being assembled, even several times.
Not only did they exercise the rights of sovereignty, but
a part of the functions of government. They discussed
certain affairs and judged certain causes, and in the pub-
lic assembly the whole people were almost as often mag-
istrates as citizens.

By going back to the early times of nations, we should
find that the majority of the ancient governments, even
monarchical ones, like those of the Macedonians and the
Franks, had similar councils. Be that as it may, this
single incontestable fact solves all difficulties; inference
from the actual to the possible appears to me sound.

CHAPTER XIII.

How THE Sovereign Authority is Maintained —
(Continued).

It is not sufficient that the assembled people should have
once fixed the constitution of the State by giving their
sanction to a body of laws; it is not sufficient that they
should have established a perpetual government, or that
they should have once for all provided for the election
of magistrates. Besides the extraordinary assemblies
which unforeseen events may require, it is necessary
that there should be fixed and periodical ones which
nothing can abolish or prorogue; so that, on the

HOW SOVEREIGN AUTHORITY IS MAINTAINED 8i

appointed day, the people are rightfully convoked by the
law, without needing for that purpose any formal sum-
mons.

But, excepting these assemblies which are lawful by
their date alone, every assembly of the people that has
not been convoked by the magistrates appointed for that
duty and according to the prescribed forms, ought to be
regarded as unlawful and all that is done in it as invalid,
because even the order to assemble ought to emanate
from the law.

As for the more or less frequent meetings of the law-
ful assemblies, they depend on so many considerations
that no precise rules can be given about them. Only it
may be said generally that the more force a government
has the more frequently should the sovereign display
itself.

This, I shall be told, may be good for a single city;
but what is to be done when the State comprises many
cities? Will the sovereign authority be divided? Or
must it be concentrated in a single city and render sub-
ject all the rest.

I answer that neither alternative is necessary. In the
first place, the sovereign authority is simple and tm-
divided, and we cannot divide it without destroying it.
In the second place, a city, no more than a nation, can
be lawfully subject to another, because the essence of the
body politic consists in the union of obedience and liberty,
and these words, subject and sovereign, are correlatives,
the notion underlying them being expressed in the one
word citizen.

I answer, further, that it is always an evil to combine
several towns into a single State, and, in desiring to
effect such a union, we must not flatter ourselves that
we shall avoid the natural inconveniences of it. The
abuses of great States cannot be brought as an objection
against a man who only desires small ones. But how
can small States be endowed with 8u£Bicient force to
resist great ones? Just in the same way as when the
Greek towns of old resisted the Great King, and as more
recently Holland and Switzerland have resisted the House
of Austria-

82 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

If, however, the State cannot be reduced to pxx>per
limits, one resource still remains; it is not to allow any
capital, but to make the government sit alternately in
each town, and also to assemble in them by turns the
estates of the country.

People the territory uniformly, extend the same rights
everywhere, spread everywhere abundance and life; in
this way the State will become at once the strongest and
the best governed that may be possible. Remember that
the walls of the towns are formed solely of the remains
of houses in the country. For every palace that I see
rising in the capital, I seem to see a whole rural district
laid in ruins.

CHAPTER XIV.

How THE Sovereign Authority is Maintained —
(Continued.)

So soon as the people are lawfully assembled as a sov-
ereign body, the whole jurisdiction of the government
ceases, the executive i>ower is suspended, and the per-
son of the meanest citizen is as sacred and inviol-
able as that of the first magistrate, because where
the represented are, there is no longer any repre-
sentative. Most of the tumults that arose in Rome in the
cotnitia proceeded from ignorance or neglect of this rule.
The consuls were then only presidents of the people and
the tribunes simple orators; the Senate had no power at
all.

These intervals of suspension, in which the Prince
recognizes or ought to recognize the presence of a supe-
rior, have always been dreaded by that power; and these
assemblies of the people, which are the shield of the body
politic and the curb of the government, have in all ages
been the terror of the chief men; hence such men are
never wanting in solicitude, objections, obstacles, and
promises, in the endeavor to make the citizens disgusted
with the assemblies. When the latter are avaricious, cow-
ardly, pusillanimous, and more desirous of repose than of

DEPUTIES OR REPRESENTATIVES 83

freedom, they do not long hold out against the repeated
efforts of the government; and thus, as the resisting force
constantly increases, the sovereign authority at last dis-
appears, and most of the States decay and perish before
their time.

But between the sovereign authority and the arbitrary
government there is sometimes introduced an intermedi-
ate power of which I must speak.

CHAPTER XV.
Deputies or Representatives.

So soon as the service of the State ceases to be the
principal business of the citizens, and they prefer to ren-
der aid with their purses rather than their persons, the
State is already on the brink of ruin. Is it necessary to
march to battle, they pay troops and remain at home;
is it necessary to go to the council, they elect deputies
and remain at home. As a result of indolence and wealth,
they at length have soldiers to enslave their country and
representatives to sell it.

It is the bustle of commerce and of the arts, it is the
greedy pursuit of gain, it is effeminacy and love of com-
forts, that commute personal services for money. Men
sacrifice a portion of their profit in order to increase it
at their ease. Give money and soon you will have chains.
That word finance is a slave's word: it is unknown
among citizens. In a country that is really free, the
citizens do everything with their hands and nothing with
money: far from paying for exemption from their duties,
they would pay to perform them themselves. I am far
removed from ordinary ideas; I believe that statute labor
(Us corv/es) is less repugnant to liberty than taxation is.

The better constituted a State is, the more do public
affairs outweigh private ones in the minds of the citi-
zens. There is, indeed, a much smaller number of private
affairs, because the amount of the general prosperity fur-
nishes a more considerable portion to that of each indi'

84 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

vidual, and less remains to be sought by individual
exertions. In a well-conducted city-state everyone hastens
to the assemblies: while under a bad government no one
cares to move a step in order to attend them, because no
one takes an interest in the proceedings, since it is fore-
seen that the general will will not prevail; and so at last
private concerns become all-absorbing. Good laws pave
the way for better ones; bad laws lead to worse ones.
As soon as any one says of the affairs of the State, • Of
what importance are they to me ? * we must consider that
the State is lost.

The decline of patriotism, the active pursuit of private
interests, the vast size of States, conquests, and the
abuses of government, have suggested the plan of dep-
uties or representatives of the people in the assemblies
of the nation. It is this which in certain cotmtries they
dare to call the third estate. Thus the private interest
of two orders is put in the first and second rank, the
public interest only in the third.

Sovereignty cannot be represented for the same reason
that it cannot be alienated; it consists essentially in the
general will, and the will cannot be represented; it is the
same or it is different; there is no medium. The deputies
of the people, then, are not and cannot be its represent-
atives; they are only its commissioners and can conclude
nothing definitely. Every law which the people in per-
son have not ratified is invalid; it is not a law. The Eng-
lish nation thinks that it is free, but is greatly mistaken,
for it is so only during the election of members of Par-
liament; as soon as they are elected, it is enslaved and
counts for nothing. The use which it makes of the brief
moments of freedom renders the loss of liberty well-
deserved.

The idea of representatives is modem; it comes to us
from feudal government, that absurd and iniquitous gov-
ernment, under which mankind is degraded and the name
of man dishonored. In the republics, and even in the
monarchies, of antiquity, the people never had repre-
sentatives; they did not know the word. It is very
singular that in Rome, where the tribunes were so sacred,
it was not even imagined that they could usurp the func-

DEPUTIES OR REPRESENTATIVES 85

tions of the people, and in the midst of so great a mul-
titude, they never attempted to pass of their own accord
a single plebiscitum. We may judge, however, of the
embarrassment which the crowd sometimes caused from
what occurred in the time of the Gracchi, when a part
of the citizens gave their votes on the house-tops. But
where right and liberty are all in all, inconveniences are
nothing. In that wise nation everything was estimated
at a true value; it allowed the lictors to do what the
tribunes had not dared to do, and was not afraid that
the lictors would want to represent it.

To explain, however, in what manner the tribunes some-
times represented it, it is suflScient to understand how
the government represents the sovereign. The law being
nothing but the declaration of the general will, it is
clear that in their legislative capacity the people cannot
be represented; but they can and should be represented
in the executive power, which is only force applied to
law. This shows that very few nations would, upon care-
ful examination, be found to have laws. Be that as it
may, it is certain that the tribunes, having no share in
the executive power, could never represent the Roman
people by right of their office, but only by encroaching
on the rights of the Senate.

Among the Greeks, whatever the people had to do,
they did themselves; they were constantly assembled in
the public place. They lived in a mild climate and they
were not avaricious; slaves performed the manual labor;
the people's great business was liberty. Not having the
same advantages, how are you to preserve the same
rights ? Your more rigorous climates give you more wants ; ♦
for six months in a year the public place is untenable,
and your hoarse voices cannot be heard in the open air.
You care more for gain than for liberty, and you fear
slavery far less than you do misery.

What! is liberty maintained only with the help of
slavery? Perhaps; extremes meet. Everything which is
not according to nature has its inconveniences, and civil

* To adopt in cold countries the effeminacy and Inxnrioosness of Ori-
entals is to be willing to assume their chains, and to submit to them
•ven more necessarily than they da

86 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

society more than all the rest. There are circumstances
so unfortunate that people can preserve their freedom
only at the expense of that of others, and the citizen
cannot be completely free except when the slave is en-
slaved to the utmost. Such was the position of Sparta.
As for you, modem nations, you have no slaves, but you
are slaves; you pay for their feedom with your own. In
vain do you boast of this preference; I find in it more
of cowardice than of humanity.

I do not mean by all this that slaves are necessary
and that the right of slavery is lawful, since I have
proved the contrary; I only mention the reasons why
modem nations who believe themselves free have rep-
resentatives, and why ancient nations had none. Be that
as it may, as soon as a nation appoints representatives,
it is no longer free; it no longer exists.

After very careful consideration I do not see that
it is possible henceforward for the sovereign to pre-
serve among us the exercise of its rights tmless the
State is very small. But if it is very small, will
it not be subjugated? No; I shall show hereafter
how the external power of a great nation can be
combined with the convenient polity and good order
a small State.

CHAPTER XVI.

That the Institution of the Government is Not
A Contract.

The legislative power being once well established, the
question is to establish also the executive power; for this
latter, which operates only by particular acts, not being
of the essence of the other, is naturally separated from
it. If it were possible that the sovereign, considered as
such, should have the executive power, law and fact
would be so confounded that it could no longer be known
what is law and what is not; and the body politic, thus
perverted, would soon become a prey to the violence
against which it was instituted.

INSTITUTION OP THE GOVERNMENT 87

The citizens being all equal by the social contract, all
can prescribe what all ought to do, while no one has a
right to demand that another should do what he will not
do himself. Now, it is properly this right, indispensable
to make the body politic live and move, which the sov-
ereign gives to the Prince in establishing the govern-
ment

Several have i>retended that the instrument in this
establishment is a contract between the people and the
chiefs whom they set over themselves — a contract by
which it is stipulated between the two parties on what
conditions the one binds itself to rule, the other to obey.
It will be agreed, I am sure, that this is a strange method
of contracting. But let us see whether such a position
is tenable.

First, the supreme authority can no more be modified
than alienated; to limit it is to destroy it. It is absurd
and contradictory that the sovereign should acknowledge
a superior; to bind itself to obey a master is to regain
full liberty.

Further, it is evident that this contract of the people
with such or such persons is a particular act; whence it
follows that the contract cannot be a law nor an act of
sovereignty, and that consequently it is unlawful.

Moreover, we see that the contracting parties them-
selves would be under the law of nature alone, and
without any security for the performance of their recip-
rocal engagements, which is in every way repugnant to
the civil state. He who possesses the power being always
capable of executing it, we might as well give the name
contract to the act of a man who should say to another:
•I give you all my proi)erty, on condition that you re-
store me what you please.**

There is but one contract in the State — that of asso-
ciation ; and this of itself excludes any other. No public
contract can be conceived which would not be a viola-
tion of the first.

CHAPTER XVII.
The Institution of the Government.

UhTDER what general notion, then, must be inclnded
the act by which the government is instituted ? I shall
observe first that this act is complex, or composed of
two others, viz, the establishment of the law and the
execution of the law.

By the first, the sovereign determines that there shall
be a governing body established in such or such a form ;
and it is clear that this act is a law.

By the second, the people nominate the chiefs who will
be intrusted with the government when established.
Now, this nomination being a particular act, is not a
second law, but only a consequence of the first, and a
function of the government

The difficulty is to understand how there can be an act
of government before the government exists, and how
the people, who are only sovereign or subjects, can, in
certain circumstances, become the Prince or the magis-
trates.

Here, however, is disclosed one of those astonishing
properties of the body politic, by which it reconciles
operations apparently contradictory; for this is effected
by a sudden conversion of sovereignty into democracy in
such a manner that, without any perceptible change, and
merely by a new relation of all to all, the citizens, hav-
ing become magistrates, pass from general acts to par-
ticular acts, and from the law to the execution of it

This change of relation is not a subtlety of speculation
without example in practice; it occurs every day in the
Parliament of England, in which the Lower House on
certain occasions resolves itself into Grand Committee in
order to discuss business better, and thus becomes a
simple commission instead of the sovereign court that it
was the moment before. In this way it afterward re-
ports to itself, as the House of Commons, what it has
just decided in Grand Committee.
(88>

PREVENTION OP USURPATIONS 89

Such is the advantage peculiar to a democratic govern-
ment, that it can be established in fact by a simple act
of the general will; and after this, the provisional gov-
ernment remains in power, should that be the form
adopted, or establishes in the name of the sovereign the
government prescribed by the law; and thus everything
is according to rule. It is impossible to institute the
government in any other way that is legitimate without
renouncing the principles heretofore established.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Means of Preventing Usurpations of the Gov-
ernment.

From these explanations it follows, in confirmation of
chapter XVI., that the act which institutes the govern-
ment is not a contract, but a law; that the depositaries
of the executive power are not the masters of the people,
but its officers; that the people can appoint them and
dismiss them at pleasure ; that for them it is not a ques-
tion of contracting, but of obeying; and that in under-
taking the functions which the State imposes on them,
they simply fulfill their duty as citizens, without having
in any way a right to discuss the conditions.

When, therefore, it happens that the people institute
a hereditary government, whether monarchical in a fam-
ily or aristocratic in one order of citizens, it is not an
engagement that they make, but a provisional form which
they give to the administration, until they please to reg-
idate it differently.

It is true that such changes are always dangerous, and
that the established government must never be touched
except when it becomes incompatible with the public
good; but this circumspection is a maxim of policy, not
a rule of right; and the State is no more bound to leave
the civil authority to its chief men than the military
authority to its generals.

Moveover it is true that in such a case all the formali-
ties requisite to distinguish a regular and lawful act from

90 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

a seditjotis tumult, and the will of a whole people from
the clamors of a faction, cannot be too carefully ob-
served. It is especially in this case that only such con-
cession should be made as cannot in strict justice be
refused; and from this obligation also the Prince derives
a great advantage in preserving its power in spite of the
people, without there being able to say that it has
usurped the power; for while appearing to exercise noth-
ing but its rights, it may very easily extend them, and,
under pretext of maintaining the public peace, obstruct
the assemblies designed to re-establish good order; so that
it takes advantage of a silence which it prevents from
being broken, or of irregularities which it causes to be
committed, so as to assume in its favor the approbation
of those whom fear renders silent and ptmish those that
dare to speak. It is in this way that the Decemvirs, hav-
ing at first been elected for one year, and then kept in
office for another year, attempted to retain their power in
perpetuity by no longer permitting the comitia to assem-
ble; and it is by this easy method that all the governments
in the world, when once invested with the public force,
usurp sooner or later the sovereign authority.

The periodical assemblies of which I have spoken before
are fitted to prevent or postpone this evil, especially when
they need no formal convocation; for then the Prince
cannot interfere with them, without openly proclaim-
ing itself a violator of the laws and an enemy of the
State.

These assemblies, which have as their object the mainte-
nance of the social treaty, ought always to be opened
with two propositions, which no one should be able to
suppress, and which should pass separately by vote.

The first: * Whether it pleases the sovereign to main-
tain the present form of government.*

The second: ^Whether it pleases the people to leave the
administration to those at present intrusted with it.*

I presuppose here what I believe that I have proved,
viz, that there is in the State no fundamental law which
cannot be revoked, not even the social compact; for if all
the citizens assembled in order to break this compact by
a solemn agreement, no one can doubt that it would be

PREVENTION OP USURPATIONS 91

quite legitimately broken. Grotius even thinks that each
man can renounce the State of which he is a member, and
regain his natural freedom and his property by quitting
the country. ♦ Now it would be absurd if all the citizens
combined should be unable to do what each of them can
do separately.

* It must be clearly understood that no one should leave in order
to evade his duty and relieve himself from serving his country at a
moment when it needs him. Flight in that case would be criminal
and punishable; it would no longer be retirement, but desertion.

BOOK IV.

CHAPTER I.
That the General Will is Indestructible.*

So LONG as a number of men in combination are con-
sidered as a single body, they have but one will, which
relates to the common preservation and to the general
well-being. In such a case all the forces of the State
are vigorous and simple, and its principles are clear and
luminous; it has no confused and conflicting interests;
the common good is everywhere plainly manifest and
only good sense is required to perceive it. Peace, union,
and equality are foes to political subtleties. Upright and
simple-minded men are hard to deceive because of their sim-
plicity ; allurements and refined pretexts do not impose upon
them; they are not even cunning enough to be dupes.
When, in the happiest nation in the world, we see troops
of peasants regulating the affairs of the State under an
oak and always acting wisely, can we refrain from
despising the refinements of other nations, who make
themselves illustrious and wretched with so much art
and mystery?

A State thus governed needs very few laws; and in
so far as it becomes necessary to promulgate new ones,
this necessity is universally recognized. The first man
to propose them only gives expression to what all have
previously felt, and neither factions nor eloquence will
be needed to pass into law what every one has already
resolved to do, so soon as he is sure that the rest will
act as he does.

What deceives reasoners is that, seeing only States
that are ill-constituted from the beginning, they are
impressed with the impossibility of maintaining such a

*This chapter appears to belong more properly to Book IL^Sb^
(9a)

THAT GENERAL WILL IS INDESTRUCTIBLE 93

policy in those States; they laugh to think of all the fol-
lies to which a cunning knave, an insinuating speaker,
can persuade the people of Paris or London. They know
not that Cromwell would have been put in irons by the
people of Berne, and the Duke of Beaufort imprisoned
by the Genevese.

But when the social bond begins to be relaxed and the
State weakened, when private interests begin to make
themselves felt and small associations to exercise an
influence on the State, the common interest is injuri-
ously affected and finds adversaries; unanimity no longer
reigns in the voting; the general will is no longer the
will of all; opposition and disputes arise, and the best
counsel does not pass uncontested.

Lastly, when the State, on the verge of ruin, no longer
subsists except in a vain and illusory form, when the
social bond is broken in all hearts, when the basest in-
terest shelters itself impudently under the sacred name
of the public welfare, the general will becomes dumb;
all, under the guidance of secret motives, no more ex*
press their opinions as citizens than if the State had
never existed; and, under the name of laws, they deceit-
fully pass unjust decrees which have only private interest
as their end.

Does it follow from this that the general will is de-
stroyed or corrupted ? No; it is always constant, unalter-
able, and pure ; but it is subordinated to others which get
the better of it. Each, detaching his own interest from
the common interest, sees clearly that he cannot com-
pletely separate it; but his share in the injury done to the
State appears to him as nothing in comparison with the
exclusive advantage which he aims at appropriating to
himself. This particular advantage being excepted, he
desires the general welfare for his own interests quite
as strongly as any other. Even in selling his vote for
money, he does not extinguish in himself the general
will, but eludes it. The fault that he commits is to change
the state of the question, and to answer something
different from what he was asked ; so that, instead of say-
ing by a vote: «It is beneficial to the State,* he says: •It
is beneficial to a certain man or a certain party that such

\

94 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

or such a motion should pass.* Thus the law of public
order in assemblies is not so much to maintain in them
the general will as to insure that it shall always be con-
sulted and always respond.

I might in this place make many reflections on the
simple right of voting in every act of sovereignty — a right
which nothing can take away from the citizens — and on
that, of speaking, proposing, dividing, and discussing,
which the government is always very careful to leave to
Its members only; but this important matter would require
a separate treatise, and I cannot say everything in
this one.

CHAPTER II.

Voting.

We see from the previous chapter that the manner in
which public affairs are managed may give a sufficiently
trustworthy indication of the character and health of the
body politic. The more that harmony reigns in the as-
semblies, that is, the more the voting approaches tman-
imity, the more also is the general will predominant; but
long discussions, dissensions, and uproar proclaim the as-
cendency of private interests and the decline of tiie State.

This is not so clearly apparent when two or more or-
ders enter into its constitution, as, in Rome, the patri-
cians and plebeians, whose quarrels often disturbed the
comitiay even in the palmiest days of the Republic; but
this exception is more apparent than real, for, at that
time, by a vice inherent in the body politic, there were,
so to speak, two States in one; what is not true of the
two together is true of each separately. And, indeed,
even in the most stormy times, the pUbiscUa of the peo-
ple, when the Senate did not interfere with them, always
passed peaceably and by a large majority of votes; the
citizens having but one interest, the people had but
one will.

At the other extremity of the circle unanimity re-
turns; that is, when the citizens, fallen into slavery,
have no longer either liberty or wilL Then fear and

VOTING 95

flattery change votes into acclamations; men no longer
deliberate, but adore or curse. Such was the disgrace-
ful mode of speaking in the Senate under the Em-
perors. Sometimes it was done with ridiculous precautions.
Tacitus observes that under Otho the senators, in over-
whelming Vitellius with execrations, aflEected to make
at the same time a frightful noise, in order that, if
he happened to become master, he might not know
what each of them had said.

From these different considerations are deduced the
principles by which we should regulate the method of
counting votes and of comparing opinions, according
as the general will is more or less easy to ascertain
and the State more or less degenerate.

There is but one law which by its nature requires unan-
imous consent, that is, the social compact; for civil asso-
ciation is the most voluntary act in the world; every
man being bom free and master of himself, no one can,
under any pretext whatever, enslave him without his
assent. To decide that the son of a slave is bom a slave
is to decide that he is not bom a man.

If, then, at the time of the social compact, there are
opponents of it, their opposition does not invalidate the
contract, but only prevents them from being included in
it; they are foreigners among citizens. When the State
is established, consent lies in residence; to dwell in the
territory is to submit to the sovereignty.*

Excepting this original contract, the vote of the ma-
jority always binds all the rest, this being a result of
the contract itself. But it will be asked how a man can
be free and yet forced to conform to wills which are not
his own. How are opponents free and yet subject to
laws they have not consented to ?

I reply that the question is wrongly put. The citizen
consents to all the laws, even to those which are passed
in spite of him, and even to those which punish him
when he dares to violate any of them. The unvarying

* Thifi must always be understood to relate to a free State; for other-
wise family, property, want of an asylum, necessity, or violence, may
detain an ixihabxtant in a country against his will ; and then his residence
alone no longer supposes his consent to the contract or to the violation of it

96 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

will of all the members of the State is the general will;
it is through that that they are citizens and free. When
a law is proposed in the assembly of the people, what is
asked of them is not exactly whether they approve the
proposition or reject it, but whether it is conformable or
not to the general will, which is their own; each one in
giving his vote expresses his opinion thereupon; and
from the counting of the votes is obtained the declaration
of the general will. When, therefore, the opinion opposed
to my own prevails, that simply shows that I was mis-
taken, and that what I considered to be the general will
was not so. Had my private opinion prevailed, I should
have done something other than I wished; and in that
case I should not have been free.

This supposes, it is true, that all the marks of the gen-
eral will are still in the majority; when they cease to be
so, whatever side we take, there is no longer any liberty.

In showing before how particular wills were sub-
stituted for general wills in public resolutions, I have
sufficiently indicated the means practicable for preventing
this abuse; I will speak of it again hereafter. With re-
gard to the proportional number of votes for declaring
this will, I have also laid down the principles according
to which it may be determined. The difference of a
single vote destroys unanimity; but between unanimity
and equality there are many unequal divisions, at each
of which this number can be fixed according to the con-
dition and requirements of the body politic.

Two general principles may serve to regulate these pro-
portions: the one, that the more important and weighty
the resolutions, the nearer should the opinion which pre-
vails approach tmanimity; the other, that the greater
the despatch requisite in the matter under discussion, the
more should we restrict the prescribed difference in the
division of opinions; in resolutions which must be come
to immediately the majority of a single vote should suf-
fice. The first of these principles appears more suitable
to laws, the second to affairs. Be that as it may, it is
by their combination that are established the best pro-
portions which can be assigned for the decision of a
majority.

CHAPTER III.
Elections.

With regard to the elections of the Prince and the
magistrates, which are, as I have said, complex acts,
there are two modes of procedure, viz, choice and lot.
Both have been employed in diflferent republics, and a very
complicated mixture of the two is seen even now in the
election of the Doge of Venice.

* Election by lot,* says Montesquieu, •is of the nature
of democracy,* I agree, but how is it so? •The lot,*
he continues, •is a mode of election which mortifies no
one; it leaves every citizen a reasonable hope of serving
his country. * But these .are not the reasons.

If we are mindful that the election of the chiefs is a
function of government and not of sovereignty, we shall
see why the method of election by lot is more in the
nature of democracy, in which the administration is by so
much the better as its acts are less multiplied.

In every true democracy, the magistracy is not a boon
but an onerous charge, which cannot fairly be imposed
on one individual rather than on another. The law alone
can impose this burden on the person upon whom the
lot falls. For then, the conditions being equal for all,
and the choice not being dependent on any human will,
there is no particular application to alter the universality
of the law.

In an aristocracy the Prince chooses the Prince, the
government is maintained by itself, and voting is rightly
established.

The instance of the election of the Doge of Venice, far
from destroying this distinction, confirms it; this com-
posite form is suitable in a mixed government For it is
an error to take the government of Venice as a true
aristocracy. If the people have no share in the govern-
ment, the nobles themselves are numerous. A multitude
of i>oor Barnabotes never come near any magistracy and
have for their nobility only the empty title of Excel-
7 (97)

9« THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

lency and the right to attend the Great Council. This
Great Cotincil being as numerous as our General Council
at Geneva, its illustrious members have no more privi-
leges than our simple citizens {citoyens). It is certain
that, setting aside the extreme disparity of the two Re-
publics, the burgesses {la bourgeoisie) of Geneva exactly
correspond to the Venetian order of patricians; our
natives (natifs) and residents {habitants) represent the
citizens and people of Venice; our peasants {paysans)
represent the subjects of the mainland ; in short, in what-
ever way we consider this Republic apart from its size,
its government is no more aristocratic than ours. The
whole difference is that, having no chief for life, we have
not the same need for election by lot.

Elections by lot would have few drawbacks in a true
democracy, in which, all being equal, as well in charac-
ter and ability as in sentiments and fortune, the choice
would become almost indifferent. But I have already
said that there is no true democracy.

When choice and lot are combined, the first should be
employed to fill the posts that require peculiar talents,
such as military appointments; the other is suitable for
those in which good sense, justice and integrity are suf-
ficient, such as judicial offices, because, in a well-consti-
tuted State, these qualities are common to all the
citizens.

Neither lot nor voting has any place in a monarchical
government. The monarch being by right sole Prince
and sole magistrate, the choice of his lieutenants belongs
to him alone. When the Abbd de Saint-Pierre proposed
to multiply the councils of the King of France and to
elect the members of them by ballot, he did not see that
he was proposing to change the form of government.

It would remain for me to speak of the method for re«
cording and collecting votes in the assembly of the peo-
ple; but perhaps the history of the Roman policy in that
respect will explain more clearly all the principles which
I might be able to establish. It is not unworthy of a
judicious reader to see in some detail how public and
private affairs were dealt with in a council of aoo,ooo
men.

CHAPTER IV.
The Roman Comitia.

We have no very trustworthy records of the early times
of Rome; there is even great probability that most of
the things which have been handed down are fables, and
in general, the most instructive part of the annals of
nations, which is the history of their institution, is the
most defective. Experience every day teaches us from
what causes spring the revolutions of empires; but, as na-
tions are no longer in process of formation, we have
scarcely anything but conjectures to explain how they
have been formed.

The customs which are found established at least tes-
tify that these customs had a beginning. Of the tradi-
tions that go back to these origins, those which the
greatest authorities countenance, and which the strongest
reasons confirm, ought to pass as the most undoubted.
These are the principles which I have tried to follow in
inquiring how the freest and most powerful nation in
the world exercised its supreme power.

After the foundation of Rome, the growing republic,
that is, the army of the founder, composed of Albans, Sa-
bines, and foreigners, was divided into three classes, which,
from this division, took the name of tribes. Each of
these tribes was subdivided into ten curia^ and each curia
into decuricB^ at the head of which were placed curiones
and decuriones, /

Besides this, a body of one hundred horsemen or
knights, called a centuria^ was drawn from each tribe,
whence we see that these divisions, not very necessary
in a town, were at first only military. But it seems that
an instinct of greatness induced the little town of Rome
from the first to adopt a polity suitable to the capital of
the world.

From this first division an inconvenience soon resulted;
the tribe of the Albans and that of the Sabines remain-
ing always in the same condition, while that of the

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loo THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

foreigners increased continually through perpetual acces-
sions, the last soon outnumbered the two others. The
remedy which Servius found for this dangerous abuse
was to change the mode of division, and for the division
by races, which he abolished, to substitute another de-
rived from the districts of the city occupied by each tribe.
Instead of three tribes be made four, each of which
occupied one of the hills of Rome and bore its name.
Thus, in remedying the existing inequality, he also pre-
vented it for the future ; and in order that this might be
a division, not only of localities, but of men, he prohib-
ited the inhabitants of one quarter from removing into
another, which prevented the races from being mingled.

He also doubled the three old centuria of cavalry and
added twelve others to them, but still under the old
names — a simple and judicious means by which he
effected a distinction between the body of knights and
that of the people, without making the latter murmur.

To these four urban tribes Servius added fifteen others,
called rural tribes, because they were formed of inhabit-
ants of the country, divided into so many cantons. After-
ward as many new ones were formed; and the Roman
people were at length divided into thirty-five tribes, a
number which remained fixed until the close of the
Republic.

From this distinction between the urban and the rural
tribes resulted an effect worthy of notice, because there
is no other instance of it, and because Rome owed to it
both the preservation of her manners and the growth of
her empire. It might be supposed that the urban tribes
soon arrogated to themselves the power and the honors,
and were ready to disparage the rural tribes. It was
quite the reverse. We know the taste of the old Romans
for a country life. This taste they derived from their
wise founder, who united with liberty rural and military
works, and relegated, so to speak, to the towns arts,
trades, intrigue, wealth, and slavery.

Thus every eminent man that Rome had being a dweller
in the fields and a tiller of the soil, it was customary to
seek in the country only for the defenders of the Republic.
This condition, being that of the worthiest patricians,

THE ROMAN COMITIA loi

was honored by every one; the simple and laborious life
of villagers was preferred to the lax and indolent life of
the burgesses of Rome ; and many who would have been
only wretched proletarians in the city became as laborers
in the fields, respected citizens. It is not without reason,
said Varro, that our high-minded ancestors established in
the village the nursery of those hardy and valiant men
who defended them in time of war and sustained them
in time of peace. Pliny says i)ositively that the rural
tribes were honored because of the men that composed
them, while the worthless whom it was desired to dis-
grace were transferred as a mark of ignominy into the
urban tribes. The Sabine, Appius Claudius, having come
to settle in Rome, was there loaded with honors and
enrolled in a rural tribe, which afterward took the name
of his family. Lastly, all the freedmen entered the urban
tribes, never the rural; and during the whole of the
Republic there is not a single example of any of these
freedmen attaining a magistracy, although they had be-
come citizens.

This maxim was excellent, but was pushed so far that
at length a change, and certainly an abuse, in govern-
ment, resulted from it.

First, the censors, after having long arrogated the right
of transferring citizens arbitrarily from one tribe to
another, allowed the majority to be enrolled in whichever
they pleased — a permission which certainly was in no
way advantageous, and took away one of the great re-
sources of the censorship. Further, since the great and
powerful all enrolled themselves in the rural tribes, while
the freedmen who had become citizens remained with
the populace in the urban ones, the tribes in general had
no longer any district or territory, but all were so
intermingled that it was impossible to distinguish the
members of each except by the registers; so that the
idea of the word tribe passed thus from the real to
the personal, or rather became almost a chimera.

Moreover, it came about that the urban tribes, being
close at hand, were often the most powerful in the
comitia^ and sold the State to those who stooped to buy
the votes of the mob of which they were composed.

loa THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

With regard to the curue^ the founder having formed
ten in each tribe, the whole Roman people, at that time
inclosed in the walls of the city, consisted of thirty
curue^ each of which had its temples, its gods, its offi-
cers, its priests, and its festivals called compitalia^
resembling the paganalia which the rural tribes had after-
ward.

In the new division of Servius, the number thirty being
incapable of equal distribution into four tribes, he was
unwilling to touch them ; and the curue, being independ-
ent of the tribes, became another division of the inhabit-
ants of Rome. But there was no question of curia either
in the rural tribes or in the people composing them,
because the tribes having become a purely civil institu-
tion, and another mode of levying troops having been
introduced, the military divisions of Romulus were found
superfluous. Thus, although every citizen was enrolled
in a tribe, it was far from being the case that each was
enrolled in a curia.

Servius made yet a third division, which had no
relation to the two preceding, but became by its effects
the most important of all. He distributed the whole
Roman people into six classes, which he distinguished,
not by the place of residence, nor by the men, but by
property; so that the first classes were filled with rich
men, the last with poor men, and the intermediate ones
with those who enjoyed a moderate fortune. These six
classes were subdivided into one hundred and ninety-
three other bodies called centuria^ and these bodies were
so distributed that the first class alone comprised more
than a half, and the last formed only one. It thus hap-
pened that the class least numerous in men had most
centuries^ and that the last entire class was counted as
only one subdivision, although it alone contained more
than a half of the inhabitants of Rome.

In order that the people might not so clearly discern
the consequences of this last form, Servius affected to
give it a military aspect. He introduced in the second
class two centurus of armorers, and two of makers of
instruments of war in the fourth; in each class, except
the last, he distinguished the young and the old, that is

THE ROMAN COMITIA 103

to say, those who were obliged to bear arms, and those
who were exempted by law on account of age — a dis-
tinction which, more than that of property, gave rise to
the necessity of frequently repeating the census or enu-
meration ; finally he required that the assembly should be
held in the Campus Martins^ and that all who were
qualified for service by age should gather there with
their arms.

The reason why he did not follow in the last class this
same division into seniors and juniors is, that the honor
of bearing arms for their country was not granted to
the populace of which it was composed; it was necessary
to have homes in order to obtain the right of defending
them; and out of those innumerable troops of beggars
with which the armies of kings nowadays glitter, there
is perhaps not one but would have been driven with
scorn from a Roman cohort when soldiers were defend-
ers of liberty.

Yet again, there was in the last class a distinction
between the proletarii and those who were called capite
censi. The former not altogether destitute, at least sup-
plied citizens to the State, sometimes even soldiers in
pressing need. As for those who had nothing at all and
could only be counted by heads, they were regarded as
altogether unimportant, and Mariiis was the first who
condescended to enroll them.

Without deciding here whether this third enumeration
was good or bad in itself, I think I may afiSrm that
nothing but the simple manners of the early Romans —
their disinterestedness, their taste for agriculture, their
contempt for commerce and for the ardent pursuit of
gain — could have rendered it practicable. In what mod-
em nation would rapacious greed, restlessness of spirit,
intrigue, continual changes of residence, and the perpetual
revolutions of fortune have allowed such an institution
to endure for twenty years without the whole State being
subverted? It is, indeed, necessary to observe carefully
that morality and the censorship, more powerful than
this institution, corrected its imperfections in Rome, and
that many a rich man was relegated to the class of the
poor for making too much display of his wealth.

lo* THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

From all this we may easily understand why mention
is scarcely ever made of more than five classes, although
there were really six. The sixth, which furnished neither
soldiers to the army, nor voters to the Campus Martiu^
and which was almost useless in the Republic, rarely
counted as anything.

Such were the di£Eerent divisions of the Roman people.
Let us see now what e£Eect they produced in the as-
semblies. These assemblies, lawfully convened, were
called comitia; they were usually held in the Forum of
Rome or in the Campus Martius^ and were distinguished
as comitia curiata^ comitia centuriata^ and comitia tributa^
in accordance with that one of the three forms by
which they were regulated. The comitia curiata were
founded by Romulus, the comitia centuriata by Servius,
and the comitia tributa by the tribunes of the people.
No law received sanction, no magistrate was elected, ex-
cept in the comitia \ and as there was no citizen who was
not enrolled in a curia^ in a centuria^ or in a tribe, it
follows that no citizen was excluded from the right of
voting, and that the Roman people were truly sovereign
de jure and de facto.

In order that the comitia might be lawfully assembled,
and that what was done in them might have the force of
law, three conditions were necessary; the first, that the
body or magistrate which convoked them should be in-
vested with the necessary authority for that purpose ; the
second, that the assembly should be held on one of the
days i)ermitted by law; the third, that the auguries
shotald be favorable.

The reason for the first regulation need not be ex-
plained; the second is a matter of police; thus it was not
permitted to hold the comitia on feast days and market
days, when the country people, coming to Rome on
business, had no leisure to pass the day in the place of
assembly. By the third, the Senate kept in check a
proud and turbulent people, and seasonably tempered the

*I say, «to the Campus Martius, * because it was there that the
tonutia centuriata assembled; in the two other forms the people
assembled in the Forum or elsewhere; and then the capite censi )i9A
as much influence and authority as the chief citizens.

THE ROMAN COMITIA 105

ardor of seditious tribunes; but the latter found more
than one means of freeing themselves from this con-
straint.

Laws and the election of chiefs were not the only
points submitted for the decision of the comitia; the
Roman people having usurped the most important func-
tions of government, the fate of Europe may be said to
have been determined in their assemblies. This variety
of subjects gave scope for the different forms which
these assemblies took according to the matters which had
to be decided.

To judge of these different forms, it is suflScient to
compare them. Romulus, in instituting the curice^ desired
to restrain the Senate by means of the people, and the
people by means of the Senate, while ruling equally over
all. He therefore gave the people by this form all the
authority of numbers in order to balance that of power
and wealth, which he left to the patricians. But, accord-
ing to the spirit of a monarchy, he left still more advan-
tage to the patricians through the influence of their clients
in securing a plurality of votes. This admirable institu*
tion of patrons and clients was a masterpiece of policy
and humanity, without which the patrician order, so op*
posed to the spirit of a republic, could not have sub-
sisted. Rome alone has had the honor of giving to the
world such a fine institution, from which there never re-
sulted any abuse, and which, notwithstanding, has never
been followed.

Since the form of the assembly of the curia subsisted
xmder the kings down to Servius, and since the reign of
the last Tarquin is not considered legitimate, the royal
laws were on this account generally distinguished by the
name of leges curiatce.

Under the Republic the assembly of the curia^ always
limited to the four urban tribes, and containing only the
Roman populace, did not correspond either with the Sen-
ate, which was at the head of the patricians, or with the
tribunes, who, although plebeians, were at the head of
the middle-class citizens. It therefore fell into disrepute;
and its degradation was such that its thirty assembled
lictors did what the comitia curiata ought to have done.

io6 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

The camitia centuriata was so favorable to the aristoc-
racy that we do not at first see why the Senate did not
always prevail in the comitia which bore that name,
and by which the consuls, censors, and other curule
magistrates were elected. Indeed, of the one hundred
and ninety-three centuries which formed the six classes
of the whole Roman people, the first class comprising
ninety-eight, and the votes being counted only by centuruB^
this first class alone outnumbered in votes all the others.
When all these centurue were in agreement, the record-
ing of votes was even discontinued; what the minority
had decided passed for a decision of the multitude; and
we may say that in the comitia centuriata affairs were
regulated rather by the majority of crowns {^cus) than
of votes.

But this excessive power was moderated in two ways:
first, the tribunes usually, and a great number of plebeians
always, being in the class of the rich, balanced the in-
fluence of the patricians in this first class. The second
means consisted in this, that instead of making the
centuricB vote according to their order, which would
have caused the first class to begin always, one of them*
was drawn by lot and proceeded alone to the election;
after which all the centurice^ being summoned on another
day according to their rank, renewed the election and
usually confirmed it. Thus the power of example was
taken away from rank to be given to lot, according to
the principle of democracy.

Prom this practice resulted yet another advantage; the
citizens from the country had time, between the two
elections, to gain information about the merits of the
candidate provisionally chosen, and so record their votes
with knowledge of the case. But, under pretense of
dispatch, this practice came to be abolished and the two
elections took place on the same day.

The comitia tributa were properly the council of the
Roman i)eople. They were convoked only by the tribunes;
in them the tribunes were elected and passed their

• This centurta, thus chosen by lot, was called prtBrogativa^ be-
cause its suffrage was demanded first; hence came the word /r^r^^a
true.

THE ROMAN COMITIA 107

plebiscita. Not only had the Senate no status in them —
it had not even a right to attend; and, being compelled
to obey laws on which they could not vote, the senators
were, in this respect, less free than the meanest citizens.
This injustice was altogether impolitic, and alone sufficed
to invalidate the decrees of a body to which all the
citizens were not admitted. If all the patricians had
taken part in these comitia according to the rights which
they had as citizens, having become in that case simple
individuals, they would have scarcely influenced a form in
which votes were counted by the head, and in which
the meanest proletarian had as much power as the Chief
of the Senate.

We see, then, that besides the order which resulted
from these different divisions for the collection of the
votes of so great a people, these divisions were not
reduced to forms immaterial in themselves, but that each
had results corresponding with the purposes for which it
was chosen.

Without entering upon this in greater detail, it follows
from the preceding explanations that the comitia tributa
were more favorable to popular government, and the
comitia centuriata to aristocracy. With regard to the com-
itia curiata^ in which the Roman populace alone formed
the majority, as they served only to favor tyranny and
evil designs, they deserved to fall into discredit, the se-
ditious themselves refraining from a means which would
too plainly reveal their projects. It is certain that the
full majesty of the Roman people was found only in the
comitia centuriata^ which were alone complete, seeing
that the rural tribes were absent from the comitia curiata
and the Senate and the patricians from the comitia tributa.

The mode of collecting the votes among the early Ro-
mans was as simple as their manners, although still less
simple than in Sparta. Each gave his vote with a loud
voice, and a recording officer duly registered it; a ma-
jority of votes in each tribe determined the suffrage of
the tribe; a majority of votes among the tribes deter-
mined the suffrage of the people; and so with the cur ice
centuruB, This was a good practice so long as probity
prevailed among the citizens and every one was ashamed

io8 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

to record his vote publicly for an tinjnst measure or an
unworthy man; but when the people were corrupted and
votes were bought, it was expedient that they should be
given secretly in order to restrain purchasers by distrust
and give knaves an opportunity of not being traitors.

I know that Cicero blames this change and attributes
to it in part the fall of the Republic. But although I
feel the weight which Cicero's authority ought to have
in this matter, I cannot adopt his opinion; on the con-
trary, I think that through not making sufficient changes
of this kind, the downfall of the State was hastened.
As the regimen of healthy persons is unfit for invalids,
so we should not desire to govern a corrupt i)eople by
the laws which suit a good nation. Nothing supports
this maxim better than the duration of the republic of
Venice, only the semblance of which now exists, solely
because its laws are suitable to none but worthless men.

Tablets, therefore, were distributed to the citizens by
means of which each could vote without his decision
being known; new formalities were also established for
the collection of tablets, the counting of votes, the com-
parison of numbers, etc. ; but this did not prevent
suspicions as to the fidelity of the officers charged with
these duties. At length edicts were framed, the multitude
of which proves their uselessness.

Toward the closing years, they were often compelled
to resort to extraordinary expedients in order to supply
the defects of the laws. Sometimes prodigies were
feigned; but this method, which might impose on the
people, did not impose on those who governed them.
Sometimes an assembly was hastily summoned before
the candidates had had time to canvass. Sometimes a
whole sitting was consumed in talking when it was seen
that the people having been won over were ready to
pass a bad resolution. But at last ambition evaded
everything; and it seems incredible that in the midst of
so many abuses, this great nation, by favor of its ancient
institutions, did not cease to elect magistrates, to pass
laws, to judge causes, and to dispatch public and private
afiEairs with almost as much facility as the Senate itself
could have done.

CHAPTER V.
The Tribuneship.

When an exact relation cannot be established among
the constituent parts of the State, or when indestructible
causes are incessantly changing their relations, a special
magistracy is instituted, which is not incorporated with
the others, but which replaces each term in its true re-
lation, forming a connection or middle term either
between the Prince and the people, or between the
Prince and the sovereign, or if necessary between both
at once.

This body, which I shall call the tribuneship, is the
guardian of the laws and of the legislative power. It
sometimes serves to protect the sovereign against the
government, as the tribunes of the people did in Rome;
sometimes to support the government against the people,
as the Council of Ten now does in Venice; and some-
times to maintain an equilibrium among all parts, as the
ephors did in Sparta.

The tribuneship is not a constituent part of the State,
and should have no share in the legislative or in the
executive power; but it is in this very circumstance
that its own power is greatest; for, while unable to do
anything, it can prevent everything. It is more sacred
and more venerated, as defender of the laws, than the
Prince that executes them and the sovereign that enacts
them. This was very clearly seen in Rome, when those
proud patricians, who always despised the people as a
whole, were forced to bow before a simple officer of
the people, who had neither auspices nor jurisdiction.

The tribuneship, wisely moderated, is the strongest sup-
port of a good constitution; but if its power be ever so
little in excess, it overthrows everything. Weakness is
not natural to it; and provided it has some power, it is
never less than it should be.

It degenerates into tyranny when it usurps the execu-
tive power, of which it is only the moderator, and when

ao9)

no THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

it wishes to make the laws which it should only defend
The enormons power of the ephors, which was without
danger so long as Sparta preserved her morality, accel-
erated the corruption when it had begun. The blood of
Agis, slain by these tyrants, was avenged by his succes-
sor; but the crime and the punishment of the ephors
alike hastened the fall of the republic, and, after Cleom-
enes, Sparta was no longer of any account. Rome,
again, perished in the same way; and the excessive power
of the tribunes, usurped by degrees, served at last, with
the aid of laws framed on behalf of liberty, as a shield
for the emperors who destroyed her. As for the Council
of Ten in Venice, it is a tribunal of blood, horrible both
to the patricians and to the people; and, far from reso-
lutely defending the laws, it has only served since their
degradation for striking secret blows which men dare not
remark.

The tribuneship, like the government, is weakened by
the multiplication of its members. When the tribunes of
the Roman people, at first two in number and afterward
five, wished to double this number, the Senate allowed
them to do so, being quite sure of controlling some by
means of others, which did not fail to happen.

The best means of preventing the usurpations of such
a formidable body, a means of which no government has
hitherto availed itself, would be, not to make this body
permanent, but to fix intervals during which it should
remain suspended. These intervals, which should not be
long enough to allow abuses time to become estab-
lished, can be fixed by law in such a manner that it may
be easy to shorten them in case of need by means of ex-
traordinary commissions.

This method appears to me free from objection, be-
cause, as I have said, the tribuneship, forming no part
of the constitution, can be removed without detriment;
and it seems to me efficacious, because a magistrate
newly established does not start with the power that his
predecessor had, but with that which the law gives him.

CHAPTER VI.
The Dictatorship.

The inflexibility of the laws, which prevents them from
being adapted to emergencies, may in certain cases ren-
der them pernicious, and thereby cause the ruin of the
State in a time of crisis. The order and tardiness of
the forms require a space of time which circumstances
sometimes do not allow. A thousand cases may arise for
which the legislator has not provided, and to perceive
that everything cannot be foreseen is a very needful kind
of foresight.

We must therefore not desire to establish political in-
stitutions so firmly as to take away the power of suspend-
ing their effects. Even Sparta allowed her laws to sleep.

But only the greatest dangers can outweigh that of
changing the public order, and the sacred power of the
laws should never be interfered with except when the
safety of the country is at stake. In these rare and
obvious cases, the public security is provided for by a
special act, which intrusts the care of it to the most
worthy man. This commission can be conferred in two
ways, according to the nature of the danger.

If an increase in the activity of the government sufl&ces
to remedy this evil, we may concentrate it in one or two
of its members; in that case it is not the authority of the
laws which is changed but only the form of their admin-
istration. But if the danger is such that the formal proc-
ess of law is an obstacle to our sectirity, a supreme head
is nominated, who may silence all the laws and suspend
for a moment the sovereign authority. In such a case
the general will is not doubtful, and it is clear that the
primary intention of the people is that the State should
not perish. In this way the suspension of the legislative
power does not involve its abolition; the magistrate who
silences it can make it speak; he dominates it without
having power to represent it; he can do everything but
make laws.

The first method was employed by the Roman Senate

(III)

112 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

when it charged the consuls, by a consecrated formula,
to provide for the safety of the Republic. The second
was adopted when one of the two consuls nominated a
dictator,* a usage of which Alba had furnished the prec-
edent to Rome.

At the beginning of the Republic they very often had
recourse to the* dictatorship, because the State had not
yet a sufficiently firm foundation to be able to maintain
itself by the vigor of its constitution alone.

Public morality rendering superfluous at that time
many precautions that would have been necessary at
another time, there was no fear either that a dictator
would abuse his authority or that he would attempt to
retain it beyond the term. On the contrary, it seemed
that so great a power must be a burden to him who was
invested with it, such haste did he make to divest him-
self of it, as if to take the place of the laws were an
office too arduous and too dangerous.

Therefore it is the danger, not its abuse, but of its
degradation, that makes me blame the indiscreet use of
this supreme magistracy in early times; for while it was
freely used at elections, at dedications, and in purely
formal matters, there was reason to fear that it would
become less formidable in case of need, and that the
people would grow accustomed to regard as an empty
title that which was only employed in empty ceremonies.

Toward the close of the Republic, the Romans, hav-
ing become more circumspect, used the dictatorship spar-
ingly with as little reason as they had formerly been
prodigal of it. It was easy to see that their fear was
ill-founded; that the weakness of the capital then con-
stituted its security against the magistrates whom it had
within it; that a dictator could, in certain cases, defend
the public liberty without ever being able to assail it; and
that the chains of Rome would not be forged in Rome
itself, but in her armies. The slight resistance which
Marius made against Sylla, and Pompey against Caesar,
showed clearly what might be looked for from the authority
within against the force without.

*This nomination was made by night and in secret as if they were
Mhamed to set a man above the laws.

THE DICTATORSHIP 113

This error caused them to commit great mistakes; such,
for example, was that of not appointing a dictator in the
Catiline aflEair; for as it was only a question of the in-
terior of the city, or at most of some province of Italy,
a dictator, with the unlimited authority that the laws
gave him, would have easily broken up the conspiracy,
which was suppressed only by a combination of happy
accidents such as human prudence could not have fore-
seen.

Instead of that the Senate was content to intrust all
its power to the consuls ; whence it happened that Cicero,
in order to act effectively, was constrained to exceed his
authority in a material point, and that although the first
transports of joy caused his conduct to be approved, he was
afterward justly called to account for the blood of citizens
shed contrary to the laws a reproach which could not
have been brought against a dictator. But the consul's
eloquence won over everybody; and he himself, although
a Roman, preferred his own glory to his country's good,
and sought not so much the most certain and legitimate
means of saving the State as the way to secure the whole
credit of this affair.* Therefore he was justly honored as
the liberator of Rome and justly punished as a violator of
the laws. However brilliant his recall may have been,
it was certainly a pardon.

Moreover, in whatever way this important commission
may be conferred, it is important to fix its duration at a
very short term which can never be prolonged. In the
crises which cause it to be established, the State is soon
destroyed or saved; and, the urgent need having passed
away, the dictatorship becomes tyrannical or useless. In
Rome the dictators held office for six months only, and
the majority abdicated before the end of this term. Had
the term been longer, they would perhaps have been
tempted to prolong it still further, as the Decemvirs did
their term of one year. The dictator only had time to
provide for the necessity which had led to his election;
he had no time to think of other projects.

* He conld not be satisfied about this in proposing a dictator ; he dared
not nominate himself, and oonld not feel sure that his colleagae wonld
nominate him.
8

CHAPTER VII.
The Censorship.

Just as the declaration of the general will is made by
the law, the declaration of public opinion is made
by the censorship. Public opinion is a kind of law of
which the censor is minister, and which he only applies
to particular cases in the manner of the Prince.

The censorial tribunal, then, far from being the arbiter
of the opinion of the people, only declares it, and so
soon as it departs from this position, its decisions are
fruitless and ineffectual.

It is useless to distinguish the character of a nation
from the objects of its esteem, for all these things de-
pend on the same principle and are necessarily inter-
mixed. In all the nations of the world it is not nature
but opinion which decides the choice of their pleasures.
Reform men's opinions and their manners will be purified
of themselves. People always like what is becoming or
what they judge to be so; but it is in this judgment that
they make mistakes ; the question, then, is to guide their
judgment. He who judges of manners judges of honor;
and he who judges of honor takes his law from opinion.

The opinions of a nation spring from its constitution.
Although the law does not regulate morality, it is legis-
lation that gives it birth, and when legislation becomes
impaired, morality degenerates; but then the judgment
of the censors will not do what the power of the laws
has failed to do.

It follows from this that the censorship may be useful
to preserve morality, never to restore it. Institute cen-
sors while the laws are vigorous; so soon as they have
lost their power all is over. Nothing that is lawful has
any force when the laws cease to have any.

The censorship supports morality by preventing opinions
from being corrupted, by preserving their integrity
through wise applications, sometimes even by fixing
them when they are still uncertain. The use of seconds

CIVIL RELIGION 115

in duels, carried to a mad extreme in the kingdom of
Prance, was abolished by these simple words in an edict
of the king: *As for those who have the cowardice to
appoint seconds.* This judgment, anticipating that of
the public, immediately decided it. But when the same
edicts wanted to declare that it was also cowardice to
fight a duel, which is very true, but contrary to common
opinion, the public ridiculed this decision, on which its
judgment was already formed.

I have said elsewhere* that as public opinion is not
aubject to constraint, there should be no vestige of this
in the tribunal established to represent it. We cannot
admire too much the art with which this force, wholly
lost among the modems, was set in operation among
the Romans and still better among the Lacedaemonians.

A man of bad character having brought forward a good
measure in the Council of Sparta, the ephors, without
regarding him, caused the same measure to be proposed
by a virtuous citizen. What an honor for the one, what
a stigma for the other, without praise or blame being
given to either! Certain drunkards from Samos defiled
the tribunal of the ephors; on the morrow a public edict
granted permission to the Samians to be filthy. A real
punishment would have been less severe than such im-
punity. When Sparta pronounced what was or was not
honorable, Greece made no appeal from her decisions.

CHAPTER VIII.
Civil Religion.

Men had at first no kings except the gods and no gov-
ernment but a theocracy. They reasoned like Caligula,
and at that time they reasoned rightly. A long period
is needed to change men's sentiments and ideas in order
that they may resolve to take a fellow-man as a master
and flatter themselves that all will be well.

*I merely indicate in this chapter what I have treated at greater
length in the LetUr to M. d'Alembirt.

Ii6 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

From the single circumstance that a god was placed at
the head of every political society, it followed that there
were as many gods as nations. Two nations foreign to
each other, and almost always hostile, could not long
acknowledge the same master; two armies engaged in
battle with each other could not obey the same leader.
Thus from national divisions resulted polytheism, and,
from this, theological and civil intolerance, which are by
nature the same, as will be shown hereafter.

The fancy of the Greeks that they recognized their own
gods among barbarous nations arose from their re-
garding themselves as the natural sovereigns of those
nations. But in our days that is a very ridiculous kind
of erudition which turns on the identity of the gods of
different nations, as if Moloch, Saturn, and Chronos could
be the same god! As if the Baal of the Phoenicians, the
2^us of the Greeks, and the Jupiter of the Latins could
be the same! As if there could be anything in
common among imaginary beings bearing different
names!

But if it is asked why under paganism, when every
State had its worship and its gods, there were no wars
of religion, I answer that it was for the same reason that
each State, having its peculiar form of worship as well
as its own government, did not distinguish its gods from
its laws. Political warfare was also religious; the depart-
ments of the gods were, so to speak, fixed by the limits
of the nations. The god of one nation had no right over
other nations. The gods of the pagans were not jealous
gods; they shared among them the empire of the world;
even Moses and the Hebrew nation sometimes cotmte-
nanced this idea by speaking of the god of Israel. It is
true that they regarded as naught the gods of the Canaan-
ites, proscribed nations, devoted to destruction, whose
country they were to occupy; but see how they spoke of
the divinities of the neighboring nations whom they were
forbidden to attack: ^The possession of what belongs
to Chamos your god, * said Jephthah to the Ammonites,
* is it not lawfully your due ? By the same title we pos.
sess the lands which our conquering god has acquired. *
In this, it seems to me, there was a well-recognized par-

CIVIL RELIGION ii;

ity between the rights of Chamos and those of the god
of Israel.

But when the Jews, subjected to the kings of Babylon,
and afterward to the kings of Syria, obstinately refused
to acknowledge any other god than their own, this re-
fusal being regarded as a rebellion against the conqueror,
drew upon them the persecutions which we read of in
their history, and of which no other instance appears
before Christianity.

Every religion, then, being exclusively attached to the
laws of the State which prescribed it, there was no other
way of converting a nation than to subdue it, and no
other missionaries than conquerors; and the obligation to
change their form of worship being the law imposed on
the vanquished, it was necessary to begin by conquering
before speaking of conversions. Far from men fighting
for the gods, it was, as in Homer, the gods who fought
for men; each sued for victory from his own god and
paid for it with new altars. The Romans, before attack-
ing a place, summoned its gods to abandon it; and when
they left to the Tarentines their exasperated gods, it was
because they then regarded these gods as subjected to
their own and forced to pay them homage. They left
the vanquished their gods as they left them their laws.
A crown for the Capitoline Jupiter was often the only
tribute that they imix)sed.

At last, the Romans having extended their worship
and their laws with their empire, and having themselves
often adopted those of the vanquished, the nations of this
vast empire, since the right of citizenship was granted
to all, found insensibly that they had multitudes of gods
and religions, almost the same ever3rwhere; and this is
why paganism was at length known in the world as only
a single religion.

It was in these circumstances that Jesus came to estab-
lish on earth a spiritual kingdom, which, separating the
religious from the political system, destroyed the unity
of the State, and caused the intestine divisions whiclx
have never ceased to agitate Christian nations. Now this
new idea of a kingdom in the other world having never
been able to enter the minds of the pagans, they always

ii8 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

regarded Christians as actual rebels, who, tinder cover of
a hypocritical submission, only sought an opportunity to
make themselves independent and supreme, and to usurp
by ctmning the authority which, in tlieir weakness, they
pretend to respect. This was the cause of persecutions.

What the pagans had feared came to pass. Then every-
thing changed its aspect; the humble Christians altered
their tone, and soon this pretended kingdom of the other
world became, under a visible chief, the most violent
despotism in this world.

As, however, there have always been a Prince and civil
laws, a perpetual conflict of jurisdiction has resulted from
this double power, which has rendered any good polity
impossible in Christian States; and no one has ever suc-
ceeded in understanding whether he was bound to obey
the ruler or the priest.

Many nations, however, even in Europe or on its out-
skirts, wished to preserve or to re-establish the ancient
system, but without success; the spirit of Christianity
prevailed over everj^hing. The sacred worship always
retained or regained its independence of the sovereign,
and without any necessary connection with the body of
the State. Mohammed had very sotmd views; he thor-
oughly unified his political system; and so long as his
form of government subsisted under his successors, the
caliphs, the government was quite undivided and in that
respect good. But the Arabs having become flourishing,
learned, polished, effeminate, and indolent, were subju-
gated by the barbarians, and then the division between
the two powers began again. Although it may be less
apparent among the Mohammedans than among the
Christians, the division nevertheless exists, especially in
the sect of Ali; and there are States, such as Persia, in
which it is still seen.

Among us, the kings of England have established them-
selves as heads of the church, and the Tsars have done
the same; but by means of this title they have made
themselves its ministers rather than its rulers; they have
acquired not so much the right of changing it as the
power of maintaining it; they are not its legislators but
only its princes. Wherever the clergy form a corpora-

CIVIL RELIGION 119

tion,* they are masters and legislators in their own
country. There are, then, two powers, two sovereigns,
in England and in Russia, just as elsewhere.

Of all Christian authors, the philosopher Hobbes is the
only one who has clearly seen the evil and its remedy,
and who has dared to propose a reunion of the heads of
the eagle and the complete restoration of political unity,
without which no State or government will ever be well
constituted. But he ought to have seen that the domi-
neering spirit of Christianity was incompatible with his
system, and that the interest of the priest would always
be stronger than that of the State. It is not so much
what is horrible and false in his political theory as what
is just and true that has rendered it odious.

I believe that by developing historical facts from this
point of view, the opposite opinions of Bayle and War-
burton xnight easily be refuted. Th^ former of these
maintains that no religion is useful to the body politic; the
latter, on the other hand, asserts that Christianity is its
strongest support. To the first it might be proved that no
State was ever founded without religion serving as its
basis, and to the second, that the Christian law is more
injurious than useful to a firm constitution of the State.
In order to succeed in making myself understood, I need
only give a little more precision to the exceedingly vague
ideas about religion in its relation to my subject.

Religpion, conisidered with reference to society, which
is either general or particular, may also be divided into
two kinds, viz, the religion of the man and that of the
citizen. The first, without temples, without altars, with-
out rites, limited to the purely internal worship of the
supreme God and to the eternal duties of morality, is the
pure and simple religion of the Gospel, the true theism,

* It must, indeed, be remarked that it is not so much the formal as-
semblies, like those in France, that bind the clergy into one body, as
the communion of churches. Communion and excommunication are the
social pact of the clergy, a pact by means of which they will always be
the masters of nations and kings. All priests who are of the same
communion are fellow citizens, though they are as far asunder as the
poles. This invention is a master-piece of policy. There was nothing
similar among pagan priests; therefore they never formed a body of
ctaqsy.

I20 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

and what may be called the natural divine law. The
other, inscribed in a single country, gives to it its gods,
its peculiar and tutelary patrons. It has its dogmas, its
rites, its external worship prescribed by the laws; out-
side the single nation which observes it, everjrthing is
for it infidel, foreign, and barbarous; it extends the duties
and rights of men only as far as its altars. Such were
all the religions of early nations, to which may be given
the name of the divine law, civil or positive.

There is a third and more extravagant kind of religion,
which, giving to men two sets of laws, two chiefs, two
countries, imposes on them contradictory duties, and pre-
vents them from being at once devout men and citizens.
Such is the religion of the Lamas, such is that of the
Japanese, such is Roman Christianity. This may be
called the religion of the priest. There results from
it a kind of mixed and unsocial law which has no name.

Considered politically, these three kinds of religion all
have their defects. The third is so evidently bad that
it would be a waste of time to stop and prove this.
Whatever destroys social unity is good for nothing; all
institutions which put a man in contradiction with him-
self are worthless.

The second is good so far as it combines divine wor-
ship with love for the laws, and, by making their coun-
try the object of the citizens' adoration, teaches them
that to serve the State is to serve the guardian deity.
It is a kind of theocracy, in which there ought to be no
pontiff but the Prince, no other priests than the magis-
trates. Then to die for one's country is to suflEer martyr-
dom, to violate the laws is to be impious, and to subject
a guilty man to public execration is to devote him to the
wrath of the gods: Sacer esto.

But it is evil in so far as being based on error and
falsehood, it deceives men, renders them credulous and
superstitious, and obscures the true worship of the Deity
with vain ceremonial. It is evil, again, when, becoming
exclusive and tyrannical, it makes a nation sanguinary and
intolerant, so that it thirsts after nothing but murder
and massacre, and believes that it is performing a holy
action in killing whosoever does not acknowledge its

CIVIL RELIGION 121

gods. This puts such a nation in a natural state of war
with all others, which is very prejudicial to its own safety.

There remains, then, the religion of man or Christian-
ity, not that of to-day, but that of the Grospel, which is
quite diflEerent. By this holy, sublime, and pure religion,
men, children of the same God, all recognize one another
as brethren, and the social bond which unites them is
not dissolved even at death.

But this religion, having no particular relation with the
body politic, leaves to the laws only the force that they
derive from themselves, without adding to them any
other; and thereby one of the great bonds of the partic-
ular society remains ineflEective. What is more, far from
attaching the hearts of citizens to the State, it detaches
them from it and from all earthly things. I know of
nothing more contrary to the social spirit.

We are told that a nation of true Christians would
form the most perfect society conceivable. In this
supix)sition I see only one great diflBculty — that a so-
ciety of true Christians would be no longer a society of
men.

I say even that this supposed society, with all its per-
fection, would be neither the strongest nor the most
durable; by virtue of its perfection it would lack cohe-
sion; its perfection, indeed, would be its destroying
vice.

Each man would perform his duty; the people would
be obedient to the laws, the chief men would be just
and moderate, and the magistrates upright and incor-
ruptible; the soldiers would despise death; there would
be neither vanity nor luxury. All this is very good; but
let us look further.

Christianity is an entirely spiritual religion, concerned
solely with heavenly things; the Christian's country is
not of this world. He does his duty, it is true; but he
does it with a profound indifference as to the good or ill
success of his endeavors. Provided that he has nothing
to reproach himself with, it matters little to him whether
all goes well or ill here below. If the State is flourish-
ing, he scarcely dares to enjoy the public felicity; he
fears to take a pride in the glory of his country. If the

122 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

State declines, he blesses the hand of God which lies
heavy on his people.

In order that the society might be peaceable and har-
mony maintained, it would be necessary for all citizens
without exception to be equally good Christians; but if
unfortunately there happens to be in it a single ambitious
man, a single hypocrite, a Catiline or a Cromwell for
example, such a man will certainly obtain an advantage
over his pious compatriots. Christian charity does not
suflEer men readily to think ill of their neighbors. As
soon as a man has found by cunning the art of imposing
on them and securing to himself a share in the public
authority, he is invested with dignity; God wills that he
should be reverenced. Soon he exercises dominion; God
wills that he should be obeyed. The depositary of this
power abuses it; this is the rod with which God pun-
ishes his children. They would have scruples about
driving out the usurper; it would be necessary to disturb
the public peace, to employ violence, to shed blood; all
this ill accords with the meekness of the Christian, and,
after all, does it matter whether they are free or en-
slaved in this vale of woes? The essential thing is to
reach paradise, and resignation is but one means the
more toward that.

Some foreign war comes on ; the citizens march to battle
without anxiety; none of them think of flight. They do
their duty, but without an ardent desire for victory; they
know better how to die than to conquer. What matters
it whether they are the victors or the vanquished ? Does
not Providence know better than they what is needful
for them ? Conceive what an advantage a bold, impetu-
ous, enthusiastic enemy can derive from this stoical in-
diflference! Set against them those noble peoples who
are consumed with a burning love of glory and of coun-
try. Suppose your Christian republic opposed to Sparta
or Rome; the pious Christians will be beaten, crushed,
destroyed, before they have time to collect themselves,
or they will owe their safety only to the contempt which
the enemy may conceive for them. To my mind that
was a noble oath of the soldiers of Fabius; they did not
swear to die or to conquer, they swore to return as con-

CIVIL RELIGION 123

querors, and kept their oath. Never would Christians
have done such a thing; they would have believed that
they were tempting God.

But I am mistaken in speaking of a Christian repub-
lie; each of these two words excludes the other. Chris-
tianity preaches only servitude and dependence. Its spirit
is too favorable to tyranny for the latter not to profit by
it always. True Christians are made to be slaves; they
know it and are hardly aroused by it. This short life
has too little value in their eyes.

Christian troops are excellent, we are told. I deny it;
let them show me any that are such. For my part, I know
of no Christian troops. The crusades will be cited. With-
out disputing the valor of the crusaders, I shall observe
that, far from being Christians, they were soldiers of the
priest, citizens of the Church; they fought for their
spiritual country, which the Church had somehow ren-
dered temporal. Properly regarded, this brings us back
to paganism ; as the Grospel does not establish a national
religion, any sacred war is impossible among Christians.

Under the pagan emperors Christian soldiers were
brave; al) Christian authors affirm it, and I believe it.
There was a rivalry of honor against the pagan troops.
As soon as the emperors became Christians, this rivalry
no longer subsisted; and when the cross had driven out
the eagle, all the Roman valor disappeared.

But, setting aside political considerations, let us return
to the subject of right and determine principles on this
important point. The right which the social pact gives
to the sovereign over its subjects does not, as I have
said, pass the limits of public utility.* Subjects, then,
owe no account of their opinions to the sovereign except
so far as those opinions are of moment to the community.
Now it is very important for the State that every citizen

• <<In the oommonwealth,^ says the Marquis d'Argenson, ^^each
is perfectly free in what does not injare others.^ That is the un-
alterable limit; it cannot be more accurately placed. I could not
deny myself the pleasure of sometimes quoting this manuscript,
although it is not known to the public, in order to do honor to the
memory of an illustrious and honorable man, who preserved even in
office the heart of a true citizen, and just and sound opinions about the
government of his country.

124 THE SOCIAL CONTRACT

should have a religion which may make him delight in
his duties ; but the dogmas of this religion concern neither
the State nor its members, except so far as they aflfect
morality and the duties which he who professes it is
bound to perform toward others. Each may have, in ad-
dition, such opinions as he pleases, without its being the
business of the sovereign to know them; for, as he has
no jurisdiction in the other world, the destiny of his
subjects in the life to come, whatever it may be, is
not his affair, provided they are good citizens in this
life.

There is, however, a purely civil profession of faith,
the articles of which it is the duty of the sovereign to
determine, not exactly as dogmas of religion, but as
sentiments of sociability, without which it is impossible
to be a good citizen or a faithful subject. Without
having power to compel any one to believe them, the
sovereign may banish from the State whoever does not
believe them; it may banish him not as impious, but as
unsociable, as incapable of sincerely loving law and
justice and of sacrificing at need his life to his duty.
But if any one, after publicly acknowledging these
dogmas, behaves like an unbeliever in them, he should
be punished with death; he has committed the greatest
of crimes, he has lied before the laws.

The dogmas of civil religion ought to be simple, few
in number, stated with precision, and without explana-
tions or commentaries. The existence of the Deity,
powerful, wise, beneficent, prescient, and bountiful, the
life to come, the happiness of the just, the punishment
of the wicked, the sanctity of the social contract and of the
laws; these are the positive dogmas. As for the negative
dogmas, I limit them to one only, that is, intolerance; it
belongs to the creeds which we have excluded.

Those who distinguish civil intolerance from theological
intolerance are in my opinion, mistaken. These two
kinds of intolerance are inseparable. It is impossible to
live at peace with people whom we believe to be damned;
to love them would be to hate God who punishes them.
It is absolutely necessary to reclaim them or to punish
them. Wherever theological intolerance is allowed, it

CIVIL RELIGION 125

cannot but have some effect in civil life;* and as soon as
it has any, the sovereign is no longer sovereign even in
secular affairs; from that time the priests are the real
masters; the kings are only their officers.

Now that there is, and can be, no longer any exclusive
national religion, we should tolerate all those which tol-
erate others, so far as their dogmas have nothing contrary
to the duties of a citizen. But whosoever dares to say:
* Outside the Church no salvation,* ought to be driven
from the State, unless the State be the Church and the
Prince be the pontiff. Such a dogma is proper only in a
theocratic government; in any other it is pernicious. The
reason for which Henry IV. is said to have embraced
the Romish religpion ought to have made any honorable
man renounce it, and especially any prince who knew
how to reason.

* Marriage, for example, being a civil contnust, has civil conse-
quences, without which it is even impossible for society to subsist
Let us, then, suppose that a clergy should succeed in arrogating to
itself the sole right to perform this act, a right which it must neces-
sarily usurp in every intolerant religion; then, is it not clear that in
taking the opportunity to strengthen the Church's authority, it will
render ineffectual that of the Prince, which will no longer have any
subjects except those which the clergy are pleased to give it? Hav-
ing the option of manying or not marrying people, according as they
hold or do not hold such or such a doctrine, according as they admit
or reject such or such a formulary, according as they are more or less
devoted to it, is it not clear that by behaving prudently and keeping
firm, the Church alone will dispose of inheritances, offices, citizens,
and the State itself, which cannot subsist when only composed of
bastards? But, it will be said, men will appeal as against abuses;
they will summon, issue decrees, and seize on the temporalities.
What a pity ! The clergy, however little they may have, I do not say
of courage, but of good sense, will let this be done and go their way;
they will quietly permit appealing, adjourning, decreeing, seizing, and
will end by remaining masters. It is not, it seems to me, a great
sacrifice to abandon a part, when one is sure of getting possession of
the whole.

CHAPTER IX.
Conclusion.

After laying down the principles of political right and
attempting to establish the State on its foundations, it
would remain to strengthen it in its external relations;
which would comprise the law of nations, commerce, the
right of war and conquests, public rights, alliances, nego-
tiations, treaties, etc. But all this forms a new subject
too vast for my limited scope. I ought always to have
confined myself to a narrower sphere.
(ia6)

SIR THOMAS MORE'S
UTOPIA.

I' 0..''

UTOPIA.

BOOK I.

Henry VIII., the unconquered King of England, a
prince adorned with all the virtues that become a great
monarch, having some diflEerences of no small consequence
with Charles, the most serene prince of Castile, sent me
into Flanders, as his ambassador, for treating and com-
posing matters between them. I was colleague and com-
panion to that incomparable man Cuthbert Tonstal, whom
the king with such universal applause lately made Mas-
ter of the Rolls; but of whom I will say nothing; not
because I fear that the testimony of a friend will be sus-
pected, but rather because his learning and virtues are
too great for me to do them justice, and so well known,
that they need not my commendations unless I would,
according to the proverb, * Show the sun with a lanthom.*
Those that were appointed by the prince to treat with us
met us at Bruges, according to agreement; they were all
worthy men. The Margrave of Bruges was their head,
and the chief man among them; but he that was es-
teemed the wisest, and that spoke for the rest, was
George Temse, the Provost of Casselsee; both art and
nature had concurred to make him eloquent; he was
very learned in the law; and as he had a great capacity,
so by a long practice in affairs he was very dextrous at
unraveling them. After we had several times met with-
out coming to an agreement, they went to Brussels for
some days to know the prince's pleasure. And since our
business would admit it, I went to Antwerp. While I
was there, among many that visited me, there was one
that was more acceptable to me than any other, Peter
Giles, bom at Antwerp, who is a man of great honor,
and of « good rank in his town, though less than he de-
serves; tor I do not know if there be anywhere to be
9 (lag)

I30 UTOPIA

found a more learned and a better bred young man: for
as he is both a very worthy and a very knowing person,
so he is so civil to all men, so particularly kind to his
friends, and so full of candor and affection, that there is
not perhaps above one or two anywhere to be found that
is in all respects so perfect a friend. He is extraordi.
narily modest, there is no artifice in him; .and yet no
man has more of a prudent simplicity; his conversation
was so pleasant and so innocently cheerful, that his com-
pany in a great measure lessened any longings to go
back to my country, and to my wife and children, which
an absence of four months had quickened very much.
One day as I was returning home from Mass at St.
Mary's, which is the chief church, and the most fre-
quented of any in Antwerp, I saw him by accident talk-
ing with a stranger, who seemed past the flower of his
age; his face was tanned, he had a long beard, and his
cloak was hanging carelessly about him, so that by
his looks and habit I concluded he was a seaman. As
soon as Peter saw me, he came and saluted me; and as
I was returning his civility, he took me aside, and point-
ing to him with whom he had been discoursing, he said,
•Do you see that man? I was just thinking to bring
him to you.* I answered, •He should have been very
welcome on your account* •And on his own too,* re-
plied he, •if you knew the man, for there is none alive
that can give so copious an account of unknown nations
and countries as he can do; which I know you very much
desire. • Then said I, • I did not guess amiss, for at first
sight I took him for a seaman. • • But you are much
mistaken,* said he, •for he has not sailed as a seaman,
but as a traveler, or rather a philosopher. This Raphael,
who from his family carries the name of Hythloday, is
not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but is eminently
learned in the Greek, having applied himself more par-
ticularly to that than to the former, because he had given
himself much to philosophy, in which he knew that the
Romans have left us nothing that is valuable, except what
is to be fotmd in Seneca and Cicero. He is a Portuguese
by birth, and was so desirous of seeing the world, that he
divided his estate among his brothers, run the same hazard

UTOPIA 131

as Americus Vespucius, and bore a share in three of his
four voyages, that are now published; only he did not
return with him in his last, but obtained leave of him
almost by force, that he might be one of those twenty-
four who were left at the farthest place at which they
touched, in their last voyage to New Castile. The leav*
ing him thus did not a little gratify one that was more
fond of traveling than of returning home, to be buried
in his own country; for he used often to say, that the
way to heaven was the same from all places; and he
that had no grave, had the heaven still over him. Yet
this disposition of mind had cost him dear, if God
had not been very gracious to him; for after he, with
five Castilians, had traveled over many cotmtries, at
last, by strange good fortune, he got to Ceylon, and from
thence to Calicut, where he very happily found some
Portuguese ships; and, beyond all men's expectations,
returned to his native country.* When Peter had said
this to me, I thanked him for his kindness, in intending
to give me the acquaintance of a man whose conver-
sation he knew would be so acceptable; and upon that
Raphael and I embraced each other. After those civili-
ties were past which are usual with strangers upon their
first meeting, we all went to my house, and entering
into the garden, sat down on a green bank, and enter-
tained one another in discourse. He told us, that when
\espucius had sailed away, he and his companions that
stayed behind in New Castile, by degrees insinuated
themselves into the affections of the people of the
country, meeting often with them, and treating them
gently; and at last they not only lived among them with-
out danger, but conversed familiarly with them; and got
80 far into the heart of a prince, whose name and
country I have forgot, that he both furnished them plen-
tifully with all things necessary, and also with the conven-
iences of traveling; both boats when they went by water,
and wagons when they traveled over land: he sent with
them a very faithful guide, who was to introduce and
recommend them to such other princes as they had a
mind to see; and after many days' journey, they came
to towns, and cities, and to commonwealths, that were

N

131 UTOPIA

both happily governed and well peopled. Under the equa-
tor, and as far on both sides of it as the sun moves,
there lay vast deserts that were parched with the per-
petual heat of the sun; the soil was withered, all things
looked dismally, and all places were either quite unin-
habited, or abounded with wild beasts and serpents, and
some few men, that were neither less wild nor less cruel
than the beasts themselves. But as they went farther
ft new scene opened, all things grew milder, the air
less burning, the soil more verdant, and even the beasts
were less wild; and at last there were nations, towns, and
cities, that had not only mutual commerce among them-
selves, and with their neighbors, but traded both by
sea and land, to very remote cotmtries. There they
fotmd the conveniences of seeing many countries on all
hands, for no ship went any voyage into which he and
his companions were not very welcome. The first vessels
that they saw were flat-bottomed, their sails were made
of reeds and wicker woven close together, only some
were of leather; but afterward they found ships made
with round keels, and canvas sails, and in all respects like
our ships; and the seamen understood both astronomy
and navigation. He got wonderfully into their favor
by showing them the use of the needle, of which till
then they were utterly ignorant They sailed before with
great caution, and only in summer time, but now they
count all seasons alike, trusting wholly to the loadstone
in which they are perhaps more secure than safe; so that
there is reason to fear that this discovery, which was
thought would prove so much to their advantage, may
by their imprudence become an occasion of much mis-
chief to them. But it were too long to dwell on all that
he told us he had observed in every place; it would be
too great a digression from our present purpose; what-
ever is necessary to be told, concerning those wise and
prudent institutions which he observed among civiliased
nations, may perhaps be related by us on a more proper
occasion. We asked him many questions concerning all
these things, to which he answered very willingly; only
we made no inquiries after monsters, than which nothing
is more common; for everywhere one may hear of rav-

UTOPIA 133

enous dogs and wolves, and cruel man-eaters; but it is
not so easy to find states that are well and wisely gov-
erned.

As he told us of many things that were amiss in those
new-discovered countries^ so he reckoned up not a few
things from which patterns might be taken for correct-
ing the errors of these nations among whom we live; of
which an account may be given, as I have already
promised^ at some other time; for at present I intend
only to relate those particulars that he told us of the
manners and laws of the Utopians; but I will begin
with the occasion that led us to speak of that common-
wealth. After Raphael had discoursed with great judg-
ment on the many errors that were both among us and
these nations; had treated of the wise institutions both
here and there, and had spoken as distinctly of the cus-
toms and government of every nation through which he
had passed, as if he had spent his whole life in it; Peter
being struck with admiration, said, ^I wonder, Raphael,
how it comes that you enter into no king's service, for I
am sure there are none to whom you would not be very
acceptable: for your learning and knowledge, both of
men and things, is such, that you would not only enter-
tain them very pleasantly, but be of great use to them,
by the examples you could set before them, and the
advices you could give them; and by this means you
would both serve your own interest, and be of great use
to all your friends.* •As for my friends,* answered he,
• I need not be much concerned, having already done for
them all that was incumbent on me; for when I was not
only in good health, but fresh and young, I distributed
that among my kindred and friends which other people
do not part with till they are old and sick; when they
then unwillingly give that which they can enjoy no longer
themselves. I think my friends ought to rest contented
with this, and not to expect that for their sakes I should
enslave myself to any king whatsoever.* * Soft and fair,*
said Peter, * I do not mean that you should be a slave to
any king, but only that you should assist them, and be
useful to them.* *The change of the word,* said he, •does
not alter the matter.* • But term it as you will,* replied

134 UTOPIA

Peter, • I do not see any other way in which you can be
8o useful, both in private to your friends, and to the
public, and by which you can make your own condition
happier.* * Happier!* answered Raphael, •is that to be
compassed in a way so abhorrent to my genius ? Now
I live as I will, to which I believe few courtiers
can pretend. And there are so many that court the
favor of great men, that there will be no great loss
if they are not troubled either with me or with others
of my temper.* Upon this, said I, *I perceive, Raphael,
that you neither desire wealth nor greatness; and indeed
I value and admire such a man much more than I
do any of the great men in the world. Yet I think
you would do what would well become so generous
and philosophical a soul as yours is, if you would apply
your time and thoughts to public affairs, even though
you may happen to find it a little uneasy to yourself:
and this you can never do with so much advantage, as
by being taken into the counsel of some great prince,
and putting him on noble and worthy actions, which I
know you would do if you were in such a post; for the
springs both of good and evil flow from the prince, over
a whole nation, as from a lasting fountain. So much
learning as you have, even without practice in affairs,
or so great a practice as you have had, without any
other learning, would render you a very fit counselor to
any king whatsoever.* *^ You are doubly mistaken,* said
he, • Mr. More, both in your opinion of me, and in the
judgment you make of things: for as I have not that
capacity that you fancy I have ; so, if I had it, the public
would not be one jot the better, when I had sacrificed
my quiet to it. For most princes apply themselves
more to affairs of war than to the useful arts of peace;
and in these I neither have any knowledge, nor do I
much desire it: they are generally more set on acquiring
new kingdoms, right or wrong, than on governing well
those they possess. And among the ministers of princes,
there are none that are not so wise as to need no assist-
ance, or at least that do not think themselves so wise,
that they imagine they need none ; and if they court any,
it is only those for whom the prince has much personal

UTOPIA 135

favor, whom by their fawnings and flatteries they en-
deavor to fix to their own interests; and indeed Nature has
so made us, that we all love to be flattered, and to please
ourselves with our own notions. The old crow loves his
yotmg, and the ape her cubs. Now if in such a court,
made up of persons who envy all others, and only admire
themselves, a person should but propose anything that he
had either read in history, or observed in his travels, the
rest would think that the reputation of their wisdom
would sink, and that their interest would be much de-
pressed, if they could not run it down: and if all other
things failed, then they would fly to this, that such or
such things pleased our ancestors, and it were well for
us if we could but match them. They would set up their
rest on such an answer, as a sufficient confutation of all
that could be said; as if it were a great misfortune, that
any should be found wiser than his ancestors; but though
they willingly let go all the good things that were among
those of former ages, yet if better things are proposed
they cover themselves obstinately with this excuse of
reverence to past times. I have met with these proud,
morose, and absurd judgments of things in many places,
particularly once in England.* *Was you ever there?*
said I. •Yes, I was,* answered he, *and stayed some
months there, not long after the rebellion in the west
was suppressed with a great slaughter of the poor people
that were engaged in it.

•I was then much obliged to that reverend prelate,
John Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury, Cardinal, and
Chancellor of England ; a man, * said he, * Peter (for Mr.
More knows well what he was), that was not less ven-
erable for his wisdom and virtues, than for the high
character he bore. He was of a middle stature, not broken
with age; his looks begot reverence rather than fear; his
conversation was easy, but serious and grave; he some-
times took pleasure to try the force of those that came
as suitors to him upon business, by speaking sharply,
though decently to them, and by that he discovered their
spirit and presence of mind, with which he was much
delighted, when it did not grow up to impudence, as
bearing a great resemblance to his own temper; and he

136 UTOPIA

looked on such persons as the fittest men for affairs. He
spoke both gracefully and weightily; he was eminently
skilled in the law, had a vast understanding, and a pro-
digious memory; and those excellent talents with which
Nature had furnished him, were improved by study and
experience. When I was in England the king depended
much on his counsels, and the government seemed to be
chiefly supported by him ; for from his youth he had been
all along practiced in affairs; and having passed through
many traverses of fortune, he had with great cost ac-
quired a vast stock of wisdom, which is not soon lost
when it is purchased so dear. One day when I was din-
ing with him there happened to be at table one of
the English lawyers, who took occasion to run out in a
high commendation of the severe execution of justice
upon thieves, who, as he said, were then hanged so fast,
that there were sometimes twenty on one gibbet; and
upon that he said he could not wonder enough how it
came to pass, that since so few escaped, there were yet
so many thieves left who were still robbing in all places.
Upon this, I who took the boldness to speak freely be-
fore the Cardinal, said, there was no reason to wonder
at the matter, since this way of punishing thieves was
neither just in itself nor good for the public; for as the
severity was too great, so the remedy was not effectual;
simple theft not being so great a crime that it ought to
cost a man his life, no punishment how severe soever
being able to restrain those from robbing who can find
out no other way of livelihood. ^ In this,* said I, *not
only you in England, but a great part of the world imitate
some ill masters that are readier to chastise their scholars
than to teach them. There are dreadful punishments
enacted against thieves, but it were much better to make
such good provisions by which every man might be put
in a method how to live, and so be preserved from the
fatal necessity of stealing and of d)ring for it* ^ There
has been care enough taken for that,* said he, Hhere are
many handicrafts, and there is husbandry, by which they
may make a shift to live unless they have a greater mind
to follow ill courses.* ^That will not serve your turn,*
said I, ^for many lose their limbs in civil or foreign

UTOPIA 137

wars, as lately in the Cornish rebellion, and some time
ago in your wars with Prance, who being thus mutilated
in the service of their king and country, can no more
follow their old trades, and are too old to learn new ones;
but since wars are only accidental things, and have
intervals, let us consider those things that fall out every
day. There is a great number of noblemen among you,
that are themselves as idle as drones, that subsist on other
men's labor, on the labor of their tenants, whom, to
raise their revenues, they pare to the quick. This indeed
is the only instance of their frugality, for in all other
things they are prodigal, even to the beggaring of
themselves; but besides this, they carry about with
them a great number of idle fellows, who never learned
any art by which they may gain their living; and
these, as soon as either their lord dies, or they them-
selves fall sick, are turned out of doors; for your lords
are readier to feed idle people, than to take care of
the sick; and often the heir is not able to keep to-
gether so great a family as his predecessor did. Now
when the stomachs of those that are thus turned
out of doors, grow keen, they rob no less keenly;
and what else can they do? for when, by wandering
about, they have worn out both their health and their
clothes, and are tattered, and look ghastly, men of qual-
ity will not entertain them, and poor men dare not do it;
knowing that one who has been bred up in idleness and
pleasure, an4 who was used to walk about with his sword
and buckler, despising all the neighborhood with an inso-
lent scorn, as far below him, is not fit for the spade and
mattock: nor will he serve a poor man for so small a
hire, and in so low a diet as he can afford to give him.^
To this he answered, ^This sort of men ought to be
particularly cherished, for in them consists the force of
the armies for which we have occasion; since their birth
inspires them with a nobler sense of honor, than is to
be found among tradesmen or plowmen.^ ^You may
as well say,' replied I, Hhat you must cherish thieves
on the account of wars, for you will never want the one,
as long as you have the other; and as robbers prove
sometimes gallant soldiers, so soldiers often prove brave

138 UTOPIA

robbers; so near an alliance there is between those
two sorts of life. But this bad custom, so common
among you, of keeping many servants, is not peculiar
to this nation. In France there is yet a more pestifer-
ous sort of people, for the whole country is full of sol-
diers, still kept up in time of peace; if such a state of a
nation can be called a peace; and these are kept in pay
upon the same accotmt that you plead for those idle
retainers about noblemen; this being a maxim of those
pretended statesmen that it is necessary for the public
safety, to have a good body of veteran soldiers ever
in readiness. They think raw men are not to be de-
pended on, and they sometimes seek occasions for mak-
ing war, that they may train up their soldiers in the art
of cutting throats; or as Sallust observed, for keeping
their hands in use, that they may not grow dull by too
long an intermission. But Prance has learned to its cost,
how dangerous it is to feed such beasts. The fate of the
Romans, Carthaginians, and Syrians, and many other
nations and cities, which were both overturned and quite
ruined by those standing armies, should make others
wiser: and the folly of this maxim of the French,
appears plainly even from this, that their trained soldiers
often find your raw men prove too hard for them; of
which I will not say much, lest you may think I flatter
the English. Every day's experience shows, that the
mechanics in the towns, or the clowns in the cotmtry, are
not afraid of fighting with those idle gentlemen, if they
are not disabled by some misfortune in their body, or dis-
pirited by extreme want, so that you need not fear that
those well-shaped and strong men ( for it is only such that
noblemen love to keep about them, till they spoil them)
who now grow feeble with ease, and are softened with
their effeminate manner of life, would be less fit for
action if they were well bred and well employed. And
it seems very imreasonable, that for the prospect of a war,
which you need never have but when you please, you
should maintain so many idle men, as will always disturb
you in time of peace, which is ever to be more considered
than war. But I do not think that this necessity of steal-
ing arises only from hence; there is another cause of it

UTOPIA 139

more peculiar to England.^ * What is that ?* said the Car-
dinal. *The increase of pasture,* said I, *by which your
sheep, which are naturally mild, and easily kept in order,
may be said now to devour men, and unpeople, not only
villages, but towns; for wherever it is found that the sheep
of any soil yield a softer and richer wool than ordinary,
there the nobility and gentry, and even those holy men,
the abbots, not contented with the old rents which their
farms yielded, nor thinking it enough that they, living at
their ease, do no good to the public, resolve to do it hurt
instead of good. They stop the course of agriculture,
destroying houses and towns, reserving only the churches,
and inclose grounds that they may lodge their sheep in
them. As if forests and parks had swallowed up too
little of the land, those worthy countrymen turn the
best inhabited places in solitudes; for when an insatiable
wretch, who is a plague to his country, resolves to in-
close many thousand acres of ground, the owners, as well
as tenants, are turned out of their possessions, by tricks,
or by main force, or being wearied out with ill usage,
they are forced to sell them. By which means those
miserable people, both men and women, married and
unmarried, old and young, with their poor but numerous
families (since country business requires many hands),
are all forced to change their seats, not knowing whither
to go; and they must sell almost for nothing their house-
hold stuflf, which could not bring them much money,
even though they might stay for a buyer. When that
little money is at an end, for it will be soon spent, what
is left for them to do, but either to steal and so to be
hanged (God knows how justly), or to go about and beg ?
And if they do this, they are put in prison as idle vaga-
bonds; while they would willingly work, but can find
none that will hire them; for there is no more occasion
for coimtry labor, to which they have been bred, when
there is no arable ground left. One shepherd can look
after a flock, which will stock an extent of ground that
would require many hands, if it were to be plowed and
reaped. This likewise in many places raises the price
of com. The price of wool is also so risen, that the poor
people who were wont to make cloth are no more able

I40 UTOPIA

to buy it; and this likewise makes many of them idle.
For since the increase of pasture, God has punished the
avarice of the owners, by a rot among the sheep, which
has destroyed vast numbers of them ; to us it might have
seemed more just had it fell on the owners themselves.
But suppose the sheep should increase ever so much,
their price is not like to fall; since though they cannot
be called a monopoly, because they are not engrossed by
one person, yet they are in so few hands, and these are
so rich, that as they are not pressed to sell them sooner
than they have a mind to, so they never do it till they
have raised the price as high as possible. And on the
same account it is that the other kinds of cattle are so
dear, because many villages being pulled down, and all
country labor being much neglected, there are none who
make it their business to breed them. The rich do not
breed cattle as they do sheep, but buy them lean, and
at low prices ; and after they have fattened them on their
grounds, sell them again at high rates. And I do not
think that all the inconveniences this will produce are
yet observed; for as they sell the cattle dear, so if they
are consumed faster than the breeding countries from
which they are brought can aflEord them, then the stock
must decrease, and this must needs end in great scarcity;
and by these means this your island, which seemed as to
this particular the happiest in the world, will suffer much
by the cursed avarice of a few persons; besides this, the
rising of com makes all people lessen their families as
much as they can ; and what can those who are dismissed
by them do, but either beg or rob? And to this last, a
man of a great mind is much sooner drawn than to the
former. Luxury likewise breaks in apace upon you, to set
forward your poverty and misery; there is an excessive
vanity in apparel, and great cost in diet; and that not
only in noblemen's families, but even among tradesmen,
among the farmers themselves, and among all ranks of
persons. You have also many infamous houses, and be-
sides those that are known, the taverns and alehouses
are no better; add to these, dice, cards, tables, foot-ball,
tennis, and quoits, in which money runs fast away; and
those that are initiated into them, must in the conclusion

UTOPIA 141

betake themselves to robbing for a supply. Banish these
plagues, and give orders that those who have dispeopled
so much soil, may either rebuild the villages they have
pulled down, or let out their grounds to such as will do
it; restrain those engrossings of the rich, that are as bad
almost as monopolies; leave fewer occasions to idleness;
let agriculture be set up again, and the manufacture of
the wool be regulated, that so there may be work found
for those companies of idle people whom want forces to
be thieves, or who now being idle vagabonds, or useless
servants, will certainly grow thieves at last. If you do
not find a remedy to these evils, it is a vain thing to
boast of your severity in punishing theft, which though
it may have the appearance of justice, yet in itself is
neither just nor convenient. For if you suflEer your peo-
ple to be ill educated, and their manners to be corrupted
from their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes
to which their first education disposed them, what else
is to be concluded from this, but that you first make
thieves and then ptmish them?^

•While I was talking thus, the counselor who was
present had prepared an answer, and had resolved to
resume all I had said, according to the formality of a
debate, in which things are generally repeated more
faithfully than they are answered; as if the chief trial
to be made were of men's memories. *You have talked
prettily for a stranger,* said he, ^having heard of many
things among us which you have not been able to con-
sider well; but I will make the whole matter plain to
you, and will first repeat in order all that you have
said, then I will show how much your ignorance of our
affairs has misled you, and will in the last place answer
all your arguments. And that I may begin where I

promised, there were four things ^ * Hold your peace,*

said the Cardinal, ^this will take up too much time;
therefore we will at present ease you of the trouble of
answering, and reserve it to our next meeting, which
shall be to-morrow, if Raphael's affairs and yours can
admit of it. But, Raphael,* said he to me, ^I would
gladly know upon what reason it is that you think theft
ought not to be punished by death? Would you give

I4S UTOPIA

way to it? Or do you propose any other punishment
that will be more useful to the public ? For since death
does not restrain theft, if men thought their lives would
be safe, what fear or force could restrain ill men? On
the contrary, they would look on the mitigation of the
punishment as an invitation to commit more crimes.* I
answered, ^It seems to me a very unjust thing to take
away a man's life for a little money; for nothing in the
world can be of equal value with a man's life; and if it
is said, that it is not for the money that one suffers, but
for his breaking the law, I must say, extreme justice is
an extreme injury; for we ought not to approve of these
terrible laws that make the smallest offenses capital, nor
of that opinion of the Stoics, that makes all crimes
equal, as if there were no difference to be made between
the killing a man and the taking his purse, between
which, if we examine things impartially, there is no
likeness nor proportion. Grod has commanded us not to
kill, and shall we kill so easily for a little money? But
if one shall say, that by the law we are only forbid to
kill any, except when the laws of the land allow of it;
upon the same grounds, laws may be made in some
cases to allow of adultery and perjury: for God having
taken from us the right of disposing, either of oui own
or of other people's lives, if it is pretended that the
mutual consent of man in making laws can authorize
man-slaughter in cases in which Grod has given us no
example, that it frees people from the obligation of the
divine law, and so makes murder a lawful action; what
is this, but to give a preference to human laws before
the divine? And if this is once admitted, by the same
rule men may in all other things put what restrictions
they please upon the laws of Grod. If by the Mosaical
law, though it was rough and severe, as being a yoke
laid on an obstinate and servile nation, men were only
fined, and not put to death for theft, we cannot imagine
that in this new law of mercy, in which God treats us
with the tenderness of a father, he has given us a
greater license to cruelty than he did to the Jews. Upon
these reasons it is, that I think putting thieves to death
is not lawful; and it is plaii^ and obvious that it is absurd.

UTOPIA 143

and of ill consequence to the commonwealth, that a
thief and a murderer should be equally punished; for
if a robber sees that his danger is the same, if he is
convicted of theft as if he were guilty of murder, this
will naturally incite him to kill the person whom other-
wise he would only have robbed, since if the punishment
is the same, there is more security, and less danger of
discovery, when he that can best make it is put out of
the way; so that terrifying thieves too much provokes
them to cruelty.

* ^ But as to the question, what more convenient way of
punishment can be found ? I think it is much more easy
to find out that, than to invent anything that is worse;
why should we doubt but the way that was so long in use
among the old Romans, who understood so well the arts
of government, was very proper for their punishment?
They condemned such as they found guilty of great crimes,
to work their whole lives in quarries, or to dig in mines
with chains about them. But the method that I liked
best, was that which I observed in my travels in Persia,
among the Polylerits, who are a considerable and well-
governed people. They pay a yearly tribute to the King
of Persia; but in all other respects they are a free nation,
and governed by their own laws. They lie far from the
sea, and are environed with hills; and being contented with
the productions of their own country, which is very fruit-
ful, they have little commerce with any other nation; and
as they, according to the genius of their country, have
no inclination to enlarge their borders; so their moun-
tains, and the pension they pay to the Persian, secure them
from all invasions. Thus they have no wars among them;
they live rather conveniently than with splendor, and may
be rather called a happy nation, than either eminent or
famous; for I do not tliink that they are known so much
as by name to any but their next neighbors. Those that
are fotmd guilty of theft among them, are bound to make
restitution to the owner, and not as it is in other places,
to the prince, for they reckon that the prince has no more
right to the stolen goods than the thief; but if that which
was stolen is no more in being, then the goods of the
thieves are estimatedi and restitution being made out of

144 UTOPIA

them ; the remainder is given to their wives and children;
and they themselves are condemned to serve in the pub.
lie works, but are neither imprisoned nor chained, unless
there happened to be some extraordinary circumstances
in their crimes. They go about loose and free, working
for the public. If they are idle or backward to work, they
are whipped ; but if they work hard, they are well used
and treated without any mark of reproach, only the lists
of them are called always at night, and then they are
shut up. They suffer no other uneasiness, but this of
constant labor; for as they work for the public, so they
are well entertained out of the public stock, which is done
differently in different places. In some places, whatever
is bestowed on them, is raised by a charitable contribu-
tion; and though this way may seem uncertain, yet so
merciful are the inclinations of that people, that they are
plentifully supplied by it; but in other places, public rev-
enues are set aside for them; or there is a constant tax
Df a poll-money raised for their maintenance. In some
places they are set to no public work, but every private
man that has occasion to hire workmen, goes to the
market-places and hires them of the public, a little lowet
than he would do a freeman : if they go lazily about theii
task, he may quicken them with the whip. By this means
there is always some piece of work or other to be done
by them; and beside their livelihood, they earn somewhat
still to the public. They all wear a peculiar habit, of one
certain color, and their hair is cropped a little above their
ears, and a piece of one of their ears is cut off. Their
friends are allowed to give them either meat, drink, or
clothes, so they are of their proper color; but it is
death, both to the giver and taker, if they give them
money; nor is it less penal for any freeman to take money
from them, upon any account whatsoever: and it is also
death for any of these slaves (so they are called) to handle
arms. Those of every division of the country are dis-
tinguished by a peculiar mark; which it is capital for
them to lay aside, to go out of their bounds, or to talk
with a slave of another jurisdiction ; and the very attempt
of an escape is no less penal than an escape itself; it is
death for any other slave to be accessory to it; and if a

UTOPIA 145

freeman engfages in it he is condemned to slavery. Those
that discover it are rewarded; if freemen, in money; and
if slaves, with liberty, together with a pardon for being
accessory to it; that so they might find their account,
rather in repenting of their engaging in such a desigpa,
than in persisting in it

* These are their laws and rules in relation to robbery;
and it is obvious that they are as advantageous as they
are mild and gentle; since vice is not only destroyed, and
men preserved, but they are treated in such a manner as
to make them see the necessity of being honest, and of
employing the rest of their lives in repairing the injuries
they have formerly done to society. Nor is there any
hazard of their falling back to their old customs: and so
little do travelers apprehend mischief from them, that
they generally make use of them for guides, from one
jurisdiction to another; for there is nothing left them by
which they can rob, or be the better for it, since as they
are disarmed, so the very having of money is a sufiScient
conviction: and as they are certainly punished if discov-
eredy so they cannot hope to escape; for their habit being
in all the parts of it different from what is commonly
worn, they cannot fly. away, unless they would go naked,
and even then their cropped ear would betray them.
The only danger to be feared from them, is their con-
spiring against the Government: but those of one division
and neighborhood can do nothing to any purpose, unless
a general conspiracy were laid among all the slaves of
the several jurisdictions, which cannot be done, since
they cannot meet or talk together; nor will any venture
on a design where the concealment would be so danger-
ous, and the discovery so profitable. None are quite
hopeless of recovering their freedom, since by their
obedience and patience, and by giving good grounds to
believe that they will change their manner of life for
the future, they may expect at last to obtain their liberty;
and some are every year restored to it, upon the good
character that is given of them. When I had related all
this, I added, that I did not see why such a method
might not be followed with more advantage, than could
ever be expected from that severe justice which the

10

146 UTOPIA

counselor magnified so much. To this he answered, that
it could never take place in England, without endanger-
ing the whole nation. As he said this, he shook his
head, made some grimaces, and held his peace, while all
the company seemed of his opinion, except the Cardinal,
who said that it was not easy to form a judgment of its
success, since it was a method that never yet had been
tried. *But if,* said he, *when the sentence of death
was passed upon a thief, the prince would reprieve him
for a while, and make the experiment upon him, denjring
him the privilege of a sanctuary; and then if it had a
good effect upon him, it might take place; and if it did
not succeed, the worst would be to execute the sentence
on the condemned persons at last And I do not see,*
added he, ^why it would be either unjust, inconvenient,
or at all dangerous, to admit of such a delay: in my
opinion, the vagabonds ought to be treated in the same
manner; against whom, though we have made many laws,
yet we have not been able to gain our end.* When the
Cardinal had done, they all commended the motion,
though they had despised it when it came from me; but
more particularly commended what related to the vaga-
bonds, because it was his own observation.

• I do not know whether it be worth while to tell what
followed, for it was very ridiculous; but I shall venture at
it, for as it is not foreign to this matter, so some good
use may be made of it. There was a jester standing by,
that counterfeited the fool so naturally, that he seemed
to be really one. The jests which he offered were so
cold and dull, that we laughed more at him than at them;
yet sometimes he said, as it were by chance, things that
were not unpleasant; so as to justify the old proverb,
* That he who throws the dice often, will sometimes have
a lucky hit.* When one of the company had said, that
I had taken care of the thieves, and the Cardinal had
taken care of the vagabonds, so that there remained
nothing but that some public provision might be made
for the poor, whom sickness or old age had disabled
from labor. ^ Leave that to me,* said the fool, ^and I
shall take care of them; for there is no sort of people
whose sight I abhor more, having been so often vexed

UTOPIA 147

with them, and with their sad complaints; but as dole-
fully soever as they have told their tale, they could never
prevail so far as to draw one penny from me: for either
I had no mind to give them anything, or when I had a
mind to do it, I had nothing to give them : and they now
know me so well, that they will not lose their labor, but
let me pass without giving me any trouble, because they
hope for nothing, no more, in faith, than if I were a
priest: but I would have a law made, for sending all
these beggars to monasteries, the men to the Benedictines
to be made lay-brothers, and the women to be nuns.'
The Cardinal smiled, and approved of it in jest; but the
rest liked it in earnest There was a divine present, who
though he was a grave, morose man, yet he was so
pleased with this reflection that was made on the priests
and the monks, that he began to play with the fool, and
said to him, ^ This will not deliver you from all beggars,
except you take care of us friars.* * That is done already,*
answered the fool, *for the Cardinal has provided for you,
by what he proposed for restraining vagabonds, and set-
ting them to work, for I know no vagabonds like you.*
This was well entertained by the whole company, who
looking at the Cardinal, perceived that he wt not ill-
pleased at it; only the friar himself was vexed, as miy
be easily imagined, and fell into such a passion, that he
could not forbear railing at the fool, and calling him
knave, slanderer, backbiter, and son of perdition, and
then cited some dreadful threatenings out of the Script-
ures against him. Now the jester thought he was in his
element, and laid about him freely. *Grood friar,* said
he, ^be not angry, for it is written, *In patience pos-
sess your soul.** The friar answered (for I shall give
you his own words), ^I am not angry, you hangman; at
least I do not sin in it, for the Psalmist says, ^Be ye
angry, and sin not.* * Upon this the Cardinal admonished
him gently, and wished him to govern his passions. ^No,
my lord,* said he, ^I speak not but from a good zeal,
which I ought to have; for holy men have had a good
zeal, as it is said, ^ The zeal of thy house hath eaten me
up;* and we sing in our church, that those who mocked
Elisha as he went up to the house of God, felt the effects

148 UTOPIA

of his zeal; which that mocker, that rogue, that scotin-
drel, will perhaps feel.* *You do this perhaps with a
good intention,* said the Cardinal; ^but in my opinion,
it were wiser in you, and perhaps better for you, not to
engage in so ridiculous a contest with a fool. * ^ No, my
lord,* answered he, Hhat were not wisely done; for Sol-
omon, the wisest of men, said, ^Answer a fool accord-
ing to his folly ;^ which I now do, and show him the
ditch into which he will fall, if he is not aware of it;
for if the many mockers of Elisha, who was but one bald
man, felt the e£Eect of his zeal, what will become of one
mocker of so many friars, among whom there are so
many bald men ? We have likewise a BuU, by which all
that jeer us are excommunicated.* When the Cardinal
saw that there was no end of this matter, he made a
sign to the fool to withdraw, turned the discourse another
way; and soon after rose from the table, and dismissing
us, went to hear causes.

"Thus, Mr. More, I have run out into a tedious story,
of the length of which I had been ashamed, if, as you
earnestly begged it of me, I had not observed you to
hearken to it, as if you had no mind to lose any part of
it. I might have contracted it, but I resolved to give it
you at large, that you might observe how those that
despised what I had proposed, no sooner perceived that
the Cardinal did not dislike it, but presently ai)proved of
it, fawned so on him, and flattered him to such a degree,
that they in good earnest applauded those things that he
only liked in jest. And from hence you may gather, how
little courtiers would value either me or my counsels.*

To this I answered, * You have done me a great kind-
ness in this relation; for as everything has been related
by you, both wisely and pleasantly, so you have made me
imagine that I was in my own country, and grown young
again, by recalling that good Cardinal to my thoughts, in
whose family I was bred from my childhood: and though
you are upon other accounts very dear to me, yet you
are the dearer, because you honor his memory so much;
but after all this I cannot change my opinion; for I still
think that if you could overcome that aversion which you
have to the Courts of Princes, you might, by the advice

UTOPIA 149

which it is in yotir power to give, do a great deal of good
to mankind; and this is the chief desigpa that every good
man ought to propose to himself in living: for your friend
Plato thinks that nations will be happy, when either phi-
losophers become kings, or kings become philosophers;
it is no wonder if we are so far from that happiness,
while philosophers will not think it their duty to assist
kings with their councils.* •They are not so base-
minded,* said he, *but that they would willingly do it:
many of them have already done it by their books, if
those that are in power would but hearken to their good
advice. But Plato judged right, that except kings them-
selves became philosophers, they who from their child-
hood are corrupted with false notions, would never fall
in entirely with the councils of philosophers, and this he
himself found to be true in the person of Dionysius.

• Do not you think, that if I were about any king, pro-
posing good laws to him, and endeavoring to root out all
the cursed seeds of evil that I found in him, I should
either be turned out of his Court, or at least be laughed at
for my pains ? For instance, what could it sigpaify if I
were about the King of France, and were called into his
cabinet-council, where several wise men, in his hearing,
were proposing many expedients; as by what arts and
practices Milan may be kept; and Naples, that had so
oft slipped out of their hands, recovered; how the Vene-
tians, and after them the rest of Italy, may be subdued ;
and then how Flanders, Brabant, and all Burgundy, and
some other kingdoms which he has swallowed already in
his designs, may be added to his empire. One proposes
a league with the Venetians, to be kept as long as he
finds his account in it, and that he ought to communicate
councils with them, and give them some share of the spoil,
till his success makes him need or fear them less, and
then it will be easily taken out of their hands. Another
proposes the hiring the Germans, and the securing the
Switzers by pension. Another proposes the gaining the
Emperor by money, which is omnipotent with him. An-
other proposes a peace with the King of Aragon, and in
order to cement it, the yielding up the King of Navarre's
pretensions. Anotiber thinks the Prince of Castile is to

ISO UTOPIA

be wrought on, by the hope of an alliance, and that some
of his courtiers are to be gained to the French faction by
pensions. The hardest point of all is what to do with Eng-
land: a treaty of peace is to be set on foot, and if their alli-
ance is not to be depended on, yet it is to be made as
firm as possible; and they are to be called friends, but
suspected as enemies; therefore the Scots are to be kept
in readiness, to be let loose upon England on every occa-
sion; and some banished nobleman is to be supported
underhand (for by the league it cannot be done avowedly)
who has a pretension to the crown, by which means that
suspected prince may be kept in awe. Now when things
are in so great a fermentation, and so many gallant men
are joining councils, how to carry on the war, if so mean
a man as I should stand up and wish them to change
all their councils, to let Italy alone, and stay at home,
since the kingdom of France was indeed greater than
could be well governed by one man; that therefore he
ought not to think of adding others to it: and if after
this, I should propose to them the resolutions of the
Achorians, a people that lie on the southeast of Utopia,
who long ago engaged in war, in order to add to the
dominions of their prince another kingdom, to which he
had some pretensions by an ancient alliance. This they
conquered, but found that the trouble of keeping it was
equal to that by which it was gained; that the conquered
people were always either in rebellion or exposed to for-
eign invasions, while they were obliged to be incessantly
at war, either for or against them, and consequently
could never disband their army; that in the meantime
they were oppressed with taxes, their money went out of
the kingdom, their blood was spilt for the glory of their
king, without procuring the least advantage to the people,
who received not the smallest benefit from it even in
time of peace ; and that their manners being corrupted by
a long war, robbery and murders everywhere abounded,
and their laws fell into contempt; while their king, dis-
tracted with the care of two kingdoms, was the less able
to apply his mind to the interests of either. When they
saw this, and that there would be no end to these evils,
they by joint cotmcils made an humble address to their

UTOPIA 151

king, desiring him to choose which of the two kingdoms
he had the greatest mind to keep, since he conld not
hold both; for they were too great a people to be gov-
erned by a divided king, since no man would willingly
have a groom that shonld be in common between him and
another. Upon which the good prince was forced to quit
his new kingdom to one of his friends (who was not long
after dethroned), and to be contented with his old one.
To this I would add, that after all those warlike attempts,
the vast confusions, and the consumption both of treas-
ure and of people that must follow them ; perhaps upon
some misfortune, they might be forced to throw up all
at last; therefore it seemed much more eligible that the
king should improve his ancient kingdom all he could,
and make it flourish as much as possible; that he should
love his people, and be beloved of them; that he should
live among them, govern them gently, and let other
kingdoms alone, since that which had fallen to his share
was big enough, if not too big for him. Pray how do
you think would such a speech as this be heard?* ^I
confess,* said f , * I think not very well. *

•But what,* said he, •if I should sort with another
kind of ministers, whose chief contrivances and consul-
tations were, by what art the prince's treasures might be
mcreased. Where one proposes raising the value of
specie when the king's debts are large, and lowering it
when his revenues were to come in, that so he might
both pay much with a little, and in a little receive a
great deal; another proposes a pretense of a war, that
money might be raised in order to carry it on, and that
a peace be concluded as soon as that was done ; and this
with such appearances of religion as might work on the
people, and make them impute it to the piety of their
prince, and to his tenderness for the lives of his sub-
jects. A third oflEers some old musty laws, that have
been antiquated by a long disuse ; and which, as they had
been forgotten by all the subjects, so they had been also
broken by them; and proposes the levying the penalties
of these laws, that as it would bring in a vast treasure,
so there might be a very good pretense for it, since it
would look like the executing a law, and the doing of

151 UTOPIA

justice. A fourth proposes the prohibiting of many things
under severe penalties, especially such as were against
the interest of the people, and then the dispensing with
these prohibitions upon great compositions, to those who
might find their advantage in breaking them. This would
serve two ends, both of them acceptable to many; for as
those whose avarice led them to transgress would be se-
verely fined, so the selling licenses dear would look as if
a prince were tender of his people, and would not easily,
or at low rates, dispense with anything that might be
against the public good. Another proposes that the judges
must be made sure, that they may declare always in
favor of the prerogative, that tiiey must be often sent for
to Court, that the king may hear them argue those points
in which he is concerned; since how unjust soever any
of his pretensions may be, yet still some one oi other
of them, either out of contradiction to others, or the
pride of singularity, or to make their court, would find
out some pretense or other to give the king a fair color
to carry the point: for if the judges but differ in opinion,
the clearest thing in the world is made by that means
disputable, and truth being once brought in question, the
king may then take advantage to expound the law for
his own profit; while the judges that stand out will be
brought over, either out of fear or modesty; and they
being thus gained, all of them may be sent to the bench
to give sentence boldly, as the king would have it; for
fair pretenses will never be wanting when sentence is to
be given in the prince's favor. It will either be said
that equity lies of his side, or some words in the law
will be found sounding that way, or some forced sense
will be put on them; and when all other things fail, the
king's undoubted prerogative will be pretended, as that
which is above all law; and to which a religious judge
ought to have a special regard. Thus all consent to that
maxim of Crassus, that a prince cannot have treasure
enough, since he must maintain his armies out of it: that
a king, even though he would, can do nothing unjustly;
that all property is in him, not excepting the very per-
sons of his subjects: and that no man has any other
property, but that which the king out of his goodness

UTOPIA 153

thinks fit to leave him. And they think it is the prince's
interest, that there be as little of this left as may be, as if
it were his advantage that his people should have neither
riches nor liberty; since these things make them less
easy and less willing to submit to a cruel and unjust
government; whereas necessity and poverty blunts them,
makes them patient, beats them down, and breaks
that height of spirit, that might otherwise dispose
them to rebel. Now what if after all these propositions
were made, I should rise up and assert, that such cotmcils
were both unbecoming a king, and mischievous to him:
and that not only his honor but his safety consisted more
in his people's wealth, than in his own; if I should show
that they choose a king for their own sake, and not for
his; that by his care and endeavors they may be both
easy and safe; and that therefore a prince ought to take
more care of his people's happiness than of his own, as
a shepherd is to take more care of his flock than of himself
It is also certain, that they are much mistaken that think
that the poverty of a nation is a means of the public
safety. Who quarrel more than beggars? Who does
more earnestly long for a change, than he that is uneasy
in his present circumstances? And who run to create
confusions with so desperate a boldness, as those who
have nothing to lose, hope to gain by them ? If a king
should fall tmder such contempt or envy, that he could
not keep his subjects in their duty, but by oppression
and ill usage, and by rendering them poor and miserable,
it were certainly better for him to quit his kingdom,
than to retain it by such methods, as makes him while
he keeps the name of authority, lose the majesty due to
it. Nor is it so becoming the dignity of a king to reign
over beggars, as over rich and happy subjects. And
therefore Fabricius, a man of a noble and exalted temper,
said, he would rather govern rich men, than be rich
himself; since for one man to abound in wealth and
pleasure, when all about him are mourning and groan-
ing, is to be a gaoler and not a king. He is an unskill-
ful physician, that cannot cure one disease without
casting his patient into another: so he that can find no
other way for correcting the errors of his people, but by

154 UTOPIA

taking from them the conveniences of life, shows that he
knows not what it is to govern a free nation. He him-
self ought rather to shake off his sloth, or to lay down
his pride; for the contempt or hatred that his people
have for him, takes its rise from the vices in himself.
Let him live upon what belongs to him, without wrong-
ing others, and accommodate his expense to his revenue.
Let him punish crimes, and by his wise conduct let him
endeavor to prevent them, rather than be severe when
he has suffered them to be too common: let him not
rashly revive laws that are abrogated by disuse, especially
if they have been long forgotten, and never wanted ; and
let him never take any penalty for the breach of them,
to which a judge would not give way in a private man,
but would look on him as a crafty and unjust person for
pretending to it. To these things I would add, that law
among the Macarians, a people that lie not far from Utopia,
by which their king, on the day on which he begins to
reig^, is tied by an oath confirmed by solemn sacrifices,
never to have at once above a thousand pounds of gold
in his treasures, or so much silver as is equal to that in
value. This law, they tell us, was made by an excellent
king, who had more regard to the riches of his country
than to his own wealth; and therefore provided against
the heaping up of so much treasure, as might impoverish
the people. He thought that moderate sum might be
sufficient for any accident; if either the king had occasion
for it against rebels, or the kingdom against the invasion
of an enemy; but that it was not enough to encourage
a prince to invade other men's rights, a circumstance
that was the chief cause of his making that law. He
also thought that it was a good provision for that free
circulation of money, so necessary for the course of
commerce and exchange; and when a king must distribute
all those extraordinary accessions that increase treasure
beyond the due pitch, it makes him less disposed to
oppress his subjects. Such a king as this will be the
terror of ill men, and will be beloved by all the good.
^ If, I say, I should talk of these or such like things,
to men that had taken their bias another way, how deaf
would they be to all I could say?* •No doubt, very

UTOPIA 155

deaf,* answered I; and no wonder, for one is never to oflEer
at propositions or advice that we are certain will not be
entertained. Discourses so much out of the road could
not avail anything, nor have any effect on men whose
minds were prepossessed with different sentiments. This
philosophical way of speculation is not tmpleasant among
friends in a free conversation, but there is no room for
it in the Courts of Princes where great affairs are car-
ried on by authority. * * That is what I was saying, •
replied he, * that there is no room for philosophy in the
Courts of Princes. * « Yes, there is, • said I, * but not
for this speculative philosophy that makes everything to
be alike fitting at all times: but there is another philos-
ophy that is more pliable, that knows its proper scene,
accommodates itself to it, and teaches a man with pro-
propriety and decency to act that part which has fallen
to his share. If when one of Plautus's comedies is upon
the stage and a company of servants are acting their
parts, you should come out in the garb of a philosopher,
and repeat out of * Octavia's discourse of Seneca's to Nero,*
would it not be better for you to say nothing than by
mixing things of such different natures to make an im-
pertinent tragi-comedy ? For you spoil and corrupt the
play that is in hand when you mix with it things of an
opposite nature, even though they are much better.
Therefore go through with the play that is acting the
best you can, and do not confound it because another
that is pleasanter comes into your thoughts. It is even
so in a commonwealth, and in the councils of princes; if
ill opinions cannot be quite rooted out, and you cannot
cure some received vice according to your wishes, you
must not therefore abandon the commonwealth, for the
same reasons you should not forsake the ship in a storm
because you cannot command the winds. You are
not obliged to assault people with discourses that
are out of their road, when you see that their received
notions must prevent your making an impression upon them.
You ought rather to cast about and to manage things with
all the dexterity in your x)ower, so that if you are not
able to make them go well they may be as little ill as
possible ; for except all men were good everything cannot

156 ^ UTOPIA

be right and that is a blessing that I do not at present
hope to see. According to your arguments,* answered
he, *all that I could be able to do would be to preserve
myself from being mad while I endeavored to cure the
madness of others; for if I speak truth, I must repeat
what I have said to you; and as for lying, whether a
philosopher can do it or not, I cannot tell, I am sure I
cannot do it But though these discourses may be un-
easy and ungrateful to them, I do not see why they
should seem foolish or extravagant: indeed if I should
either propose such things as Plato has contrived in his
commonwealth, or as the Utopians practice in theirs,
though they might seem better, as certainly they are,
yet they are so different from our establishment, which
is founded on property, there being no such thing among
them, that I could not expect that it would have any
effect on them; but such discourses as mine, which only
call past evils to mind and give warning of what may
follow, have nothing in them that is so absurd that they
may not be used at any time, for they can only be un-
pleasant to those who are resolved to run headlong the
contrary way; and if we must let alone everything as
absurd or extravagant which by reason of the wicked
lives of many may seem uncouth, we must, even among
Christians, give over pressing the greatest part of those
things that Christ hath taught us, though he has com-
manded us not to conceal them, but to proclaim on the
house-tops that which he taught in secret The greatest
parts of his precepts are more opposite to the lives of
the men of this age than any part of my discourse has
been; but the preachers seemed to have learned that
craft to which you advise me, for they, observing that the
world would not willingly suit their lives to the rules
that Christ has given, have fitted his doctrine as if it
had been a leaden rule, to their lives, that so some way
or other they might agree with one another. But I see
no other effect of this compliance except it be that men
become more secure in their wickedness by it. And this
is all the success that I can have in a Court, for I must
always differ from the rest, and then I shall signify
nothing; or if I agree with them, I shall then only help

UTOPIA 157

forward their madness. I do not comprehend what you
mean by your casting about, or by the bending and hand-
ling things so dexterously, that if they go not well they
may go as little ill as may be; for in Courts they will
not bear with a man's holding his peace or conniving at
what others do. A man must barefacedly approve of the
worst counsels, and consent to the blackest desigpas: so
that he would pass for a spy, or possibly for a traitor,
that did but coldly approve of such wicked practices; and
therefore when a man is engaged in such a society, he
will be so far from being able to mend matters by his
casting about, as you call it, that he will find no occasions
of doing any good: the ill company will sooner corrupt
him, than be the better for him: or if notwithstanding
all their ill company, he still remains steady and innocent,
yet their follies and knavery will be imputed to him; and
by mixing counsels with them, he must bear his share
of all the blame that belongs wholly to others.

• It was no ill simile by which Plato set forth the un-
reasonableness of a philosopher's meddling with govern-
ment. If a man, says he, was to see a great company
run out every day into the rain, and take delight in being
wet; if he knew that it would be to no purpose for him
to go and persuade them to return to their houses, in
order to avoid the storm, and that all that could be ex-
pected by his going to speak to them would be that he
himself should be as wet as they, it would be best for
him to keep within doors; and since he had not influence
enough to correct other people's folly, to take care to
preserve himself.

•Though to speak plainly my real sentiments, I must
freely own, that as long as there is any property, and
while money is the standard of all other things, I cannot
think that a nation can be governed either justly or hap-
pily: not justly, because the best things will fall to the
share of the worst inen; nor happily, because all things
will be divided among a few (and even these are not in
all respects happy), the rest being left to be absolutely
miserable. Therefore, when I reflect on the wise and
good constitution of the Utopians, among whom all things
are so well governed, and with so few laws; where virtue

158 UTOPIA

hath its due reward, and yet there is such an equality,
that every man lives in plenty; when I compare with
them so many other nations that are still making new
laws, and yet can never bring their constitution to a
right regulation, where, notwithstanding, every one has his
property; yet all the laws that they can invent have not
the power either to obtain or preserve it, or even to enable
men certainly to distinguish what is their own from what
is another's; of which the many lawsuits that every day
break out and are eternally depending, give too plain a
demonstration; when, I say, I balance all these things in
my thoughts, I grow more favorable to Plato, and do not
Wonder that he resolved not to make any laws for such as
would not submit to a community of all things: for so wise
a man could not but foresee that the setting all upon a level
was the only way to make a nation happy, which cannot be
obtained so long as there is property: for when every man
draws to himself all that he can compass, by one title or
another, it must needs follow, that how plentiful soever a
nation may be, yet a few dividing the wealth of it among
themselves, the rest must fall into indigence. So that
there will be two sorts of people among them, who de-
serve that their fortunes should be interchanged; the
former useless, but wicked and ravenous; and the latter.
Who by their constant industry serve the public more than
themselves, sincere and modest men. From whence I am
persuaded, that till property is taken away there can be no
equitable or just distribution of things, nor can the world
be happily governed: for as long as that is maintained,
the greatest and the far best part of mankind will be still
oppressed with a load of cares and anxieties. I confess
without taking it quite away, those pressures that lie on a
great part of mankind may be made lighter; but they can
never be quite removed. For if laws were made to de-
termine at how great an extent in soil and at how much
money every man must stop, to limit the prince that he
might not grow too great, and to restrain the people that
they might not become too insolent, and that none might
factiously aspire to public employments; which ought
neither to be sold, nor made burdensome by a great ex-
f>ense ; since otherwise those that serve in them would be

UTOPIA 159

tempted to reimburse themselves by cheats and violence,
and it would become necessary to find out rich men for
undergoing those emplojrments which ought rather to be
trusted to the wise. These laws, I say» might have
such effects, as good diet and care might have on a
sick man, whose recovery is desperate: they might
allay and mitigate the disease, but it could never be
quite healed, nor the body politic be brought again to
a good habit, as long s^s property remains; and it wiU
fall out as in a complication of diseases, that by ap-
plying a remedy to one sore, you will provoke another;
and that which removes the one ill sjrmptom produces
others, while the strengthening one part of the body
weakens the rest.* *On the contrary, • answered I, •it
seems to me that men cannot live conveniently, where all
things are common; how can there be any plenty, where
every man will excuse himself from labor ? For as the
hope of gain doth not excite him, so the confidence that he
has in other men's industry may make him slothful; if
people come to be pinched with want, and yet cannot dis-
pose of anything as their own; what can follow upon this
but perpetual sedition and bloodshed, especially when the
reverence and authority due to magistrates falls to the
ground ? For I cannot imagine how that can be kept up
among those that are in all things equal to one another.*
•I do not wonder,* said he, •that it appears so to you,
since you have no notion, or at least no right one, of
such a constitution; but if you had been in Utopia with
me, and had seen their laws and rules, as I did, for the
space of five years, in which I lived among them; and
during which time I was so delighted with them, that
indeed I should never have left them, if it had not been
to make the discovery of that new world to the Euro-
peans; you would then confess that you had never seen
a people so well constituted as they.* •You will not
easily persuade me,* said Peter, •that any nation in that
new world is better governed than those among us. For
as our understandings are not worse than theirs, so our
government, if I mistake not, being more ancient, a long
practice has helped us to find out many conveniences of
life- and some happy chances have discovered other

i6o UTOPIA

things to us, whicli no man's understanding could ever
have invented. • •As for the antiquity, either of their
government, or of ours,* said he, * you cannot pass a true
judgment of it, unless you had read their histories; for
if they are to be believed, they had towns among them
before these parts were so much as inhabited. And as
for those discoveries, that have been either hit on by
chance, or made by ingenious men, these might have
happened there as well as here. I do not deny but we
are more ingenious than they are, but they exceed us
much in industry and application. They knew little con-
cerning us before our arrival among them; they call us
all by the general name of the nations that lie beyond
the Equinoctial Line; for their Chronicle mentions a ship-
wreck that was made on their coast 1,200 years ago; and
that some Romans and Egyptians that were in the ship,
getting safe ashore, spent the rest of their days among
them; and such was their ingenuity, that from this sin-
gle opportunity they drew the advantage of learning from
those unlooked-for guests, and acquired all the useful
arts that were then among the Romans, and which were
known to these shipwrecked men; and by the hints that
they gave them, they themselves found out even some of
those arts which they could not fully explain; so happily
did they improve that accident of having some of our
people cast upon their s^hore. But if such an accident
has at any time brought any from thence into Europe,
we have been so far from improving it, that we do not
so much as remember it; as in after-times perhaps it will
be forgot by our people th^t I was ever there. For
though they from one such accident made themselves
masters of all the good inventions that were among us;
yet I believe it would be long before we should learn or
put in practice any of the good institutions that are
among them. And this is the true cause of their being
better governed, and living happier than we, though we
come not short of them in point of imderstanding or out-
ward advantages. • Upon this I said to him, *I earnestly
beg you would describe that island very particularly to
us. Be not too short, but set out in order all things
relating to their soil, their rivers, their towns, their peo-

UTOPIA i6i

pie, their manners, constitution, laws, and, in a word,
all that you imagine we desire to know. And you may
well imagine that we desire to know everything concern-
ing them, of which we are hitherto ignorant* *I will
do it very willingly, • said he, •for I have digested the
whole matter carefully; but it will take up some time.*
•Let us go then,* said I, •first and dine, and then we
shall have leisure enough.* He consented. We went in
and dined, and after dinner came back, and sat down in
the same place. I ordered my servants to take care that
none might come and interrupt us. And both Peter and
I desired Raphael to be as good as his word. When he
saw that we were very intent upon it, he paused a little
to recollect himself, and began in this manner.
II

BOOK IL

The island of Utopia is in the middle two hundred
miles broad, and holds almost at the same breadth over
a great part of it; but it grows narrower toward both
ends. Its figure is not tmlike a crescent: between its
horns, the sea comes in eleven miles broad, and spreads
itself into a great bay, which is environed with land to
the compass of about five hundred miles, and is well
secured from winds. In this bay there is no great cur-
rent, the whole coast is, as it were, one continued harbor, ")
which gives all that live in the island great convenience
for mutual commerce ; but the entry into the bay, oc-
casioned by rocks on the one hand, and shallows on the
other, is very dangerous. In the middle of it there is
one single rock which appears above water, and may
therefore be easily avoided, and on the top of it there is
a tower in which a garrison is kept, the other rocks lie
under water, and are very dangerous. The channel is
known only to the natives, so that if any stranger should
enter into the bay, without one of their pilots, he would
run great danger of shipwreck; for even they themselves
could not pass it safe, if some marks that are on the
coast did not direct their way; and if these should be
but a little shifted, any fleet that might come against
them, how great soever it were, woiild be certainly lost.
On the other side of the island there are likewise many
harbors; and the coast is so fortified, both by nature and
art, that a small number of men can hinder the descent
of a great army. But they report (and there remains
good marks of it to make it credible) that this was no
island at first, but a part of the continent. Utopus that
conquered it (whose name it still carries, for Abraxa was
its first name) brought the rude and uncivilized inhab-
itants into such a good government, and to that measure
of politeness, that they now far excel all the rest of man-
kind; having soon subdued them, he designed to separate
(x6j)

UTOPIA 163

them from the continent, and to bring the sea quite
round them. To accomplish this, he ordered a deep
channel to be dug fifteen miles long; and that the natives
might not think he treated them like slaves, he not only
forced the inhabitants, but also his own soldiers, to labor
in carrying it on. As he set a vast number of men to
work, he beyond all men's expectations brought it to a
speedy conclusion. And his neighbors, who at first
laughed at the folly of the undertaking, no sooner saw
it brought to perfection, than they were struck with ad-
miration and terror.

- There are fifty-four cities in the island, all large and
well built: the manners, customs, and laws of which are
the same, and they are all contrived as near in the same
manner as the ground on which they stand will allow.
The nearest lie at least twenty-four miles distant from
one another, and the most remote are c not so far distant,
but that a man can go on foot in one day from it, to
that which lies next it. Every city sends three of their

^wisest senators once a year tq Amaurot^ to consult about
their common concerns; for that is the chief town of the
island^ being situated near the centre, of it, so that it is
the most convenient place for their assemblies. The
jurisdiction of every city extends at least twenty miles:
and where the towns lie wider, they have much more
ground: no town desires to enlarge its bounds, for the peo-
ple consider themselves rather as tenants than landlords.
They have built over all the country, farmhouses for
husbandmen, which are well contrived, and are furnished
with all things necessary for country labor. Inhabitants
are sent by turns from the cities to dwell in them; no
country family has fewer than forty men and women in
it, besides two slaves. There is a master and a mistress
set over every family; and over thirty families there is a
magistrate. Every year twenty of this family come back
to the town, after they have stayed two years in the
cotmtry; and in their room there are other twenty sent
from tiie town, that they may learn country work from
those that have been already one year in the country,
as they must teach those that come to them the next
from the town. By this means such as dwell in those

id4 UTOPIA

country farms are never ignorant of agriculttire, and so
commit no errors, which might otherwise be fatal, and
bring them imder a scarcity of com. But though there
is every year such a shifting of the husbandmen, to
prevent any man being forced against his will to follow
that hard course of life too long; yet many among them
take such pleasuj*e in it, that they desire leave to con-
tinue in it many years. These husbandmen till the
ground, breed cattle, hew wood, and convey it to the
towns, either by land or water, as is most convenient.
They breed an infinite multitude of chickens in a very
curious manner; for the hens do not sit and hatch them,
but vast number of eggs are laid in a gentle and equal
heat, in order to be hatched, and they are no sooner out
of the shell, and able to stir about, but they seem to
consider those that feed them as their mothers, and
follow them as other chickens do the hen that hatched
them. They breed very few horses, but those they have
are full of mettle, and are kept only for exercising their
youth in the art of sitting and riding them; for they do
not put them to any work, either of plowing or carriage,
in which they employ oxen; for though their horses are
stronger, yet they find oxen can hold out longer; and as
they are not subject to so many diseases, so they are
kept upon a less charge, and with less trouble ; and even
when they are so worn out, that they are no more fit for
labor, they are good meat at last. They sow no com,
but that which is to be their bread; for they drink
either wine, cider, or perry, and often water, sometimes
boiled with honey or licorice, with which they abound;
and though they know exactly how much com will serve
every town, and all that tract of country which belongs
to it, yet they sow much more, and breed more cattle
than are necessary for their consumption; and they give
that overplus of which they make no use to their neigh-
bors. When they want anything in the country which
it does not produce, they fetch that from the town,
without carrying anything in exchange for it. And the
magistrates of the town take care to see it given them ;
for they meet generally in the town once a month, upon
a festival day. When the time of harvest comes, the

UTOPIA 165

magistrates in the country send to those in the towns, and
let them know how many hands they will need for reap-
ing the harvest; and the number they call for being sent
to them, they commonly dispatch it all in one day.

Of Their Towns, Particularly of Amaurot.

Hb that knows one of their towns, knows them all, '^>
they are so like one another, except where the situation '^
makes some difference. I shall therefore describe one of
them; and none is so proper as Amaurot; for as none is-
more eminent, all the rest yielding in precedence to this,
because it is the seat of their supreme council ; so there
was none of them better known to me, I having lived
five years altogether in it.

- It lies upon the side of a hill, or rather a rising groimd: ^-
its figure is almost square, for from the one side of it,
which shoots up almost to the top of the hill, it runs
down in a descent for two miles to the river Anider; but
it is a little broader the other way that runs along the

^bank of that river. The Anider rises about eighty miles
above Amaurot in a small spring at first; but other
brooks falling into it, of which two are more consider-
able than the rest. As it runs by Amaurot, it is grown
half a mile broad; but it still grows larger and larger,
till after sixty miles' cburse below it, it is lost in the
ocean, between the town and the sea, and for some miles
above the town, it ebbs and flows every six hours, with
a strong current. The tide comes up for about thirty
miles so full, that there is nothing but salt water in the
river, the fresh water being driven back with its force;
and above that, for some miles, the water is brackish;
but a little higher, as it runs by the town, it is quite
fresh ; and when the tide ebbs, it continues fresh all along
to the sea. There is a bridge cast over the river, not of
timber, but of fair stone, consisting of many stately
arches; it lies at that part of the town which is farthest
from the sea, so that ships without any hindrance lie all
along the side of the town. There is likewise another
river that runs by it, which though it is not great, yet it
runs pleasantly, for it rises out of the same hill on which

i66 UTOPIA

the town stands, and so runs down through it, and falls
into the Anider. The inhabitants have fortified the
fountain head of this river, which springs a little without
the towns; that so if they should happen to be besieged,
the enemy might not be able to stop or divert the course
"of the water, nor poison it; from thence it is carried in
earthen pipes to the lower streets; and for those places
of the town to which the water of that small river cannot
be conveyed, they have great cisterns for receiving the
rain water, which supplies the want of the other. The'
town is compassed with a high and thick wall, in which
there are many towers and fort^; there is also a broad
and deep dry ditch, set thick with thorns, cast roimd
three sides of the town, and the river is instead of a
•ditch on the fourth side. The streets are very convenient
. for all carriage, and are well sheltered from the winds.
Their buildings are good, and are so uniform, that a whole
side of a street looks like one house. The streets are
twenty feet broad; there lie gardens behind all their
houses; these are large but inclosed with buildings, that
on all hands face the streets; so that every house has
both a door to the street, and a back door to the garden.
Their doors have all two leaves, which, as they are easily
opened, so they shut of their own accord; and there being
no property among them, every man may freely enter
into any house whatsoever. At every ten years' end they
shift their houses by lots. They cultivate their gardens
with great care, so that they have both vines, fruits,
herbs, and flowers in them; and all is so well ordered,
and so finely kept, that I never saw gardens anywhere
that were both so fruitful and so beautiful as theirs. And
this humor of ordering their gardens so well, is not only
kept up by the pleasure they find in it, but also by an
emulation between the inhabitants of the several streets,
who vie with each other; and there is indeed nothing
belonging to the whole town that is both more useful
and more pleasant. So that he who founded the town,
seems to have taken care of nothing more than of their
gardens; for they say, the whole scheme of the town was
designed at first by Utopus, but he left all that belonged
to the ornament and improvement of it, to be added by

UTOPIA 167

those that should come after him, that being too much
lOr one man to bring to perfection. Their records, that
contain the history of their town and state, are preserved
with an exact care, and run back 1,760 years. From
these it appears that their houses were at first low and
mean, like cottages, made of any sort of timber, and were
built with mud walls and thatched with straw. But now -^
their houses are three stories high; the fronts of them
are faced either with stone, plastering, or brick; and
between the facings of their walls they throw in their ,^
rubbish. Their roofs are flat, and on them they lay a
sort of plaster, which costs very little, and yet is so tem-
pered that it is not apt to take fire, and yet resists the
weather more than lead. They have great quantities of
glass among them, with which they glaze their windows.
They use also in their windows a thin linen cloth, that
is so oiled or gummed that it both keeps out the wind
and gives free admission to the light

Of Their Magistrates.

Thirty families choose every year a magistrate, who ^
was anciently called the Syphogrant, but is now called
the Philarch; and over every ten Syphogrants, with the
families subject to them, there is another magistrate, who .
was anciently called the Tranibor, but of late the Arch-
philarch. All the Syphogrants, who are in nimiber 200^
choose the Prince out of a list of four, who are named
by the people of the four divisions of the city; but they
take an oath before they proceed to an election, that they
will choose him whom they think most fit for the office.
They give their voices secretly so that it is not known for
whom every one gives his suffrage. The Prince is for
life, unless he is removed upon suspicion of some design
to enslave the people. The Tranibors are new chosen
every year, but yet they are for the most part continued.
All their other magistrates are only annual. The Trani-
bors meet every third day, and oftener if necessary, and
consult with the Prince, either concerning the affairs of
the state in general, or such private differences as may
arise sometimes among the people; though that falls out

i68 UTOPIA

but seldom. There are always two Syphogrants called
into the council chamber, and these are changed every
day. It is a fundamental rule of their government, that
. no conclusion can be made in an3rthing that relates to the
public, till it has been first debated three several days in
their council. It is death for any to meet and consult
concerning the state, unless it be either in their ordinary
council, or in the assembly of the whole body of the
people.

These things have been so provided among them, that
the Prince and the Tranibors may not conspire together
to change the government, and enslave the people; and
therefore when anything of great importance is set on
foot, it is sent to the Syphogrants; who after they have
communicated it to the families that belong to their divi-
sions, and have considered it among themselves, make
report to the senate ; and upon great occasions, the matter
is referred to the council of the whole island. One rule
observed in their coimcil, is, never to debate a thing on the
same day in which it is first proposed; for that is always
referred to the next meeting, that so men may not rashly,
and in the heat of discourse, engage themselves too soon,
which might bias them so much, that instead of consulting
the good of the public, they might rather study to support
their first opinions, and by a perverse and preposterous
sort of shame, hazard their country rather than endanger
their own reputation, or venture the being suspected to
have wanted foresight in the expedients that they at first
proposed. And therefore to prevent this, they take care
that they may rather be deliberate than sudden in their
motions.

Of Their Trades, and Manner of Life.

Agriculture is that which is so universally understood
among them, that no person, either man or woman, is
ignorant of it; they are instructed in it from their child-
hood, partly by what they learn at school, and partly by
practice; they being led out often into the fields, about
the town, where they not only see others at work, but are
likewise exercised in it themselves. Besides agriculture,

UTOPIA 169

which is so common to them all, every man has some i
peculiar trade to which he applies himself, such as the '
manufacture of wool, or flax, masonry, smith's work, or
carpenter's work; for there is no sort of trade that is in
great esteem among them. Throughout the island they
wear the same sort of clothes without any other distinc-
tion, except what is necessary to distinguish the two
sexes, and the married and unmarried. The fashion
never alters; and as it is neither disagreeable nor un-
easy, so it is suited to the climate, and calculated both
for their summers and winters. Every family makes
their own clothes; but all among them, women as well
as men, learn one or other of the trades formerly men-
tioned. Women, for the most part, deal in wool and flax,
which suit best with their weakness, leaving the ruder
trades to the men. The same trade generally passes
down from father to son, inclinations often following
descent; but if any man's genius lies another way, he is
by adoption translated into a family that deals in the
trade to which he is inclined; and when that is to be
done, care is taken not only by his father, but by the
magistrate, that he may be put to a discreet and good
man. And if after a person has learned one trade, he
desires to acquire another, that is also allowed, and is
managed in the same manner as the former. When he
has learned both, he follows that which he likes best,
unless the public has more occasion for the other.

The chief, and almost the only business of the sypho-
grants, is to take care that no man may live idle, but
that every one may follow his trade diligently; yet they
do not wear themselves out with perpetual toil, from
morning to night, as if they were beasts of burden, which
as it is indeed a heavy slavery, so it is everywhere the
common course of life among all mechanics except the
Utopians; but they, dividing the day and night into
twenty-four hours, appoint six of these for work; three
of which are before dinner; and three after. They then
sup, and at eight o'clock, counting from noon, go to bed
and sleep eight hours. The rest of their time besides
that taken up in work, eating and sleeping, is left to every
man's discretion; yet they are not to abuse that interval

I70 UTOPIA

to luxury and idleness, but must employ it in some proper
exercise according to their various inclinations, which is
for the most part reading. It is ordinary to have public
lectures every morning before daybreak; at which none
are obliged to appear but those who are marked out for
literature; yet a great many, both men and women of
all ranks, go to hear lectures of one sort or other, accord-
ing to their inclinations. But if others, that are not
made for contemplation, choose rather to employ them-
selves at that time in their trades, as many of them do,
they are not hindered, but are rather commended, as
men that take care to serve their cotmtry. After sup-
per, they spend an hour in some diversion, in sum-
mer in their gardens, and in winter in the halls where
they eat; where they entertain each other, either with
music or discourse. They do not so much as know dice,
or any such foolish and mischievous games; they have,
however, two sorts of games not unlike our chess; the
one is between several numbers, in which one number,
as it were, consumes another; the other resembles a battle
between the virtues and the vices, in which the enmity
in the vices among themselves, and their agreement
against virtue is not unpleasantly represented; together
with the special oppositions between the particular vir-
tues and vices; as also the methods by which vice either
openly assaults or secretly undermines virtue ; and virtue
on the other hand resists it. But the time appointed for
labor is to be narrowly examined, otherwise you may
imagine, that since there are only six hours appointed
for work, they may fall under a scarcity of necessary
provisions. But it is so far from being true, that this
time is not suflficient for supplying them with plenty of
all things, either necessary or convenient; that it is rather
too much; and this you will easily apprehend, if you
consider how great a part of all other nations is quite
idle. First, women generally do little, who are the half
of mankind; and if some few women are diligent, their
husbands are idle; then consider the great company of
idle priests, and of those that are called religious men ;
add to these all rich men, chiefly those that have estates
in land» who are called noblemen and gentlemen.

UTOPIA 171

together with their families, made tip of idle persons,
that are kept more for show than use; add to these, all ^

those strong and lusty beggars, that go about pretending ' 1* '

some disease, in excuse for their begging; and upon the
whole account you will find that the number of those by
whose labors mankind is supplied, is much less than you
perhaps imagined. Then consider how few of those that
work are employed in labors that are of real service; for
we who measure all things by money, give rise to many i ■"

trades that are both vain and superfluous, and serve only ^ ^

to support riot and luxury. For if those who work were \ i ^

employed only in such things as the conveniences of life . . * ^ .

require, there would be such an abimdance of them, that '
the prices of them would so sink, that tradesmen could ;^ ^1
not be maintained by their gains; if all those who labor •-* e ^ ^^
about useless things, were set to more profitable employ-
ments, and if all they that languish out their lives in
sloth and idleness, every one of whom consumes as much
as any two of the men that are at work, were forced to
labor, you may easily imagine that a small proportion of
time would serve for doing all that is either necessary,
profitable, or pleasant to mankind, especially while pleas-
ure is kept within its due bounds. This appears very
plainly in Utopia, for there, in a great city, and in all
the territory that lies round it, you can scarce find five
hundred, either men or women, by their age and
strength, are capable of labor, that are not engaged in
it; even the Syphogrants, though excused by the law,
yet do not excuse themselves, but work, that by their
examples they may incite the industry of the rest of the
people. The like exemption is allowed to those, who being
recommended to the people by the priests, are by the
secret suflErages of the Syphogrants privileged from labor,
that they may apply themselves wholly to study; and if
any of these fall short of those hopes that they seemed
at first to give, they are obliged to return to work. And
sometimes a mechanic, that so employs his leisure hours,
as to make a considerable advancement in learning, is
eased from being a tradesman, and ranked among their
learned men. Out of these they choose their ambassa-
dors, their priests, their Tranibors, and the Prince him-

172 UTOPIA

self; anciently called their Barzenes, but is called of late
their Ademus.

And thus from the great numbers among them that
are neither suflEered to be idle, nor to be employed in
any fruitless labor, you may easily make the estimate
how much may be done in those few hours in which
they are obliged to labor. But besides all that has been
already said, it is to be considered that the needful arts
among them are managed with less labor than anywhere
else. The building or the repairing of houses among us
employ many hands, because often a thriftless heir suffers
a house that his father built to fall into decay, so that
his successor must, at a great cost, repair that which he
might have kept up with a small charge: it frequently
happens, that the same house which one person built at
a vast expense, is neglected by another, who thinks he
has a more delicate sense of the beauties of architecture;
and he, suffering it to fall to ruin, builds another at no
less charge. But among the Utopians, all things are so
regulated that men very seldom build upon a new piece
of ground; and are not only very quick in repairing their
houses, but show their foresight in preventing their
decay: so that their buildings are preserved very long,
with but little labor; and thus the builders to whom
that care belongs are often without employment, except
the hewing of timber, and the squaring of stones, that
the materials may be in readiness for raising a building
very suddenly, when there is any occasion for it. As to
their clothes, observe how little work is spent in them:
while they are at labor, they are clothed with leather
and skins, cast carelessly about them, which will last
seven years; and when they appear in public they put
on an upper garment, which hides the other; and these
are all of one color, and that is the natural color of the
wool. As they need less woolen cloth than is used any-
where else, so that which they make use of is much less
costly. They use linen cloth more; but that is prepared
with less labor, and they value cloth only by the white-
ness of the linen, or the cleanness of the wool, without
much regard to the fineness of the thread; while in other
places, four or five upper garments of woolen cloth, of

UTOPIA 173

different colors, and as many vests of silk, will scarce
serve one man; and while those that are nicer think ten
too few, every man there is content with one, which very
often serves him two years. Nor is there anjrthing that
can tempt a man to desire more ; for if he had them, he
would neither be the warmer, nor would he make one
jot the better appearance for it. And thus, since they
are all employed in some useful labor, and since they
content themselves with fewer things, it falls out that
there is a great abundance of all things among them: so
that it frequently happens, that for want of other work,
vast numbers are sent out to mend the highways. But
when no public undertaking is to be performed, the hours
of working are lessened. The magistrates never engage
the people in unnecessary labor, since the chief end of
the constitution is to regulate labor by the necessities of
the public, and to allow all the people as much time as
is necessary for the improvement of their minds, in
which they think the happiness of life consists.

Of Their Traffic.

But it is now time to explain to you the mutual inter*
course of this people, their commerce, and the rules by
which all things are distributed among them.

As their cities are composed of families, so their fam-
ilies are made up of those that are nearly related to one
another. Their women, when they grow up, are married
out; but all the males, both children and grandchildren,
live still in the same house, in great obedience to their
common parent, unless age has weakened his under-
standing; and in that case, he that is next to him in age
comes in his room. But lest any city should become either
too great, or by any accident be dispeopled, provision is
made that none of their cities may contain above six
thousand families, besides those of the country round it.
No family may have less than ten, and more than six-
teen persons in it; but there can be no determined num-
ber for the children under age. This rule is easily
observed, by removing some of the children of a more
fruitful couple to any other family that does not abotmd

> •

174 UTOPIA

so much in them. By the same rule, they supply cities
that do not increase so fast, from others that breed
faster; and if there is any increase over the whole island,
then they draw out a number of their citizens out of the
several towns, and send them over to the neighboring
continent; where, if they find that the inhabitants have
more soil than they can well cultivate, they fix a colony,
taking the inhabitants into their society, if they are willing
to live with them; and where they do that of their own
accord, they quickly enter into their method of life, and
conform to their rules, and this proves a happiness to
both nations; for according to their constitution, such
care is taken of the soil, that it becomes fruitful enough
for both, though it might be otherwise too narrow and
barren for any one of them. But if the natives refuse
to conform themselves to their laws, they drive them
out of those bounds which they mark out for themselves,
and use force if they resist. For they account it a very
just cause of war, for a nation to hinder others from
possessing a part of that soil, of which they make no
use, but which is su£Eered to lie idle and uncultivated;

, since every man has by the law of Nature a right to
such a waste portion of the earth as is necessary for his
subsistence. If an accident has so lessened the number
of the inhabitants of any of their towns, that it cannot
be made up from the other towns of the island without
diminishing them too much, which is said to have fallen
out but twice since they were first a people, when great
numbers were carried o£E by the plague; the loss is then
supplied by recalling as many as are wanted from their
colonies; for they will abandon these rather than su£Eer
the towns in the island to sink too low.

But to return to their manner of living in society, the
joldest man of every family, as has been already said, is
its governor. Wives serve their husbands, and children
their parents, and always the younger serves the elder.
Every city is divided into four equal parts, and in the

. middle of each there is a piarket place: what is brought
thither, and manufactured by the several families, is
carried from thence to houses appointed for that purpose,
in which all things of a sort are laid by themselves; and

UTOPIA 175

thither every father goes and takes whatsoever he or his
family stand in need of, without either paying for it, or
leaving anything in exchange. There is no reason for
giving a denial to any person, since there is such plenty
of everything among them; and there is no danger of a
man's asking for more than he needs; they have no in-
ducements to do this, since they are sure that they shall
always be supplied. It is the fear of want that makes
any of the whole race of animals either greedy or
ravenous; but besides fear, there is in man a pride that
makes him fancy it a particular glory to excel others
in pomp and excess. But by the laws of the Utopians,
there is no room for this. Near these markets there
are others for all sorts of provisions, where there are not
only herbs, fruits, and bread, but also fish, fowl, and
cattle. There are also, without their towns, places ap^
pointed near some running water, for killing their beasto^ ^\
and for washing away their filth; which is done by their .
slaves: for they su£Eer none of their citizens to kill their
cattle, because they think that pity and good nature,
which are among the best of those affections that are
bom with us, are much impaired by the butchering of
animals; nor do they suffer anything that is foul or un-
clean to be brought within their towns, lest the air should
be infected by ill smells which might prejudice their
health. In every street there are great halls that lie at
an equal distance from each other, distinguished by par-
ticular names. The Syphogrants dwell in those that are
set over thirty families, fifteen lying on one side of it,
and as many on the other. In these halls they all meet
and have their repasts. The stewards of every one of
them come to the market place at an appointed hour;
and according to the number of those that belong to the
hall, they carry home provisions. But they take more
care of their sick than of any others; these are lodged
and provided for in public hospitals; they have belong-.-'
ing to every town four hospitals, that are built without
their walls, and are so large that they may pass for little
towns; by this means, if they had ever such a number
of sick persons, they could lodge them conveniently, and
at such a distance, that such of them as are sick of infec-

176 UTOPIA

tious diseases may be kept so far from the rest that there
can be no danger of contagion. The hospitals are fur*
nished and stored with all things that are convenient foi
the ease and recovery of the sick; and those that are
put in them are looked after with such tender and watch-
ful care, and are so constantly attended by their skillful
physicians, that as none is sent to them against their
will, so there is scarce one in a whole town that, if he
should fall ill, would not choose rather to go thither than
lie sick at home.

After the steward of the hospitals has taken for the
sick whatsoever the physician prescribes, then the best
things that are left in the market are distributed equally
among the halls, in proportion to their numbers, only, in
the first place, they serve the Prince, the chief priest, the
Tranibors, the ambassadors, and strangers, if there are
any, which indeed falls out but seldom, and for whom
there are houses well furnished, particularly appointed
for their reception when they come among them. At the
hours of dinner and supper, the whole S3rphogranty being
called together by sound of trumpet, they meet and eat
together, except only such as are in the hospitals, or lie
sick at home. Yet after the haUs are served, no man is
hindered to carry provisions home from the market place;
for they know that none does that but for some good
reason; for though any that will may eat at home, yet
none does it willingly, since it is both ridiculous and
foolish for any to give themselves the trouble to make
ready an ill dinner at home, when there is a much more
plentiful one made ready for him so near hand. All the
uneasy and sordid services about these halls are per-
formed by their slaves; but the dressing and cooking
their meat, and the ordering their tables, belong only to
the women, all those of every family taking it by turns.
They sit at three or more tables, according to their num-
ber; the men sit toward the wall, and the women sit on
the other side, that if any of them should be taken sud-
denly ill, which is no uncommon case among women
with child, she may, without disturbing the rest, rise and
go to the nurses' room, who are there with the sucking
children; where there is always clean water at hand,

UTOPIA 177

and cradles in whicli they may lay the yonng children,
if there is occasion for it, and a fire that they may shift
and dress them before it. Every child is nursed by its
own mother, if death or sickness does not intervene; and
in that case the S}rphogrants' wives find out a nurse
quickly, which is no hard matter; for any one that can
do it, o£Eers herself cheerfully; for as they are much in-
clined to that piece of mercy, so the child whom they
nurse considers the nurse as its mother. All the children
under five years old sit among the nurses, the rest of the
younger sort of both sexes, till they are fit for marriage,
either serve those that sit at table; or if they are not
strong enough for that, stand by them in great silence,
and eat what is given them; nor have they any other
formality of dining. In the middle of the first table,
which stands across the upper end of the hall, sit the
S3rphogrant and his wife; for that is the chief and most
conspicuous place; next to him sit two of the most
ancient, for there go alwajrs four to a mess. If there is
a temple within that S3rphogranty, the priest and his
wife sit with the Syphogrant above all the rest: next them
there is a mixture of old and young, who are so placed,
that as the young are set near others, so they are nuxed
with the more ancient; which they say was appointed on
this account, that the gravity of the old people, and the
reverence that is due to them, might restrain the younger
from all indecent words and gestures. Dishes are not
served up to the whole table at first, but the best are
first set before the old, whose seats are distinguished
from the young, and after them all the rest are served
alike. The old men distribute to the younger any curious
meats that happen to be set before them, if there is not
such an abundance of them that the whole company may
be served alike.

Thus old men are honored with a particular respect;
yet all the rest fare as well as they. Both dinner and
supper are begun with some lecture of morality that is
read to them; but it is so short, that it is not tedious
nor uneasy to them to hear it: from hence the old men
take occasion to entertain those about them, with some
useful and pleasant enlargements; but they do not

IS

178 UTOPIA

engross the whole discourse so to themselves, during their
meals, that the younger may not put in for a share: on
the contrary, they engage them to talk, that so they may
in that free way of conversation find out the force of
every one's spirit, and observe his temper. They dis-
patch their dinners quickly, but sit long at supper; because
they go to work after the one, and are to sleep after the
other, during which they think the stomach carries on the
concoction more vigorously. They never sup without
music; and there is always fruit served up after meat;
while they are at table, some bum perfumes, and sprinkle
about fragrant ointments and sweet waters: in short,
they want nothing that may cheer up their spirits; they
give themselves a large allowance that way, and indulge
themselves in all such pleasures as are attended with no
,-> inconvenience. Thus do those that are in the towns live
\ together; but in the country, where they live at great
, distance, every one eats at home, and no family wants
/ any necessary sort of provision, for it is from them that
provisions are sent unto those that live in the towns.

Of the Traveling of the Utopians.

If any man has a mind to visit his friends that live in
some other town, or desires to travel and see the rest of
the country, he obtains leave very easily from the Sjrpho-
grant and Tranibors, when there is no particular occasion
for him at home. Such as travel, carry with them a pass-
port from the Prince, which both certifies the license
that is granted for traveling, and limits the time of their
return. They are furnished with a wagon and a slave,
who drives the oxen and looks after them: but unless
there are women in the company, the wagon is sent back
at the end of the journey as a needless encumbrance.
While they are on the road they carry no provisions
with them; yet they want nothing, but are everywhere
treated as if they were at home. If they stay in any
place longer than a night, every one follows his proper
occupation, and is very well used by those of his own
trade: but if any man goes out of the city to which he
belongs, without leave, and is found rambling without

UTOPIA 179

a passport, he is severely treated, he is punished as a
fugitive, and sent home disgracefully; and if he falls again
into the like fault, is condemned to slavery. If any
man has a mind to travel only over the precinct of his
own city, he may freely do it, with his father's permis-
sion and his wife's consent; but when he comes into any
of the country houses, if he expects to be entertained
by them, he must labor with them and conform to their
rules: and if he does this he may freely go over the
whole precinct; being thus as useful to the city to which
he belongs, as if he were still within it. Thus you see
that there are no idle persons among them, nor pretenses
of excusing any from labor. There are no taverns, no
alehouses nor stews among them; nor any other occasions
of corrupting each other, of getting into comers, or form-
ing themselves into parties: all men live in full view,
so that all are obliged, both to perform their ordinary
task and to employ themselves well in their spare hours.
And it is certain that a people thus ordered must live in
great abundance of all things; and these being equally
distributed among them no man can want or be obliged
to beg.

In their great council at Amaurot, to which there are
three sent from every town once a year, they examine
what towns abound in provisions, and what are under
any scarcity, that so the one may be furnished from the
other; and this is done freely, without any sort of ex-
change; for according to their plenty or scarcity, they
supply, or are supplied from one another; so that indeed
the whole island is, as it were, one family. When they
have thus taken care of their whole country, and laid up
stores for two years, which they do to prevent the ill
consequences of an unfavorable season, they order an ex-
portation of the overplus, both of com, honey, wool, flax,
wood, wax, tallow, leather, and cattle; which they send
out commonly in great quantities to other nations. They
order a seventh part of all these goods to be freely given
to the poor of the countries to which they send them,
and sell the rest at moderate rates. And by this ex-
change, they not only bring back those few things that
they need at home (for indeed they scarce need any-

i8o UTOPIA

thing but iron), but likewise a great deal of gold and sil-
ver; and by their driving this trade so long, it is not to be
imagined how vast a treasure they have got among them:
so that now they do not much care whether they sell o£E
their merchandise for money in hand, or upon trust. A
great part of their treasure is now in bonds; but in all
their contracts no private man stands bound, but the
writing runs in the name of the town; and the towns
that owe them money, raise it from those private hands
that owe it to them, lay it up in their public chamber,
or enjoy the profit of it till the Utopians call for it; and
they choose rather to let the greatest part of it lie in
their hands who make advantage by it, than to call for it
themselves: but if they see that any of their other neigh-
bors stand more in need of it, then they call it in and
lend it to them: whenever they are engaged in war,
which is the only occasion in which their treasure can be
usefully employed, they make use of it themselves. In
great extremities or sudden accidents they employ it in
hiring foreign troops, whom they more willingly expose
to danger than their own people: they give them great
pay, knowing well that this will work even on their ene-
mies, that it will engage them either to betray their own
side, or at least to desert it, and that it is the best means
of raising mutual jealousies among them: for this end
they have an incredible treasure; but they do not keep
it as a treasure, but in such a manner as I am almost
afraid to tell, lest you think it so extravagant, as to be
hardly credible. This I have the more reason to appre-
hend, because if I had not seen it myself, I could not
have been easily persuaded to have believed it upon any
man's report.

It is certain that all things appear incredible to us, in
proportion as they di£Eer from our own customs. But one
who can judge aright, will not wonder to find, that since
their constitution di£Eers so much from ours, their value
of gold and silver should be measured by a very diflEer-
ent standard ; for since they have no use for money among
themselves, but keep it as a provision against events
which seldom happen, and between which there are gen-
erally long intervening intervals; they value it no fur-

UTOPIA i8i

ther than it deserves, that is, in proportion to its use.
So that it is plain, they must prefer iron either to gold
or silver: for men can no more live without iron, than
without fire or water; but Nature has marked out no use
for the other metals, so essential as not easily to be dis-
pensed with. The folly of men has enhanced the value
of gold and silver, because of their scarcity. Whereas, on
the contrary, it is their opinion that Nature, as an indul-
gent parent, has freely given us all the best things in
great abundance, such as water and earth, but has laid
up and hid from us the things that are vain and useless.
If these metals were laid up in any tower in the king-
dom, it would raise a jealousy of the Prince and Senate,
and give birth to that foolish mistrust into which the
people are apt to fall, a jealousy of their intending to
sacrifice the interest of the public to their own private
advantage. If they should work it into vessels, or any
sort of plate, they fear that the people might grow too
fond of it, and so be unwilling to let the plate be run
down, if a war made it necessary to employ it in paying
their soldiers. To prevent all these inconveniences, they
have fallen upon an expedient, which as it agrees with
their other policy, so is it very different from ours, and
will scarce gain belief among us, who value gold so much,
and lay it up so carefully. They eat and drink out of
vessels of earth, or glass, which make an agreeable ap-
pearance though formed of brittle materials: while they
make their chamber-pots and close-stools of gold and sil-
ver; and that not only in their public halls, but in their
private houses: of the same metals they likewise make
chains and fetters for their slaves; to some of which, as
a badge of infamy, they hang an earring of gold, and
make others wear a chain or a coronet of the same metal;
and thus they take care, by all possible means, to render
gold and silver of no esteem. And from hence it is, that
while other nations part with their gold and silver, as
unwillingly as if one tore out their bowels, those of Uto-
pia would look on their giving in all they possess of those
(metals, when there were any use for them) but as the
parting with a trifle, or as we would esteem the loss of
a penny. They find pearls on their coast; and diamonds

i8a UTOPIA

and carbuncles on their rocks; they do not look after
them, but if they find them by chance, they polish them,
and with them they adorn their children, who are de-
lighted with them, and glory in them during their child-
hood; but when they grow to years, and see that none
but children use such baubles, they of their own accord,
without being bidden by their parents, lay them aside; and
would be as much ashamed to use them afterward, as
children among us, when they come to years, are of their
puppets and other toys.

I never saw a clearer instance of the opposite impres-
sions that different customs make on people, than I
observed in the ambassadors of the Anemolians, who came
to Amaurot when I was there. As they came to treat of
affairs of great consequence, the deputies from several towns
met together to wait for their coming. The ambassadors
of the nations that lie near Utopia, knowing their cus-
toms, and that fine clothes are in no esteem among them,
that silk is despised, and gold is a badge of infamy, used
to come very modestly clothed; but the Anemolians
Ijring more remote, and having had little commerce with
them, tmderstanding that they were coarsely clothed,
and all in the same manner, took it for granted that
they had none of those fine things among them of which
they made no use ; and they being a vain-glorious rather
than a wise people, resolved to set themselves out with
so much pomp, that they should look like gods, and
strike the eyes of the poor Utopians with their splendor.
Thus three ambassadors made their entry with an hun-
dred attendants, all clad in garments of different colors,
and the greater part in silk; the ambassadors themselves,
who were of the nobility of their country, were in cloth
of gold, and adorned with massy chains, earrings and
rings of gold: their caps were covered with bracelets
set full of pearls and other gems: in a word, they were
set out with all those things that, among the Utopians,
were either the badges of slavery, the marks of infamy,
or the playthings of children. It was not unpleasant to
see, on the one side, how they looked big, when they
compared their rich habits with the plain clothes of the
Utopians, who were come out in great numbers to see

UTOPIA 183

them make their entry: and, on the other, to observe
how much they were mistaken in the impression which
they hoped this pomp would have made on them. It
appeared so ridiculous a show to all that had never stirred
out of their country, and had not seen the customs of other
nations, that though they paid some reverence to those
that were the most meanly dad, as if they had been the
ambassadors, yet when they saw the ambassadors them-
selves, so full of gold and chains, they looked upon them
as slaves, and forbore to treat them with reverence. You
might have seen the children, who were grown big enough
to despise their playthings, and who had thrown away
their jewels, call to their mothers, push them gently, and
cry out, ^ See that great fool that wears pearls and gems, as
if he were yet a child.* While their mothers very inno-
cently replied, * Hold your peace, this I believe is one of
the ambassador's fools. * Others censured the fashion of
their chains, and observed that they were of no use; for
they were too slight to bind their slaves, who could easily
break them; and besides hung so loose about them, that
they thought it easy to throw them away, and so get
from them. But after the ambassadors had stayed a day
among them, and saw so vast a quantity of gold in their
houses, which was as much despised by them as it was
esteemed in other nations, and beheld more gold and
silver in the chains and fetters of one slave than all their
ornaments amounted to, their plumes fell, and they were
ashamed of all that glory for which they had formerly
valued themselves, and accordingly laid it aside; a reso-
lution that they immediately took when on their engag-
ing in some free discourse with the Utopians, they
discovered their sense of such things and their other cus-
toms. The Utopians wonder how any man should be
so much taken with the glaring, doubtful lustre of a
jewel or a stone, that can look up to a star, or to the sun
himself; or how any should value himself because his cloth
is made of a finer thread: for how fine soever that thread
may be, it was once no better than the fleece of a sheep,
and that sheep was a sheep still for all its wearing it.
They wonder much to hear that gold, which in itself is so
useless a thing, should be everywhere so much esteemed,

i84 UTOPIA

that even men for whom it was made, and by whom it
has its value, should yet be thought of less value
than this metal. That a man of lead, who has no more
sense than a log of wood, and is as bad as he is foolish,
should have many wise and good men to serve him, only
because he has a great heap of that metal ; and that if it
should happen that by some accident or trick of law
(which sometimes produces as great changes as chance
itself) all this wealth should pass from the master to the
meanest varlet of his whole family, he himself would
very soon become one of his servants, as if he were a
thing that belonged to his wealth, and so were bound to
follow its fortune. But they much more admire and de-
test the folly of those who when they see a rich man,
though they neither owe him anything, nor are in any
sort dependent on his bounty, yet merely because he is
rich give him little less than divine honors; even though
they know him to be so covetous and base-minded, that
notwithstanding all his wealth, he will not part with one
farthing of it to them as long as he lives.

These and such like notions have that people imbibed,
partly from their education, being bred in a country
whose customs and laws are opposite to all such foolish
maxims, and partly from their learning and studies; for
though there are but few in any town that are so wholly
excused from labor as to give themselves entirely up to
their studies, these being only such persons as discover
from their childhood an extraordinary capacity and dis-
position for letters; yet their children, and a great part
of the nation, both men and women, are taught to spend
those hours in which they are not obliged to work in
reading: and this they do through the whole progress of
life. They have all their learning in their own tongue,
which is both a copious and pleasant language, and in
which a man can fully express his mind. It rtms over a
great tract of many countries, but it is not equally pure
in all places. They had never so much as heard of the
names of any of those philosophers that are so famous
in these parts of the world, before we went among them;
and yet they had made the same discoveries as the Greeks,
both in music, logic, arithmetic, and geometry. But as

UTOPIA i8s

they are almost in everything equal to the ancient phil-
osopherSy so they far exceed our modem logicians; for
they have never yet fallen upon the barbarous niceties
that our youth are forced to learn in those trifling logical
schools that are among us; they are so far from mind-
ing chimeras, and fantastical images made in the mind,
that none of them could comprehend what we meant
when we talked to them of a man in the abstract, as
common to all men in particular (so that though we
spoke of him as a thing that we could point at with
our fingers, yet none of them could perceive him), and
yet distinct from every one, as if he were some mon-
strous Colossus or giant. Yet for all this ignorance of
these empty notions, they knew astronomy, and were
perfectly acquainted with the motions of the heavenly
bodies, and have many instruments, well contrived and
divided, by which they very accurately compute the
course and positions of the sun, moon, and stars. But
for the cheat, of divining by the stars, by their oppo-
sitions or conjunctions, it has not so much as entered
into their thoughts. They have a particular sagacity,
founded upon much observation, in judging of the weather,
by which they know when they may look for rain,
wind, or other alterations in the air; but as to the
philosophy of these things, the causes of the saltness
of the sea, of its ebbing and flowing, and of the origin
and nature both of the heavens and the earth; they
dispute of them, partly as our ancient philosophers
have done, and partly upon some new hypothesis, in
which, as they differ from them, so they do not in
all things agree among themselves.

As to moral philosophy, they have the same disputes
among them as we have here: they examine what are
properly good both for the body and the mind, and whether
any outward thing can be called truly good, or if that term
belongs only to the endowments of the soul. They inquire
likewise into the nature of virtue and pleasure ; but their
chief dispute is concerning the happiness of a man, and
wherein it consists ? Whether in some one thing, or in a
great many ? They seem, indeed, more inclinable to that
opinion that places, if not the whole, yet the chief part of

i86 UTOPIA

a man's happiness in pleasure ; and, what may seem more
strange, they make use of arguments even from religion,
notwithstanding its severity and roughness, for the sup-
port of that opinion so indulgent to pleasure; for they
never dispute concerning happiness without fetching some
arguments from the principles of religion, as well as from
natural reason, since without the former they reckon that
all our inquiries after happiness must be but conjectural
and defective.

These are their religious principles, that the soul of
man is immortal, and that God of his goodness has de-
signed that it should be happy; and that he has there-
fore appointed rewards for good and virtuous actions, and
pimishments for vice, to be distributed after this life.
Though these principles of religion are conveyed down
among them by tradition, they think that even reason
itself determines a man to believe and acknowledge them,
and freely confess that if these were taken away no man
would be so insensible as not to seek after pleasure by
all possible means, lawful or unlawful; using only this
caution, that a lesser pleasure might not stand in the way
of a greater, and that no pleasure ought to be pursued
that should draw a great deal of pain after it; for they
think it is the maddest thing in the world to pursue
virtue, that is a sour and di£Bicult thing; and not only to
renounce the pleasures of life, but willingly to undergo
much ;>ain and trouble, if a man has no prospect of a
reward. And what reward can there be for one that has
passed his whole life, not only without pleasure, but in
pain, if there is nothing to be expected after death ? Yet
they do not place happiness in all sorts of pleasures, but
only in those that in themselves are good and honest.
There is a party among them who place happiness in bare
virtue; others think that our natures are conducted by
virtue to happiness, as that which is the chief good of
man. They define virtue thus, that it is a living accord-
ing to Nature, and think that we are made by God for
that end; they believe that a man then follows the dictates
of Nature when he pursues or avoids things according to
the direction of reason; they say that the first dictate of
reason is the kindling in us a love and reverence for the

UTOPIA 187

Divine Majesty, to whom we owe both all that we have,
and all that we can ever hope for. In the next place, rea-
son directs us to keep onr minds as free from passion and
as cheerful as we can, and that we should consider ourselves
as bound by the ties of good-nature and humanity to use
our utmost endeavors to help forward the happiness of
all other persons; for there never was any man such a
morose and severe pursuer of virtue, such an enemy to
pleasure, that though he set hard rules for men to
undergo much pain, many watchings, and other rigors,
yet did not at the same time advise them to do all they
could, in order to relieve and ease the miserable, and who
did not represent gentleness and good nature as amiable
dispositions. And from thence they infer that if a man
ought to advance the welfare and comfort of the rest of
mankind, there being no virtue more proper and peculiar
to our nature, than to ease the miseries of others, to free
from trouble and anxiety, in furnishing them with the
comforts of life, in which pleasure consists, Nature much
more vigorously leads them to do all this for himself.
A life of pleasure is either a real evil, and in that case
we ought not to assist others in their pursuit of it, but
on the contrary, to keep them from it all we can, as from
that which is most hurtful and deadly; or if it is a good
thing, so that we not only may, but ought to help others
to it, why then ought not a man to begin with himself ?
Since no man can be more bound to look after the good
of another than after his own; for Nature cannot direct
us to be good and kind to others, and yet at the same
time to be unmerciful and cruel to ourselves. Thus, as
they define virtue to be living according to Nature, so
they imagine that Nature prompts all people on to seek
after pleasure, as the end of all they do. They also
observe that in order to otir supporting the pleasures of
life, Nature inclines us to enter into society; for there is
no man so much raised above the rest of mankind as to
be the only favorite of Nature, who, on the contrary,
seems to have placed on a level all those that belong to
the same species. Upon this they infer that no man
ought to seek his own conveniences so eagerly as to
prejudice others, and therefore they think that not only

i88 UTOPIA

all agreements between private persons ought to be
observed; but likewise that all those laws ought to be
kept, which either a good prince has published in due
form, or to which a people, that is neither oppressed with
tyranny nor circumvented by fraud, has consented, for
distributing those conveniences of life which afiEord us all
our pleasures.

They think it is an evidence of true wisdom for a man
to pursue his own advantages, as far as the laws allow it.
They account it piety to prefer the public good to one's
private concerns; but they think it unjust for a man to
seek for pleasure, by snatching another man's pleasures
from him. And on the contrary, they think it a sign of
a gentle and good soul, for a man to dispense with his
own advantage for the good of others; and that by this
means a good man finds as much pleasure one way, as
he parts with another; for as he may expect the like
from others when he may come to need it, so if that
shotdd fail him, yet the sense of a good action, and the
reflections that he makes on the love and gratitude of
those whom he has so obliged, gives the mind more
pleasure than the body could have found in that from
which it had restrained itself. They are also persuaded
that God will make up the loss of those small pleasures,
with a vast and endless joy, of which religion easily con-
vinces a good soul.

Thus upon an inquiry into the whole matter, they
reckon that all our actions, and even all our virtues,
terminate in pleasure, as in our chief end and greatest
happiness; and they call every motion or state, either of
body or mind, in which Nature teaches us to delight, a
pleasure. Thus they cautiously limit pleasure only to
those appetites to which Nature leads us; for they say
that Nature leads us only to those delights to which rea-
son as well as sense carries us, and by which we neither
injure any other person, nor lose the possession of greater
pleasures, and of such as draw no troubles after them;
but they look upon those delights which men by a fool-
ish, though common, mistake call pleasure, as if they
could change as easily the nature of things as the use of
words; as things that greatly obstruct their real happi-

UTOPIA 189

ness, instead of advancing it, because they so entirely
possess the minds of those that are once captivated by
them with a false notion of pleasure, that there is no
room left for pleasures of a truer or purer kind.

There are many things that in themselves have noth-
ing that is truly delightful ; on the contrary, they have a
good deal of bitterness in them: and yet from our per-
verse appetites after forbidden objects, are not only ranked
among the pleasures, but are made even the greatest de-
signs of life. Among those who pursue these sophisti-
cated pleasures, they reckon such as I mentioned before,
who think themselves really the better for having fine
clothes; in which they think they are doubly mistaken,
both in the opinion they have of their clothes, and in
that they have of themselves: for if you consider the
use of clothes, why should a fine thread be thought bet-
ter than a coarse one ? And yet these men, as if they
had some real advantages beyond others, and did not
owe them wholly to their mistakes, look big, seem to
fancy themselves to be more valuable, and imagine that
a respect is due to them for the sake of a rich garment,
to which they would not have pretended if they had been
more meanly clothed; and even resent it as an affront,
if that respect is not paid them. It is also a great folly
to be taken with outward marks of respect, which sig-
nify nothing: for what true or real pleasure can one man
find in another's standing bare, or making legs to him ?
Will the bending of another man's knees give ease to yours ?
And will the head's being bare cure the madness of
yours? And yet it is wonderful to see how this false
notion of pleasure bewitches many who delight them-
selves with the fancy of their nobility, and are pleased
with this conceit, that they are descended from ances-
tors, who have been held for some successions rich, and
who have had great possessions; for this is all that makes
nobility at present; yet they do not think themselves a
whit the less noble, though their immediate parents have
left none of this wealth to them, or though they them-
selves have squandered it away. The Utopians have no
better opinion of those who are much taken with gems
and precious stones, and who account it a degree of hap-

I90 UTOPIA

pinesSy next to a divine one, if they can purchase one
that is very extraordinary, especially if it be of that sort
of stones that is then in greatest request; for the same
sort is not at all times tmiversally of the same value;
nor will men buy it unless it be dismounted and taken
out of the gold; the jeweler is then made to give good
security, and required solemnly to swear that the $tone
is true, that by such an exact caution a false one might
not be bought instead of a true: though if you were to
examine it, your eye could find no difference between
the counterfeit and that which is true; so that they are
all one to you as much as if you were blind. Or can it
be thought that they who heap up an useless mass of
wealth, not for any use that it is to bring them, but
merely to please themselves with the contemplation of
it, enjoy any true pleasure in it? The delight they find
is only a false shadow of joy. Those are no better whose
error is somewhat different from the former, and who
hide it, oijt of their fear of losing it; for what other
name can fit the hiding it In the earth, or rather the
restoring it to it again, it being thus cut off from being
useful, either to its owner or the rest of mankind? And
yet the owner having hid it carefully, is glad, because
he thinks he is now sure of it. If it should be stolen,
the owner, though he might live perhaps ten years after
the theft, of which he knew nothing, would find no dif-
ference between his having or losing it; for both ways it
was equally useless to him.

Among those foolish pursuers of pleasure, they reckon
all that delight in hunting, in fowling, or gaming: of
whose madness they have only heard, for they have no
such things among them. But they have asked us, what
sort of pleasure is it that men can find in throwing the
dice ? For if there were any pleasure in it, they think the
doing of it so often should give one a surfeit of it: and
what pleasure can one find in hearing the barking and howl-
ing of dogs, which seem rather odious than pleasant
sounds? Nor can they comprehend the pleasure of see-
ing dogs run after a hare, more than of seeing one dog run
after another; for if the seeing them run is that which
gives the pleasure, you have the same entertainment to

UTOPIA 191

the eye on both these occasions, since that is the same
in both cases; but if the pleasure lies in seeing the hare
killed and torn by the dogs, this ought rather to stir
pity, that a weak, harmless and fearful hare should be
devoured by strong, fierce, and cruel dogs. Therefore
all this business of hunting is, among the Utopians,
turned over to their butchers; and those, as has been
already said, are all slaves, and they look on hunting as
one of the basest parts of a butcher's work: for they ac-
count it both more profitable and more decent to kill
those beasts that are more necessary and useful to man-
kind; whereas the killing and tearing of so small and
miserable an animal can only attract the huntsman with
a false show of pleasure, from which he can reap but
small advantage. They look on the desire of the blood-
shed, even of beasts, as a mark of a mind that is already
corrupted with cruelty, or that at least by the frequent
returns of so brutal a pleasure must degenerate into it.

Thus, though the rabble of mankind look upon these,
and on innumerable other things of the same nature, as
pleasures, the Utopians, on the contrary, observing that
there is nothing in them truly pleasant, conclude that
they are not to be reckoned among pleasures: for though
these things may create some tickling in the senses
(which seems to be a true notion of pleasure), yet they
imagine that this does not arise from the thing itself, but
from a depraved custom, which may so vitiate a man's
taste, that bitter things may pass for sweet; as women
with child think pitch or tallow tastes sweeter than honey;
but as a man's sense when corrupted, either by a disease
or some ill habit, does not change the nattire of other
things, so neither can it change the nature of pleasure.

They reckon up several sorts of pleasures, which they
call true ones: some belong to the body and others to
the mind. The pleasures of the mind lie in knowledge,
and in that delight which the contemplation of truth
carries with it; to which they add the joyful reflections
on a well-spent life, and the assured hopes of a future
happiness. They divide the pleasures of the body into
two sorts; the one is that which gives our senses some
real delight, and is performed, either by recruiting

192 UTOPIA

nature, and supplying those parts which feed the internal
heat of life by eating and drinking; or when nature is
eased of any surcharge that oppresses it; when we are
relieved from sudden pain, or that which arises from
satisfying the appetite which Nature has wisely given to
lead us to the propagation of the species. There is
another kind of pleasure that arises neither from our
receiving what the body requires, nor its being relieved
when overcharged, and yet by a secret, unseen virtue
affects the senses, raises the passions, and strikes the
mind with generous impressions; this is the pleasure that
arises from music. Another kind of bodily pleasure is
that which results from an undisturbed and vigorous
constitution of body, when life and active spirits seem
to actuate every part. This lively health, when entirely
free from all mixture of pain, of itself gives an inward
pleasure, independent of all external objects of delight;
and though this pleasure does not so powerfully afiEect us,
nor act so strongly on the senses as some of the others,
yet it may be esteemed as the greatest of all pleasures,
and almost all the Utopians reckon it the foundation and
basis of all the other joys of life ; since this alone makes
the state of life easy and desirable; and when this is
wanting, a man is really capable of no other pleasure.
They look upon freedom from pain, if it does not rise
from perfect health, to be a state of stupidity rather than
of pleasure. This subject has been very narrowly can-
vassed among them; and it has been debated whether a
firm and entire health could be called a pleasure or not ?
Some have thought that there was no pleasure but what
was excited by some sensible motion in the body. But
this opinion has been long ago excluded from among
them, so that now they almost universally agree that
health is the greatest of all bodily pleasures; and that
as there is a pain in sickness, which is as opposite in its
nature to pleasure as sickness itself is to health, so they
hold, that health is accompanied with pleasure; and if
any should say that sickness is not really pain, but that
it only carries pain along with it, they look upon that
as a fetch of subtilty, that does not much alter the mat-
ter. It is all one, in their opinion, whether it be said

UTOPIA 193

that health is in itself a pleasure, or that it begets a
pleasure, as fire gives heat; so it be granted, that all
those whose health is entire have a true pleasure in the
enjoyment of it: and they reason thus — what is the
pleasure of eating, but that a man's health which had
been weakened, does, with the assistance of food, drive
away hunger, and so recruiting itself recovers its former
vigor ? And being thus refreshed, it finds a pleasure in
that conflict; and if the conflict is pleasure, the victory
must yet breed a greater pleasure, except we fancy that
it becomes stupid as soon as it has obtained that which
it pursued, and so neither knows nor rejoices in its own
welfare. If it is said that health cannot be felt, they
absolutely deny it; for what man is in health that does
not perceive it when he is awake ? Is there any man that
is so dull and stupid as not to acknowledge that he feels
a delight in health ? And what is delight but another
name for pleasure ?

But of all pleasures, they esteem those to be most
valuable that lie in the mind; the chief of which arises
out of true virtue, and the witness of a good conscience.
They account health the chief pleasure that belongs to
the body; for they think that the pleasure of eating and
drinking and all the other delights of sense, are only so
far desirable as they give or maintain health. But they
are not pleasant in themselves, otherwise than as they
resist those impressions that our natural infirmities are
still making upon us : for as a wise man desires rather to
avoid diseases than to take physic; and to be freed from
pain, rather than to find e^e by remedies ; so it is more
desirable not to need this sort of pleasure than to be
obliged to indulge it. If any man imagines that there
is a real happiness in these enjo3anents, he must then con-
fess that he would be the happiest of all men if he
were to lead his life in perpetual hunger, thirst, and
itching, and by consequence in perpetual eating, drink-
ing, and scratching himself; which any one may easily
see would be not only a base, but a miserable state of a
life. These are indeed the lowest of pleasures, and the
least pure; for we can never relish them, but when they
are mixed with the contrary pains. The pain of hunger
13

194 UTOPIA

must give us the pleasure of eating; and here the pain
outbalances the pleasure; and as the pain is more vehe-
ment, so it lasts much longer; for as it begins before
the pleasure, so it does not cease but with the pleasure
that extinguishes it, and both expire together. They
think, therefore, none of those pleasures are to be valued
any further than as they are necessary; yet they rejoice
in them, and with due gratitude acknowledge the ten-
derness of the great Author of Nature, who has planted
in us appetites, by which those things that are necessary
for our preservation are likewise made pleasant to us.
For how miserable a thing would life be, if those
daily diseases of hunger and thirst were to be carried
off by such bitter drugs as we must use for those dis-
eases that return seldomer upon us? And thus these
pleasant as well as proper gifts of Nature maintain the
strength and sprightliness of our bodies.

They also entertain themselves with the other delights
let in at their eyes, their ears, and their nostrils, as the
pleasant relishes and seasonings of life, which Nature
seems to have marked out peculiarly for man; since no
other sort of animal contemplates the figure and beauty
of the universe ; nor is delighted with smells, any farther
than as they distinguish meats by them; nor do they
apprehend the concords or discords of sound: yet in all
pleasures whatsoever they take care that a lesser joy does
not hindef a greater, and that pleasure may never breed
pain, which they think always follows dishonest pleasures.
But they think it madness for a man to wear out the
beauty of his face, or the force of his natural strength;
to corrupt the sprightliness of his body by sloth and
laziness, or to waste it by fasting; that it is madness to
weaken the strength of his constitution, and reject the
other delights of life, unless by renouncing his own sat-
isfaction, he can either serve the public or promote the
happiness of others, for which he expects a greater rec-
ompense from God. So that they look on such a course
of life as the mark of a mind that is both cruel to itself,
and ungrateful to the Author of Nature, as if we would
not be beholden to him for his favors, and theref6re
reject all his blessings; as one who should afflict him-

UTOPIA 195

self for the empty shadow of virtue; or for no bettet
end to render himself capable of bearing those misfor-
tunes which possibly will never happen.

This is their notion of virtue and of pleasure: they
think no man's reason can carry him to a truer idea of
them, unless some discovery from Heaven should inspire
him with sublimer notions. I have not now the leisure
to examine whether they think right or wrong in this
matter; nor do I judge it necessary , for I have only un*
dertaken to give you, an accotmt of their constitution, but
not to defend all their principles. I am sure, that what-
soever may be said of their notions, there is not in the
whole world either a better people or a happier govern-
ment: their bodies are vigorous and lively; and though
they are but of a middle stature, and have neither the
most fruitful soil nor the purest air in the world, yet they
fortify themselves so well by their temperate course of
life, against the unhealthiness of their air, and by their
industry they so cultivate their soil, that there is no-
where to be seen a greater increase both of com and
cattle, nor are there anywhere healthier men, and freer
from diseases: for one may there see reduced to prac-
tice, not only all the art that the husbandman employs
in manuring and improving an ill soil, but whole woods
plucked up by the roots, and in other places new ones
planted, where there were none before. Their principal
motive for this is the convenience of carriage, that their
timber may be either near their towns, or growing on
the banks of the sea, or of some rivers, so as to be
floated to them; for it is a harder work to carry wood
any distance over land than com. The people are in-
dustrious, apt to learn, as well as cheerful and pleasant;
and none can endure more labor, when it is necessary;
but except in that case they love their ease. They are
unwearied pursuers of knowledge ; for when we had given
them some hints of the learning and discipline of the
Greeks, concerning whom we only instructed them (for
we know that there was nothing among the Romans,
except their historians and their poets, that they would
value much), it was strange to see how eagerly they
were set on learning that language. We began to read

196 UTOPIA

a little of it to them, rather in compliance with their
importunity, than out of any hopes of their reaping
from it any great advantage. But after a very short
trial, we found they made such progress, that we saw
our labor was like to be more successful than we
could have expected. They learned to write their
characters, and to pronounce their language so exactly,
had so quick an apprehension, they remembered it so
faithfully, and became so ready and correct in the use of
it, that it would have looked like a miracle if the greater
part of those whom we taught had not been men both
of extraordinary capacity and a fit age for instruction.
They were for the greatest part chosen from among their
learned men, by their chief council, though some studied
it of their own accord. In three years' time they became
masters of the whole language, so that they read the best
of the Greek authors very exactly. I am indeed apt to
think that they learned that language the more easily,
from its having some relation to their own. I believe that
they were a colony of the Greeks; for though their lan-
guage comes nearer the Persian, yet they retain many
names, both for their towns and magistrates, that are of
Greek derivation. I happened to carry a great many
books with me, instead of merchandise, when I sailed my
fourth voyage; for I was so far from thinking of soon
coming back, that I rather thought never to have returned
at all, and I gave them all my books, among which were
many of Plato's and some of Aristotle's works. I had also
Theophrastus on Plants, which to my great regret, was
imperfect; for having laid it carelessly by, while we were
at sea, a monkey had seized upon it, and in many places
torn out the leaves. They have no books of grammar but
Lascares, for I did not carry Theodorus with me; nor
have they any dictionaries but Hesichius and Dioscorides.
They esteem Plutarch highly, and were much taken with
Lucian's wit, and with his pleasant way of writing. As
for the poets, they have Aristophanes, Homer, Euripides,
and Sophocles of Aldus's edition; and for historians
Thucydides, Herodotus^ and Herodian. One of my com-
panions, Thricius Apinatus, happened to carry with him
some of Hippocrates's works, and Galen's Microtechne,

UTOPIA 197

v/hich they hold in great estimation; for though there is
no nation in the world that needs physic so little as they
do, yet there is not any that honors it so much: they
reckon the knowledge of it one of the pleasantest and most
profitable parts of philosophy, by which, as they search
into the secrets of Nature, so they not only find this study
highly agreeable, but think that such inquiries are very
acceptable to the Author of Nature ; and imagine that as
he, like the inventors of curious engines among man-
kind, has exposed this great machine of the universe to
the view of the only creatures capable of contemplating
it, so an exact and curious observer, who admires his
workmanship, is much more acceptable to him than one
of the herd, who like a beast incapable of reason, looks
on this glorious scene with the eyes of a dull and uncon-
cerned spectator.

The minds of the Utopians when fenced with a love
for learning, are very ingenious in discovering all such
arts as are necessary to carry it to perfection. Two
things they owe to us, the manufacture of paper, and the
art of printing: yet they are not so entirely indebted to
us for these discoveries, but that a great part of the in-
vention was their own. We showed them some books
printed by Aldus, we explained to them the way of mak-
ing paper, and the mystery of printing; but as we had
never practiced these arts, we described them in a crude
and superficial manner. They seized the hints we gave
them, and though at first they could not arrive at per-
fection, yet by making many essays they at last found
out and corrected all their errors, and conquered every
difficulty. Before this they only wrote on parchment, on
reeds, or on the barks of trees; but now they have es-
tablished the manufactures of paper, and set up printing-
presses, so that if they had but a good number of Greek
authors they would be quickly supplied with many cop-
ies of them: at present, though they have no more than
those I have mentioned, yet by several impressions they
have multiplied them into many thousands. If any man
were to go among them that had some extraordinary talent
or that by much traveling had observed the customs of
many nations (which made us to be so well received),

198 UTOPIA

he would receive a hearty welcome; for they are very
desirous to know the state of the whole world. Very
few go among them on the account of traffic, for what can
a man carry to them but iron, or gold, or silver, which
merchants desire rather to export than import to a
strange country; and as for their exportation, they think
it better to manage that themselves than to leave it to
foreigners, for by this means, as they understand the
state of the neighboring countries better, so they keep
up the art of navigation, which cannot be maintained
but by much practice.

Of Their Slaves, and of Their Marriages.

They do not make slaves of prisoners of war, ex-
cept those that are taken in battle; nor of the sons
of their slaves, nor of those of other nations: the
slaves among them are only such as are condemned
to that state of life for the commission of some crime,
or, which is more common, such as their merchants
find condemned to die in those parts to which they
trade, whom they sometimes redeem at low rates;
and in other places have them for nothing. They are
kept at perpetual labor, and are always chained, but
with this difference, that their own natives are treated
much worse than others; they are considered as more
profligate than the rest, and since they could not be
restrained by the advantages of so excellent an educa-
tion, are judged worthy of harder usage. Another sort
of slaves are the poor of neighboring countries, who
offer of their own accord to come and serve them; they
treat these better, and use them in all other respects as
well as their own countrymen, except their imposing more
labor upon them, which is no hard task to those who have
been accustomed to it; and if any of these have a mind to
go back to their own country, which indeed falls out but
seldom, as they do not force them to stay, so they do not
send them away empty-handed.

I have already told you with what care they look after
their sick, so that nothing is left undone that can con-
tribute either to their ease or health; and for those who

UTOPIA 199

are taken with fixed and inctirable diseases, they use all
possible ways to cherish them and to make their lives
as comfortable as possible. They visit them often, and
take great pains to make their time pass off easily; but
when any are taken with a torturing and lingering pain,
so that there is no hope, either of recovery or ease, the
priests and magistrates come and exhort them, that since
they are now unable to go on with the business oi
life, are become a burden to themselves and to all
about them, and they have really outlived themselves,
they should no longer nourish such a rooted distemper,
but choose rather to die, since they cannot live but in much
misery: being asstired, that if they thus deliver them-
selves from torture, or are willing that others should do
it, they shall be happy after death. Since by their act-
ing thus, they lose none of the pleasures, but only the
troubles of life; they think they behave not only reason-
ably, but in a manner consistent with religion and piety;
because they follow the advice given them by their priests,
who are the expounders of the will of God. Such as are
wrought on by these persuasions, either starve themselves
of their own accord, or take opium, and by that means
die without pain. But no man is forced on this way of
ending his life; and if they cannot be persuaded to it,
this does not induce them to fail in their attendance and
care of them; but as they believe that a voluntary death,
when it is chosen upon such an authority, is very honor-
able, so if any man takes away his own life, with-
out the approbation of the priests and the Senate, they
give him none of the honors of a decent funefal, but
throw his body into a ditch.

Their women are not married before eighteen, nor their
men before two-and-twenty, and if any of them run into
forbidden embraces before marriage they are severely
punished, and the privilege of marriage is denied them,
unless they can obtain a special warrant from the Prince.
Such disorders cast a great reproach upon the master
and mistress of the family in which they happen, for it
is supposed they have failed in their duty. The reason
of punishing this so severely is, because they think that
if they were not strictly restrained from all vagrant

loo UTOPIA

appetites, very few would engage in a state in which
they venture the quiet of their whole lives, by being
confined to one person, and are obliged to endure all the
inconveniences with which it is accompanied. In choos-
ing their wives they use a method that would appear to
us very absurd and ridiculous, but it is constantly
observed among them, and is accounted perfectly consist-
ent with wisdom. Before marriage some grave matron
presents the bride naked, whether she is a virgin or a
widow, to the bridegroom, and after that some grave
man presents the bridegroom naked to the bride. We
indeed both laughed at this, and condemned it as very
indecent. But they, on the other hand, wondered at the
folly of the men of all other nations, who, if they are
but to buy a horse of a small value, are so cautious that
they will see every part of him, and take off both his
saddle and all his other tackle, that there may be no
secret ulcer hid under any of them; and that yet in the
choice of a wife, on which depends the happiness or
unhr.ppiness of the rest of his life, a man should venture
upon trusw, and only see about a hand's-breadth of the
face, aSl the rest of the body being covered, under which
there may lie hid what may be contagious, as well as
loathsome. All men are not so wise as to choose a
woman only for her good qualities; and even wise men
consider the body as that which adds not a little to the
mind: and it is certain there may be some such deformity
covered with the clothes as may totally alienate a man
from his wife when it is too late to part with her. If
such a thing is discovered after marriage, a man has no
remedy but patience. They therefore think it is reason-
able that there should be good provision made against
such mischievous frauds.

There was so much the more reason for them to make
a regulation in this matter, because they are the only
people of those parts that neither allow of polygamy, nor
of divorces, except in the case of adultery, or insuffer-
able perverseness; for in these cases the Senate dissolves
the marriage, and grants the injured person leave to
marry again; but the guilty are made infamous, and are
never allowed the privilege of a second marriage. None

UTOPIA 20I

are suffered to ^iut away their wives against their wills,
from any great calamity that may have fallen on their
persons; for they look on it as the height of cruelty and
treachery to abandon either of the married persons when
they need most the tender care of their comfort, and
that chiefly in the case of old age, which as it carries
many diseases along with it, so it is a disease of itself.
But it frequently falls out that when a married couple
do not well agree, they by mutual consent separate, and
find out other persons with whom they hope they may
live more happily. Yet this is not done without obtain-
ing leave of the Senate, which never admits of a divorce,
but upon a strict inquiry made, both by the senators and
their wives, into the grounds upon which it is desired;
and even when they are satisfied concerning the reasons
of it, they go on but slowly, for they imagine that too
great easiness in granting leave for new marriages would
very much shake the kindness of married people. They
punish severely those that defile the marriage-bed. If
both parties are married they are divorced, and the in-
jured persons may marry one another, or whom they
please; but the adulterer and the adulteress are condemned
to slavery. Yet if either of the injured persons cannot
shake off the love of the married person, they may live
with them still in that state, but they must follow them
to that labor to which the slaves are condemned; and
sometimes the repentance of the condemned, together
with the unshaken kindness of the innocent and injured
person, has prevailed so far with the Prince that he has
taken off the sentence; but those that relapse after they
are once pardoned are punished with death.

Their law does not determine the punishment for
other crimes; but that is left to the Senate, to temper
it according to the circumstances of the fact. Husbands
have power to correct their wives, and parents to chas-
tise their children, unless the fault is so great that a
public punishment is thought necessary for striking terror
into others. For the most part, slavery is the punish-
ment even of the greatest crimes; for as that is no less
terrible to the criminals themselves than death, so they
think the preserving them in a state of servitude is

ao2 UTOPIA

more for the interest of the commonwealth than killing
them, since as their labor is a greater benefit to the
public than their death could be, so the sight of their
misery is a more lasting terror to other men than that
which would be given by their death. If their slaves
rebel, and will not bear their yoke, and submit to the labor
that is enjoined them, they are treated as wild beasts
that cannot be kept in order, neither by a prison, nor
by their chains; and are at last put to death. But those
who bear their punishment patiently, and are so much
wrought on by that pressure that lies so hard on them
that it appears they are really more troubled for the
crimes they have committed than for the miseries they
suffer, are not out of hope but that at last either the
Prince will, by his prerogative, or the people by their
intercession, restore them again to their liberty, or at
least very much mitigate their slavery. He that tempts
a married woman to adultery, is no less severely punished
than he that commits it; for they believe that a deliber-
ate design to commit a crime, is equal to the fact
itself: since its not taking effect does not make the
person that miscarried in his attempt at all the less
guilty.

They take great pleasure in fools, and as it is thought
a base and unbecoming thing to use them ill, so they
do not think it amiss for people to divert themselves
with their folly: and, in their opinion, this is a great
advantage to the fools themselves: for if men were so
sullen and severe as not at all to please themselves with
their ridiculous behavior and foolish sayings, which is
all they can do to recommend themselves to others, it
could not be expected that they would be so well pro-
vided for, nor so tenderly used as they must otherwise
be. If any man should reproach another for his being
misshapen or imperfect in any part of his body, it would
not at all be thought a reflection on the person so
treated, but it would be accounted scandalous in him
that had upbraided another with what he could not help.
It is thought a sign of a sluggish and sordid mind not
to preserve carefully one's natural beauty; but it is like-
wise infamous among them to use paint They all see

UTOPIA 303

that no beauty recommends a wife so mnch to her hus-
band as the piobity of her life, and her obedience: for
as some few are caught and held only by beauty, so all
are attracted by the other excellences which charm all
the world.

As they fright men from committing crimes by punish-
ments, so they invite them to the love of virtue by
public honors; therefore they erect statues to the mem-
ories of such worthy men as have deserved well of their
country, and set these in their market places, both to
perpetuate the remembrance of their actions, and to be
an incitement to their posterity to follow their example.

If* any man aspires to any office, he is sure never to
compass it; they all live easily together, for none of the
magistrates are either insolent or cruel to the people:
they affect rather to be called fathers, and by being
really so, they well deserve the name; and the people
pay them all the marks of honor the more freely, be-
cause none are exacted from them. The Prince himself
has no distinction, either of garments, or of a crown;
but is only distinguished by a sheaf of com carried be-
fore him; as the high priest is also known by his being
preceded by a person carrying a wax light.

They have but few laws, and such is their constitution
that they need not many. They very much condemn
other nations, whose laws, together with the commentaries
on them, swell up to so many volumes; for they think it an
unreasonable thing to oblige men to obey a body of laws
that are both of such a bulk, and so dark as not to be
read and understood by every one of the subjects.

They have no lawyers among them, for they consider
them as a sort of people whose profession it is to dis-
guise matters, and to wrest the laws; and therefore they
think it is much better that every man should plead his
own cause, and trust it to the judge, as in other places
the client trusts it to a counselor. By this means they
both cut off many delays, and find out truth more cer-
tainly: for after the parties have laid open the merits of
the cause, without those artifices which lawyers are apt
to suggest, the judge examines the whole matter, and sup-
ports the simplicity of such well-meaning persons, whom

2<H UTOPIA

otherwise crafty men would be sure to run down: and
thus they avoid those evils which appear very remarka-
bly among all those nations that labor under a vast load
of laws. Every one of them is skilled in their law, for
as it is a very short study, so the plainest meaning of
which words are capable is always the sense of their laws.
And they argue thus: all laws are promulgated for this
end, that every man may know his duty; and therefore
the plainest and most obvious sense of the words is that
which ought to be put upon them; since a more refined
exposition cannot be easily comprehended, and would only
serve to make the laws become useless to the greater part
of mankind, and especially to those who need most the
direction of them : for it is all one, not to make a law at
all, or to couch it in such terms that without a quick
apprehension, and much study, a man cannot find out the
true meaning of it; since the generality of mankind are
both so dull, and so much employed in their several trades,
that they have neither the leisure nor the capacity requi-
site for such an inquiry.

Some of their neighbors, who are masters of their own
liberties, having long ago, by the assistance of the
Utopians, shaken oflE the yoke of tyranny, and being
much taken with those virtues which they observe among
them, have come to desire that they would send magis-
trates to govern them; some changing them every year,
and others every five years. At the end of their govern-
ment they bring them back to Utopia, with great expres-
sions of honor and esteem, and carry away others to
govern in their stead. In this they seem to have fallen
upon a very good expedient for their own happiness an(J
safety; for since the good or ill condition of a nation
depends so much upon its magistrates, they could not
have made a better choice than by pitching on men
whom no advantages can bias ; for wealth is of no use to
them, since they must so soon go back to their own
country; and they being strangers among them, are not
engaged in any of their heats or animosities; and it is
certain that when public judicatories are swayed, either
by avarice or partial affections, there must follow a dis-
solution of justice, the chief sinew of society.

UTOPIA 20S

The Utopians call those nations that come and ask
magistrates from them, neighbors; but those to whom
they have been of more particular service, friends. And
as all other nations are perpetually either making leagues
or breaking them, they never enter into an alliance with
any state. They think leagues are useless things, and
believe that if the common ties of humanity do not knit
men together, the faith of promises will have no great
effect; and they are the more confirmed in this by what
they see among the nations round about them, who are
no strict observers of leagues and treaties. We know
how religiously they are observed in Europe, more par-
ticularly where the Christian doctrine is received, among
whom they are sacred and inviolable. Which is partly
owing to the justice and goodness of the princes them-
selves, and partly to the reverence they pay to the popes;
who as they are most religious observers of their own
promises, so they exhort all other princes to perform
theirs; and when fainter methods do not prevail, they
compel them to it by the severity of the pastoral censure,
and think that it would be the m<jct indecent thing pos-
sible if men who are particularly distinguished by the
title of the faithful, should not religiously keep the faith
of their treaties. But in that new-found world, which is
not more distant from us in situation than the people are
in their manners and course of life, there is no trusting
to leagues, even though they were made with all the pomp
of the most sacred ceremonies; on the contrary, they are
on this account sooner broken, some slight pretence being
found in the words of the treaties, which are purposely
couched in such ambiguous terms that they can never
be so strictly bound but they will always find some loop-
hole to escape at; and thus they break both their leagues
and their faith. And this is done with such impudence,
that those very men who value themselves on having
suggested these expedients to their princes, would with
a haughty scorn declaim against such craft, or to speak
plainer, such fraud and deceit, if they found private men
make use of it in their bargains, and would readily say
that they deserved to be hanged.

By this means it is, tl^at all sort of justice passes in the

ao6 UTOPIA

world for a low-spirited and vulgar virtue, far below the
dignity of royal greatness. Or at least, there are set up
two sorts of justice; the one is mean, and creeps on the
ground, and therefore becomes none but the lower part of
mankind, and so must be kept in severely by many re-
straints that it may not break out beyond the bounds that
are set to it. The other is the peculiar virtue of princes,
which as it is more majestic than that which becomes the
rabble, so takes a freer compass; and thus lawful and
unlawful are only measured by pleasure and interest.
These practices of the princes that lie about Utopia,
who make so little account of their faith, seem to be the
reasons that determine them to engage in no confeder-
acies, perhaps they would change their mind if they lived
among us; but yet though treaties were more religiously
observed, they would still dislike the custom of making
them; since the world has taken up a false maxim upon
it, as if there were no tie of Nature uniting one nation
to another, only separated perhaps by a mountain or a
river, and that all were bom in a state of hostility, and
so might lawfully do all that mischief to their neighbors
against which there is no provision made by treaties ; and
that when treaties are made, they do not cut off the en«
mity, or restrain the license of preying upon each other,
if by the unskillfulness of wording them there are not
effectual provisos made against them. They, on the
other hand, judge that no man is to be esteemed our enemy
that has never injured us; and that the partnership of
the human nature is instead of a league. And that kind-
ness and good-nature unite men more effectually and with
greater strength than any agreements whatsoever; since
thereby the engagements of men's hearts become stronger
than the bond and obligation of words.

Of Their Military Discipline.

They detest war as a very brutal thing; and which,
to the reproach of human nature, is more practised by
men than by any sort of beasts. They, in opposition to
the sentiments of almost all other nations, think that there
is nothing more inglorious than that glory that is gained by

UTOPIA 207

war. And therefore though they accustom themselves
daily to military exercises and the discipline of war, in
which not only their men but their women likewise are
trained up, that in cases of necessity they may not be
quite useless; yet they do not rashly engage in war, un-
less it be either to defend themselves, or their friends,
from any unjust aggressors; or out of good nature or
in compassion assist an oppressed nation in shaking off
the yoke of tyranny. They indeed help their friends,
not only in defensive, but also in offensive wars; but
they never do that unless they have been consulted be-
fore the breach was made, and being satisfied with the
grounds on which they went, they had found that all
demands of reparation were rejected, so that a war was
unavoidable. This they think to be not only just, when
one neighbor makes an inroad on another, by public
order, and carry away the spoils; but when the merchants
of one ootmtry are oppressed in another, either under pre-
tense of some unjust laws or by the perverse wresting
of good ones. This they count a more just cause of war
than the other, because those injuries are done under
some color of laws. This was the only ground of that
war in which they engaged with the Nephelogetes
against the Aleopolitanes, a little before our time; for
the merchants of the former having, as they thought,
met with great injustice among the latter, which, whether
it was in itself right or wrong, drew on a terrible war, in
which many of their neighbors were engaged; and their
keenness in carrying it on being supported by their
strength in maintaining it, it not only shook some very
flourishing states, and very much afflicted others, but
after a series of much mischief ended in the entire con-
quest and slavery of the Aleopolitanes, who though be-
fore the war they were in all respects much superior to
the Nephelogetes, were yet subdued; but though the
Utopians had assisted them in the war, yet they pre-
tended to no share of the spoil.

But though they so vigorously assist their friends in
obtaining reparation for the injuries they have received
in affairs of this nature, yet if any such frauds were
committed against themselves, provided no violence was

2o8 UTOPIA

done to their persons, they would only on their being
refused satisfaction forbear trading with such a people.
This is not because they consider their neighbors more
than their own citizens; but since their neighbors trade
every one upon his own stock, fraud is a more sensible
injury to them than it is to the Utopians, among whom
the public in such a case only suffers. As they expect
nothing in return for the merchandises they export but
that in which they so much abound, and is of little tise
to them, the loss does not much affect them; they think
therefore it would be too severe to revenge a loss attended
with so little inconvenience either to their lives, or their
subsistence, with the death of many persons; but if any
of their people is either killed or wounded wrongfully,
whether it be done by public authority or only by private
men, as soon as they hear of it they send ambassadors,
and demand that the guilty persons may be delivered up
to them; and if that is denied, they declare war; but if
it be complied with, the offenders are condemned either
to death or slavery.

They would be both troubled and ashamed of a bloody
victory over their enemies, and think it would be as foolish
a purchase as to buy the most valuable goods at too high
a rate. And in no victory do they glory so much as in
that which is gained by dexterity and good conduct,
without bloodshed. In such cases they appoint public
triumphs, and erect trophies to the honor of those who
have succeeded; for then do they reckon that a man acts
suitably to his nature when he conquers his enemy in
such a way as that no other creature but a man could be
capable of, and that is by the strength of his under-
standing. Bears, lions, boars, wolves, and dogs, and all
other animals employ their bodily force one against an-
other in which as many of them are superior to men,
both in strength and fierceness, so they are all subdued
by his reason and understanding.

The only design of the Utopians in war is to obtain
that by force, which if it had been granted them in time
would have prevented the war; or if that cannot be done,
to take so severe a revenge on those that have injured
them that they may be terrified from doing the like for

UTOPIA 209

the time to come. 67 these ends they measure all their
designs, and manage them so that it is visible that the
appetite of fame or vainglory does not work so much
on them as a just care of their own security.

As soon as they declare war, they take care to have a
great many schedules, that are sealed with their common
seal, affixed in the most conspicuous places of their
enemies* coimtry. This is carried secretly, and done in
many places aU at once. In these they promise great
rewards to such as shall kill the prince, and lesser in pro-
portion to such as shall kill any other persons, who are
those on whom, next to the prince himself, they cast the
chief balance of the war. And they double the simi to
him that, instead of killing the person so marked out,
shall take him alive and put him in their hands. They
oflEer not only indemnity, but rewards, to such of the
persons themselves that are so marked, if they will act
against their countrymen ; by these means those that are
named in the schedules become not only distrustful of
their fellow-citizens, but are jealous of one another, and
are much distracted by fear and danger; for it has often
fallen out that many of them, and even the Prince
himself, have been betrayed by those in whom they have
trusted most: for the rewards that the Utopians offer are
so unmeasurably great, that there is no sort of crime to
which men cannot be drawn by them. They consider the
risk that those run who undertake such services, and
offer a recompense proportioned to the danger; not only
a vast deal of gold, but great revenues in lands, that lie
among other nations that are their friends, where they
may go and enjoy them very securely , and they observe
the promises they make of this kind most religiously.
They very much approve of this way of corrupting their
enemies, though it appears to others to be base and
cruel; but they look on it as a wise course, to make an
end of what would be otherwise a long war, without so
much as hazarding one battle to decide it. They think
it likewise an act of mercy and love to mankind to pre-
vent the great slaughter of those that must otherwise be
killed in the progress of the war, both on their own side
and on that of their enemies, by the death of a few that

aio UTOPIA

are most guilty; and that in so doing they are kind even
to their enemies, and pity them no less than their own
people, as knowing that the greater part of them do not
engage in the war of their own accord, but are driven
into it by the passions of their prince.

If this method does not succeed with them, then they
sow seeds of contention among their enemies, and animate
the prince's brother, or some of the nobility, to aspire to
the crown. If they cannot disunite them by domestic
broils, then they engage their neighbors against them,
and make them set on foot some old pretensions, which
are never wanting to princes when they have occasion
for them. These they plentifully supply with money,
though but very sparingly with any auxiliary troops: for
they are so tender of their own people, that they would
not willingly exchange one of them, even with the prince
of their enemies' country.

But as they keep their gold and silver only for such
an occasion, so when that offers itself they easily part
with it, since it would be no inconvenience to them
though they should reserve nothing of it to themselves.
For besides the wealth that they have among them at
home, they have a vast treasure abroad, many nations
round about them being deep in their debt; so that they
hire soldiers from all places for canying on their wars,
but chiefly from the Zapolets, who live five hundred miles
east of Utopia. They are a rude, wild, and fierce nation,
who delight in the woods and rocks, among which they
were bom and bred. They are hardened both against
heat, cold and labor, and know nothing of the delicacies
of life. They do not apply themselves to agriculture,
nor do they care either for their houses or their clothes.
Cattle is all that they look after; and for the greatest
part they live either by hunting, or upon rapine; and are
made, as it were, only for war. They watch all oppor-
tunities of engaging in it, and very readily embrace such
as are offered them. Great numbers of them will fre-
quently go out, and offer themselves for a very low pay,
to serve any that will employ them: they know none of
the arts of life, but those that lead to the taking it away;
they serve those that hire them, both with much courage

UTOPIA 311

and great fidelity, but will not engage to serve for any
determined time, and agree upon such terms, that the
next day they may go over to the enemies of those whom
they serve, if they offer them a greater encouragement;
and will perhaps return to them the day after that, upon
a higher advance of their pay. There are few wars in
which they make not a considerable part of the armies
of both sides: so it often falls out that they who are
related, and were hired in the same country, and so have
lived long and familiarly together, forgetting both their
relations and former friendship, kill one another upon
no other consideration than that of being hired to it for
a little money by princes of different interests; and such
a regard have they for money, that they are easily
wrought on by the difference of one penny a day to
change sides. So entirely does their avarice influence them;
and yet this money, which they value so highly, is of
little use to them; for what they purchase thus with their
blood, they quickly waste on luxury, which among them
is but of a poor and miserable form.

This nation serves the Utopians against all people
whatsoever, for they pay higher than any other. The
Utopians hold this for a maxim, that as they seek out
the best sort of men for their own use at home, so they
make use of this worst sort of men for the consumption
of war, and therefore they hire them with the offers of
vast rewards, to expose themselves to all sorts of haz-
ards, out of which the greater part never returns to
claim t}ieir promises. Yet they make them good most
religiously to such as escape. This animates them to
adventure again, whenever there is occasion for it; for
the Utopians are not at all troubled how many of these
happen to be killed, and reckon it a service done to
mankind if they could be a means to deliver the world
from such a lewd and vicious sort of people, that seem
to have run together as to the drain of human nature.
Next to these they are served in their wars with those
upon whose account they undertake them, and with the
auxiliary troops of their other friends, to whom they
join a few of their own people, and send some man of
eminent and approived virtue to command in chief.

212 UTOPIA

There are two sent with him, who during his command
are but private men, but the first is to succeed him if
he should happen to be either killed or taken; and in
case of the like misfortune to him, the third comes in
his place; and thus they provide against ill events, that
such accidents as may befall their generals may not
endanger their armies. When they draw out troops of
their own people, they take such out of every city as
freely offer themselves, for none are forced to go against
their wills, since they think that if any man is pressed
that wants courage, he will not only act faintly, but by
his cowardice dishearten others. But if an invasion is
made on their country they make use of such men, if
they have good bodies, though they are not brave; and
either put them aboard their ships or place them on the
walls of their towns, that being so posted they may find
no opportunity of flying away; and thus either shame,
the heat of action, or the impossibility of flying, bears
down their cowardice ; they often make a virtue of neces-
sity and behave themselves well, because nothing else is
left them. But as they force no man to go into anj
foreign war against his will, so they do not hinder those
women who are willing to go along with their husbands;
on the contrary, they encourage and praise them, and
they stand often next their husbands in the front of the
army. They also place together those who are related,
parents and children, kindred, and those that are mutually
allied, near one another; that those whom Nature has in-
spired with the greatest zeal for assisting one another, may
be the nearest and readiest to do it; and it is matter of
great reproach if husband or wife survive one another, or if
s» child survives his parents, and therefore when they
come to be engaged in action they continue to fight to
ihe last man, if their enemies stand before them. And
as they use all prudent methods to avoid the endanger-
ing their own men, and if it is possible let all the action
and danger fall upon the troops that they hire, so if it
becomes necessary for themselves to engage, they then
charge with as much courage as they avoided it before
with prudence: nor is it a fierce charge at first, but it
increases by degrees; and as they continue in action,

UTOPIA 213

they grow more obstinate and press Harder upon the
enemy, insomuch that they will much sooner die than
give ground; for the certainty that their children will be
well looked after when they are dead, frees them from
all that anxiety concerning them which often masters men
of great courage ; and thus they are animated by a noble
and invincible resolution. Their skill in military affairs
increases their courage; and the wise sentiments which,
according to the laws of their country are instilled into
them in their education, give additional vigor to their
minds: for as they do not undervalue life so as prodi-
gally to throw it away, they are not so indecently fond of
it as to preserve it by base and unbecoming methods.
In the greatest heat of action, the bravest of their youth,
who have devoted themselves to that service, single out
the general of their enemies, set on him either openly or
by ambuscade, pursue him everywhere, and when spent
and wearied out, are relieved by others, who never give
over the pursuit; either attacking him with close weap-
ons when they can get near him, or with those which
wound at a distance, when others get in between them;
so that unless he secures himself by flight, they seldom
fail at last to kill or to take him prisoner. When they
have obtained a victory, they kill as few as possible, and
are much more bent on taking many prisoners than on
killing those that fly before them; nor do they ever let
their men so loose in the pursuit of their enemies, as not to
retain an entire body still in order; so that if they have
been forced to engage the last of their battalions before
they could gain the day, they will rather let their enemies
all escape than pursue them, when their own army is in
disorder; remembering well what has often fallen out to
themselves, that when the main body of their army has
been quite defeated and broken, when their enemies im-
agining the victory obtained, have let themselves loose
into an irregular pursuit, a few of them that lay for a
reserve, waiting a fit opportunity, have fallen on them
in their chase, and when straggling in disorder and
apprehensive of no danger, but counting the day their
own, have turned the whole action, and wresting
out of their hands a victory that seemed certain and

214 UTOPIA

undoubted, while the vanquished have suddenly become
victorious.

It is hard to tell whether they are more dexterous in
laying or avoiding ambushes. They sometimes seem to
fly when it is far from their thoughts; and when they
intend to give ground, they do it so that it is very hard
to find out their design. If they see they are ill posted,
or are like to be overpowered by numbers, they then
either march off in the night with great silence, or by
some stratagem delude their enemies: if they retire in
the daytime, they do it in such order, that it is no less
dangerous to fall upon them in a retreat than in a march.
They fortify their camps with a deep and large trench,
and throw up the earth that is dug out of it for a wall;
nor do they employ only their slaves in this, but the
whole army works at it, except those that are then upon
the gfuard; so that when so many hands are at work, a
great line and a strong fortification is finished in so short
a time that it is scarce credible. Their armor is very
strong for defense, and yet is not so heavy as to
make them tmeasy in their marches; for they can even
swim with it. All that are trained up to war practice
swimming. Both horse and foot make great use of
arrows, and are very expert They have no swords, but
fight with a pole-axe that is both sharp and heavy, by
which they thrust or strike down an enemy. They are
very good at finding out warlike machines, and disguise
them so well, that the enemy does not perceive them
till he feels the use of them; so that he cannot prepare
such a defense as would render them useless; the chief
consideration had in the making them, is that they may
be easily carried and managed.

If they agree to a truce, they observe it so religiously
that no provocations will make them break it. They
never lay their enemies' country waste, nor bum their
com, and even in their marches they take all possible
care that neither horse nor foot may tread it down, for
they do not know but that they may have use for it
themselves. They hurt no man whom they find disarmed,
unless he is a spy. When a town is surrendered to them,
they take it into their protection : and when they carry a

UTOPIA 315

place by storm, they never plunder it, but put those only
to the sword that opposed the rendering of it up, and
make the rest of the garrison slaves, but for the other
inhabitants they do them no hurt; and if any of them
had advised a surrender, they give them good rewards
out of the estates of those that they condemn, and dis-
tribute the rest among their auxiliary troops, but they
themselves take no share of the spoil.

When a war is ended, they do not oblige their friends
to reimburse their expenses; but they obtain them of the
conquered, either in money, which they keep for the next
occasion, or in lands, out of which a constant revenue is
to be paid them; by many increases, the revenue which
they draw out from several countries on such occasions,
is now risen to above 700,000 ducats a year. They send
some of their own people to receive these revenues, who
have orders to live magnificently, and like princes, by
which means they consume much of it upon the place;
and either bring over the rest to Utopia, or lend it to
that nation in which it lies. This they most commonly
do, unless some great occasion, which falls out but
very seldom, should oblige them to call for it all. It
is out of these lands that they assign rewards to such
as they encotirage to adventure on desperate attempts.
If any prince that engages in war with them is making
preparations for invading their country, they prevent
him, and make his country the seat of the war; for
they do not willingly suffer any war to break in upon
their island; and if that should happen, they would only
defend themselves by their own people, and not call
for auxiliary troops to their assistance.

Of the Religions of the Utopians.

There are several sorts of religions, not only in differ-
ent parts of the island, but even in every town; some
worshiping the sun, others the moon, or one of the
planets: some worship such men as have been eminent in
former times for virtue, or glory, not only as ordinary
deities, but as the supreme God: yet the greater and
wiser sort of them worship none of these, but adore one

ai6 UTOPIA

eternal, invisible, infinite, and incomprehensible Deity;
as a being that is far above all our apprehensions, that
is spread over the whole universe, not by his bulk, but
by his power and virtue; him they call the Father of
All, and acknowledge that the beginnings, the increase,
the progress, the vicissitudes, and the end of all things
come only from him; nor do they offer divine honors to
any but to him alone. And indeed, though they differ
concerning other things, yet all agree in this, that they
think there is one Supreme Being that made and governs
the world, whom they call in the language of their
country Mithras. They differ in this, that one thinks
the God whom he worships is this Supreme Being, and
another thinks that his idol is that God; but they all
agree in one principle, that whoever is this Supreme
Being, he is also that great Essence to whose glory and
majesty all honors are ascribed by the consent of all
nationa

By degrees, they fall off from the various superstitions
that are among them, and grow up to that one religion
that is the best and most in request; and there is no
doubt to be made but that all the others had vanished
long ago, if some of those who advised them to lay aside
their superstitions had not met with some unhappy acci-
dent, which being considered as inflicted by heaven, made
them afraid that the God whose worship had like to have
been abandoned, had interposed, and revenged themselves
on those who despised their authority.

After they had heard from us an account of the doc-
trine, the course of life, and the miracles of Christ, and
of the wonderful constancy of so many martyrs, whose
blood so willingly offered up by them, was the chief occa-
sion of spreading their religion over a vast number of
nations; it is not to be imagined how inclined they were
to receive it. I shall not determine whether this pro-
ceeded from any secret inspiration of God, or whether it
was because it seemed so favorable to that community
of goods, which is an opinion so particular as well as so
dear to them; since they perceived that Christ and his
followers lived by that rule, and that it was still kept up in
some communities among the sincerest sort of Christians.

UTOPIA 217

Prom whichsoever of these motives it might be, true it is
that many of them came over to our religion, and were
initiated into it by baptism. But as two of our number
were dead, so none of the four that survived were in
priests' orders; we therefore could only baptize them; so
that to our great regret they could not partake of the
other sacraments that can only be administered by priests;
but they are instructed concerning them, and long most
vehemently for them. They have had great disputes
among themselves, whether one chosen by them to be a
priest would not thereby be qualified to do all the things
that belong to that character, even though he had no
authority derived from the Pope ; and they seemed to be
resolved to choose some for that employment, but they
had not done it when I left them.

Those among them that have not received our religion,
do not fright any from it, and use none ill that goes
over to it; so that all the while I was there, one man
only was punished on this occasion. He being newly
baptized, did, notwithstanding all that we could say to
the contrary, dispute publicly concerning the Christian
religion with more zeal than discretion; and with so much
heat, that he not only preferred our worship to theirs,
but condemned all their rites as profane; and cried out
against all that adhered to them, as impious and sacri-
legious persons, that were to be damned to everlasting
burnings. Upon his having frequently preached in this
manner, he was seized, and after trial he was condemned
to banishment, not for having disparaged their religion,
but for his inflaming the x>eople to sedition: for this is
one of their most ancient laws, that no man ought to be
pimished for his religion. At the first constitution of
their government, Utopus having understood that before
his coming among them the old inhabitants had been
engaged in great quarrels concerning religion, by which
they were so divided among themselves, that he found it
an easy thing to conquer them, since instead of uniting
their forces against him, every diflferent party in religion
fought by themselves; after he had subdued them, he
made a law that every man might be of what religion
he pleased, and might endeavor to draw others to it by

2i8 UTOPIA

the force of argmnent, and by amicable and modest ways,
but without bitterness against those of other opinions;
but that he ought to use no other force but that of
persuasion, and was neither to mix with it reproaches
nor violence ; and such as did otherwise were to be con-
demned to banishment or slavery.

This law was made by Utopus, not only for preserv-
ing the public x>eace, which he saw suffered much by
daily contentions and irreconcilable heats, but because
he thought the interest of religion itself required it. He
judged it not fit to determine anything rashly, and
seemed to doubt whether those different forms of reli-
gion might not all come from God, who might inspire
men in a different manner, and be pleased with this va*
riety; he therefore thought it indecent and foolish for
any man to threaten and terrify another to make him
believe what did not appear to him to be true. And
supposing that only one religion was really true, and the
rest false, he imagined that the native force of truth
would at last break forth and shine bright, if supported
only by the strength of argument, and attended to with
a gentle and unprejudiced mind; while on the other
hand, if such debates were carried on with violence and
ttunults, as the most wicked are always the most obsti-
nate, so the best and most holy religion might be choked
with superstition, as com is with briars and thorns; he
therefore left men wholly to their liberty, that they
might be free to believe as they should see cause; only
he made a solemn and severe law against such as should
so far degenerate from the dignity of human nature as
to think that our souls died with our bodies, or that the
world was governed by chance, without a wise overruling
Providence: for they all formerly believed that there was
a state of rewards and punishments to the good and bad
after this life; and they now look on those that think
otherwise as scarce fit to be counted men, since they de-
grade so noble a being as the soul, and reckon it no bet-
ter than a beast's: thus they are far from looking on
such men as fit for htunan society, or to be citizens of
a well-ordered commonwealth; since a man of such
principles must needs, as often as he dares do it.

UTOPIA 219

despise all their laws and customs : for there is no doubt
to be made that a man who is afraid of nothing but
the laWy and apprehends nothing after death, will not
scruple to breaJc through all the laws of his country,
either by fraud or force, when by this means he may sat-
isfy his appetites. They never raise any that hold these
maxims, either to honors or offices, nor employ them in
any public trust, but despise them, as men of base and
sordid minds; yet they do not punish them, because they
lay this down as a maxim that a man cannot make him*
self believe anything he pleases; nor do they drive
any to dissemble their thoughts by threatenings, so
that men are not tempted to lie or disguise their
opinions; which being a sort of fraud, is abhorred
by the Utopians. They take care indeed to prevent their
disputing in defense of these opinions, especially before the
common people ; but they suffer, and even encourage them
to dispute concerning them in private with their priests and
other grave men, being confident that they will be cured
of those mad opinions by having reason laid before them.
There are many among them that run far to the other
extreme, though it is neither thought an ill nor unreasonable
opinion, and therefore is not at all discouraged. They
think that the souls of beasts are immortal; though far
inferior to the dignity of the human soul, and not capa-
ble of so great a happiness. They are almost all of them
very firmly persuaded that good men will be infinitely
happy in another state; so that though they are compas-
sionate to all that are sick, yet they lament no man's
death, except they see him loath to depart with life; for
they look on this as a very ill presage, as if the soul,
conscious to itself of guilt, and quite hopeless, was afraid
to leave the body, from some Secret hints of approach-
ing misery. They think that such a man's appearance
before God cannot be acceptable to him, who being called
on does not go out cheerf idly but is backward and unwill-
ing, and is, as it were, dragged to it. They are struck
with horror when they see any die in this manner, and
carry them out in silence and with sorrow, and praying
God that he would be merciful to the errors of the de-
parted soul, they lay the body in the ground; but when

3ao UTOPIA

any die cheerfully, and full of hope, they do not mourn
for them, but sing hymns when they carry out their
bodies, and commending their souls very earnestly to
God: their whole behavior is then rather grave than sad,
they bum the body, and set up a pillar where the pile
was made, with an inscription to the honor of the de-
ceased. When they come from the funeral, they discourse
of his good life and worthy actions, but spea^ of noth-
ing oftener and with more pleasure than of his serenity
at the hour of death. They think such respect paid to
the memory of good men is both the greatest incitement
to engage others to follow their example, and the most
acceptable worship than can be offered them ; for they
believe that though by the imperfection of human sight
they are invisible to us, yet they are present among us,
and hear those discourses that pass concerning them-
selves. They believe it inconsistent with the happiness
of departed souls not to be at liberty to be where they
will, and do not imagine them capable of the ingrati-
tude of not desiring to see those friends with whom they
lived on earth in the strictest bonds of love and kind-
ness: besides they are persuaded that good men after
death have these affections and all other good disposi-
tions increased rather than diminished, and therefore
conclude that they are still among the living, and observe
all they say or do. From hence they engage in all theii
affairs with the greater confidence of success, as trusting
to their protection; while this opinion of the presence of
their ancestors is a restraint that prevents their engage
ing in ill designs.

They despise and laugh at auguries, and the othei
vain and superstitious ways of divination, so much ob-
served among other nations; but have great reverence
for such miracles as cannot flow from any of the powers
of Nature, and look on them as effects and indications
of the presence of the supreme Being, of which they
say many instances have occurred among them; and that
sometimes their public prayers, which upon great and
dangerous occasions they have solemnly put up to God,
with assured confidence of being heard, have been
answered in a miraculous manner.

UTOPIA 231

They think the contemplating God in his works, and
the adoring him for them, is a very acceptable piece of
worship to him.

There are many among them, that upon a motive of
religion neglect learning, and apply themselves to no
sort of study; nor do they allow themselves any leisure
time, but are perpetually employed, believing that by
the good things that a man does he secures to himself
that happiness that comes after death. Some of these
visit the sick; others mend highways, cleanse ditches,
repair bridges, or dig turf, gravel or stones. Others fell
and cleave timber, and bring wood, com, and other
necessaries on carts into their towns. Nor do these only
serve the public, but they serve even private men, more
than the slaves themselves do; for if there is anywhere
a rough, hard, and sordid piece of work to be done,
from which many are frightened by the labor and loath-
someness of it, if not the despair of accomplishing it,
they cheerfully, and of their own accord, take that to
their share; and by that means, as they ease others very
much, so they af&ict themselves, and spend their whole
life in hard labor; and yet they do not value themselves
upon this, nor lessen otiber people's credit to raise their
own; but by their stooping to such servile employments,
they are so far from being despised, that they are so
much the more esteemed by the whole nation.

Of these there are two sorts; some live unmarried and
chaste, and abstain from eating any sort of flesh; and
thus weaning themselves from all the pleasures of the
present life, which they accotmt hurtful, they pursue,
even by the hardest and most painful methods possible,
that blessedness which they hope for hereafter; and the
nearer they approach to it, they are the more cheerful
and earnest in their endeavors after it. Another sort of
them is less willing to put themselves to much toil, and
therefore prefer a married state to a single one, and as
they do not deny themselves the pleasure of it, so they
think the begetting of children is a debt which they owe
to human nature and to their country; nor do they avoid
any pleasure that does not hinder labor, and therefore
eat flesh so much the more willingly, as they find that

233 UTOPIA

by this means they are the more able to work; the
Utopians look upon these as the wiser sect, but they
esteem the others as the most holy. They would indeed
laugh at any man, who from the principles of reason
would prefer an unmarried state to a married, or a life
of labor to an easy life; but they reverence and admire
such as do it from the motives of religion. There is
nothing in which they are more cautious than in giving
their opinion positively concerning any sort of religion.
The men that lead those severe lives are called in the
language of their country Brutheskas, which answers to
those we call religious orders.

Their priests are men of eminent piety, and therefore
they are but few, for there are only thirteen in every
town, one for every temple; but when they go to war,
seven of these go out with their forces, and seven others
are chosen to supply their room in their absence; but
these enter again upon their emplojrment when they
return; and those who served in their absence attend
upon the high priest, till vacancies fall by death; for
there is one set over all the rest. They are chosen by
the people as the other magistrates are, by sufiErages
given in secret, for preventing of factions; and when
they are chosen they are consecrated by the college of
priests. The care of all sacred things, the worship of
God, and an inspection into the manners of the people,
are committed to them. It is a reproach to a man to be
sent for by any of them, or for them to speak to him in
secret, for that always gives some suspicion. All that is
incumbent on them is only to exhort and admonish the
people; for the power of correcting and punishing ill
men belongs wholly to the Prince and to the other mag-
istrates. The severest thing that the priest does, is the
excluding those that are desperately wicked from joining
in their worship. There is not any sort of punishment
more dreaded by them than this, for as it loads them
with infamy, so it fills them with secret horrors, such is
their reverence to their religion ; nor will their bodies be
long exempted from their share of trouble; for if they
do not very quickly satisfy the priests of the truth of
theii repentance, they are seized on by the Senate^ and

UTOPIA 223

punished for their impiety. The education of youth
belongs to the priests, yet they do not take so much care
of instructing them in letters as in forming their minds
and manners aright; they use all possible methods to
infuse very early into the tender and flexible minds of
children such opinions as are both good in themselves
and will be useful to their country. For when deep im-
pressions of these things are made at that age, they
follow men through the whole course of their lives, and
conduce much to preserve the peace of the government,
which sufiEers by nothing more than by vices that rise
out of ill opinions. The wives of their priests are the
most extraordinary women of the whole country; some-
times the women themselves are made priests, though
that falls out but seldom, nor are any but ancient widows
chosen into that order.

None of the magistrates have greater honor paid them
than is paid the priests; and if they should happen to
commit any crime, they would not be questioned for it
Their punishment is left to God, and to their own con*
sciences; for they do not think it lawful to lay hands on
any man, how wicked soever he is, that has been in a
peculiar manner dedicated to God; nor do they find any
great inconvenience in this, both because they have so
few priests, and because they are chosen with much
caution, so that it must be a very unusual thing to find
one who merely out of regard to his virtue, and for his
being esteemed a singularly good man, was raised up to
so great a dignity, degenerate into corruption and vice.
And if such a thing should fall out, for man is a change-
able creature, yet there being few priests, and these hav-
ing no authority but what rises out of the respect that
is paid them, nothing of great consequence to the
public can proceed from the indemnity that the priests
enjoy.

They have indeed, very few of them, lest greater num-
bers sharing in the same honor might make the dignity
of that order which they esteem so highly to sink in its
reputation. They also think it difficult to find out many
of such an exalted pitch of goodness, as to be equal to
that dignity which demands the exercise of more than

224 UTOPIA

ordinary virtues. Nor are the priests in greater venera-
tion among them than they are among their neighbor-
ing nations, as you may imagine by that which I think
gfives occasion for it.

When the Utopians engage in battle, the priests who
accompany them to the war, appareled in tiieir sacred
vestments, kneel down during the action, in a place not
far from the field, and lifting up their hands to heaven,
pray, first for peace, and then for victory to their own
side, and particularly that it may be gained without the
effusion of much blood on either side; and when the vic-
tory turns to their side, they run in among their own
men to restrain their fury; and if any of their enemies
see them, or call to them, they are preserved by that
means; and such as can come so near them as to touch
their garments, have not only their lives but their for-
tunes secured to them; it is upon this account that all
the nations round about consider them so much, and
treat them with such reverence, that they have been often
no less able to preserve their own people from the fury
ftf their enemies, than to save their enemies from their
rage; for it has sometimes fallen out, that when their
armies have been in disorder, and forced to fly, so that
their enemies were running upon the slaughter and spoil,
the priests, by interposing have separated them from one
another, and stopped the effusion of more blood; so that
by their mediation a peace has been concluded on very
reasonable terms ; nor is there any nation about them sa
fierce, cruel, or barbarous as not to look upon their per-
sons as sacred and inviolable.

The first and the last day of the month, and of the
year, is a festival. They measure their months by the
course of the moon, and their years by the course of
the sun. The first dajrs are called in their language the
Cynememes, and the last the Trapememes; which answers
in our language to the festival that begins, or ends the
season.

They have magnificent temples, that are not only nobly
built, but extremely spacious; which is the more neces-
sary, as they have so few of them ; they are a little dark
within, which proceeds not from any error in the archi-

UTOPIA 225

lecture, but is done with design; for their priests think
that too much light dissipates the thoughts, and that a
more moderate degree of it both recollects the mind and
raises devotion. Though there are many different forms
of religion among them, yet all these, how various soever,
agree in the main point, which is the worshiping the
Divine Essence ; and therefore there is nothing to be seen
or heard in their temples in which the several persuasions
among them may not agree, for every sect performs those
rites that are peculiar to it, in their private houses; nor
is there anything in the . public worship that contradicts
the particular ways of those different sects. There are
no images for Grod in their temples, so that every one
may represent him to his thoughts, according to the way
of his religion; nor do they call this one God by any
other name but that of Mithras, which is the common
name by which they all express the Divine Essence,
whatsoever otherwise they think it to be; nor are there
any prayers among them but such as every one of them
may use without prejudice to his own opinion.

They meet in their temples on the evening of the
festival that concludes a season: and not having yet
broke their fast, they thank God for their good success
during that year or month, which is then at an end, and
the next day being that which begins the new season,
they meet early in their temples, to pray for the happy
progress of all their affairs during that period upon
which they then enter. In the festival which concludes
the period, before they go to the temple, both wives and
children fall on their knees before their husbands or
parents, and confess everything in which they have
either erred or failed in their duty, and beg pardon for
it. Thus all little discontents in families are removed,
that they may offer up their devotions with a pure and
serene mind; for they hold it a great impiety to enter
upon them with disturbed thoughts, or with a conscious-
ness of their bearing hatred or anger in their hearts to
any person whatsoever; and think that they should be-
come liable to severe punishments if they presume to
Dffer sacrifices without cleansing their hearts, and recon-
ciling all their differences. In the temples, the two

326 UTOPIA

sexes are separated, the men go to the right hand, and
the women to the left; and the males and females all
place themselves before the head and master or mistress
of that family to which they belong; so that those who
have the government of them at home may see their
deportment in public; and they intermingle them so, that
the younger and the older may be set by one another;
for if the younger sort were all set together, they would
perhaps trifle away that time too much in which they
ought to beget in themselves that religious dread of the
Supreme Being, which is the greatest and almost the
only incitement to virtue.

They offer up no living creature in sacrifice, nor do
they tiiink it suitable to the Divine Being, from whose
bounty it is that these creatures have derived their lives,
to take pleasure in their deaths, or the offering up their
blood. They bum incense and other sweet odors, and
have a great number of wax lights during their worship;
not out of any imagination that such oblations can add
anything to the divine Nature, which even prajrers cannot
do; but as it is a harmless and pure way of worshiping
God, so they think those sweet savors and lights, togethet
with some other ceremonies, by a secret and unaccount-
able virtue, elevate men's souls, and inflame them with
greater energy and cheerfulness during the divine worship.

All the people appear in the temples in white garments,
but the priest's vestments are parti-colored, and both the
work and colors are wonderful. They are made of no
rich materials, for they are neither embroidered nor set
with precious stones, but are composed of the plumes of
several birds, laid together with so much art and so
neatly, that the true value of them is far beyond the
costliest materials. They say that in the ordering and
placing those plumes some dark mysteries are represented,
which pass down among their priests in a secret tradi-
tion concerning them; and that they are as hieroglyphics,
putting them in mind of the blessings that they have
received from God, and of their duties both to him and
to their neighbors. As soon as the priest appears in
those ornaments, they all fall prostrate on the ground,
with so much reverence and so deep a silence that such

UTOPIA 227

as look on cannot but be struck with it, as if it were the
eflEect of the appearance of a Deity. After they have
been for some time in this posture, they all stand up,
upon a sign given by the priest, and sing hymns to the
honor of God, some musical instruments playing all the
while. These are quite of another form than those used
among* us: but as many of them are much sweeter than
ours, so others are made use of by us. Yet in one thing
they very much exceed us; all their music, both vocal
and instrumental, is adapted to imitate and express the
passions, and is so happily suited to every occasion, that
whether the subject of the hymn be cheerful or formed to
Boothe or trouble the mind, or to express grief or re-
morse, the music takes the impression of whatever is
represented, a£Fects and kindles the passions, and works
the sentiments deep into the hearts of the hearers.
When this is done, both priests and people offer up very
Golemn prayers to God in a set form of words; and these
are so composed, that whatsoever is pronotmced by the
whole assembly may be likewise applied by every man
in particular to his own condition : in these they acknowl-
edge God to be the author and governor of the world,
and the fountain of all the good they receive, and
therefore offer up to him their thanksgiving; and in
particular bless him for his goodness in ordering
it so, that they are bom under the happiest government
in the world, and are of a religion which they hope is
the truest of all others: but if they are mistaken, and if
there is either a better government or a religion more
acceptable to God, they implore his goodness to let them
know it, vowing that they resolve to follow him whith-
ersoever he leads them. But if their government is the
best, and their religion the truest, then they pray that
he may fortify them in it, and bring all the world both
to the same rules of life, and to the same opinions con-
cerning himself; unless, according to the unsearchable-
ness of his mind, he is pleased with a variety of
religions. Then they pray that God may give them an
easy passage at last to himself; not presuming to set
limits to him, how early or late it should be; but if it
may be wished for, without derogating from his supreme

228 UTOPIA

authority, they desire to be quickly delivered, and to be
taken to himself, though by the most terrible kind of
death, rather than to be detained long from seeing him
by the most prosperous course of life. When this prayer
is ended, they all fall down again upon the ground, and
after a little while they rise up, go home to dinner, and
spend the rest of the day in diversion or military exercises.
Thus have I described to you, as particularly as I could,
the constitution of that commonwealth, which I do not
only think the best in the world, but indeed the only
commonwealth that truly deserves that name. In all
other places it is visible, that while people talk of a
commonwealth, every man only seeks his own wealth;
but there, where no man has any property, all men zeal-
ously pursue the good of the public ; and, indeed, it is no
wonder to see men act so differently; for in other com-
monwealths, every man knows that unless he provides for
himself, how flourishing soever the commonwealth may
be, he must die of hunger; so that he sees the necessity
of preferring his own concerns to the public; but in
Utopia, where every man has a right to everything, they
all know that if care is taken to keep the public stores
full, no private man can want anything; for among them
there is no unequal distribution, so that no man is poor,
none in necessity; and though no man has anything, yet
they are all rich ; for what can make a man so rich as to
lead a serene and cheerful life, free from anxieties;
neither apprehending want himself, nor vexed with the
endless complaints of his wife ? He is not afraid of the
misery of his children, nor is he contriving how to raise
a portion for his daughters, but is secure in this, that
both he and his wife, his children and grandchildren, to
as many generations as he can fancy, will all live both
plentifully and happily; since among them there is no less
care taken of those who were once engaged in labor, but
grow afterward unable to follow it, than there is else-
where of these that continue still employed. I would
gladly hear any man compare the justice that is among
them with that of all other nations ; among whom, may I
perish, if I see anything that looks either like justice or
equity: for what justice is there in this, that a nobleman.

UTOPIA 229

a goldsmith, a banker, or any other man, that either does
nothing at all, or at best is employed in things that are
of no use to the public, should live in great luxury and
splendor, upon what is so ill acquired; and a mean man,
a carter, a smith, or a plowman, that works harder even
than the beasts themselves, and is employed in labors so
necessary, that no commonwealth could hold out a year
without them, can only earn so poor a livelihood, and
must lead so miserable a life, that the condition of the
beasts is much better than theirs ? For as the beasts do
not work so constantly, so they feed almost as well, and
with more pleasure; and have no anxiety about what is
to come, whilst these men are depressed by a barren and
fruitless employment, and tormented with the apprehen-
sions of want in their old age ; since that which they get
by their daily labor does but maintain them at present,
and is consumed as fast as it comes in, there is no over-
plus left to lay up for old age.

Is not that government both unjust and ungrateful, that
is so prodigal of its favors to those that are called gentle-
men, or goldsmiths, or such others who are idle, or live
either by flattery or by contriving the arts of vain pleasure ;
and on the other hand, takes no care of those of a meaner
sort, such as plowmen, colliers, and smiths, without
whom it could not subsist? But after the public has
reaped all the advantage of their service, and they come
to be oppressed with age, sickness, and want, all their
labors and the good they have done is forgotten, and all
the recompense given them is that they are left to die in
great misery. The richer sort are often endeavoring to
bring the hire of laborers lower, not only by their fraudu-
lent practices, but by the laws which they procure to be
made to that effect; so that though it is a thing most un-
just in itself, to give such small rewards to those who
deserve so well of the public, yet they have given those
hardships the name and color of justice, by procuring laws
to be made for regulating them.

Therefore I must say that, as I hope for mercy, I can
have no other notion of all the other governments that I
see or know, than that they are a conspiracy of the rich,
who on pretense of managing the public only pursue

ajo UTOPIA

their private ends, and devise all the ways and arts they
can find out; first, that they may, without danger, preserve
all that they have so ill acquired, and then that they may
engage the poor to toil and labor for them at as low rates
as possible, and oppress them as much as they please.
And if they can but prevail to get these contrivances es-
tablished by the show of public authority, which is consid-
ered as the representative of the whole people, then they
are accounted laws. Yet these wicked men after they
have, by a most insatiable covetousness, divided that
among themselves with which all the rest might have been
well supplied, are far from that happiness that is enjoyed
among the Utopians: for the use as well as the desire of
money being extinguished, much anxiety and great occa-
sions of mischief are cut off with them And who does not
see that the frauds, thefts, robberies, quarrels, tumults, con-
tentions, seditions, murders, treacheries, and witchcrafts,
which are indeed rather punished than restrained by the
severities of law, would all fall off, if money were not any
more valued by the world ? Men's fears, solicitudes, cares,
labors, and watchings would all perish in the same mo-
ment with the value of money: even poverty itself, for the
relief of which money seems most necessary, would fall.
But, in order to the apprehending this aright, take one
instance.

Consider any year that has been so tmfruitful that
many thousands have died of hunger; and yet if at the
end of that year a survey was made of the granaries of
all the rich men that have horded up the com, it would
be found that there was enough among them to have pre-
vented all that consumption of men that perished in mis-
ery; and that if it had been distributed among them,
none would have felt the terrible effects of that scar-
city; so easy a thing would it be to supply all the neces-
sities of life, if that blessed thing called money, which
is pretended to be invented for procuring them, was
not really the only thing that obstructed their being pro-
cured!

I do not doubt that rich men are sensible of this, and
that they well know how much a greater happiness it is
to want nothing necessary than to abound in many super-

UTOPIA 331

flttities, and to be tescned out of so much misery than to
abound with so much wealth ; and I cannot think but the
sense of every man's interest, added to the authority of
Christ's commands, who as he was infinitely wise, knew
what was best, and was not less good in discovering it to
us, would have drawn all the world over to the laws of
the Utopians, if pride, that plague of human nature, that
source of so much misery, did not hinder it; for this vice
does not measure happiness so much by its own conven-
iences as by the miseries of others; and would not be
satisfied with being thought a goddess, if none were left
that were miserable, over whom she might exult Pride
thinks its own happiness shines the brighter by compar-
ing it with the misfortunes of other persons; that by dis-
playing its own wealth, they may feel their poverty the
more sensibly. This is that infernal serpent that creeps
into the breasts of mortals, and possesses them too much
to be easily drawn out; and therefore I am glad that the
Utopians have fallen upon this form of government, in
which I wish that all the world could be so wise as to
imitate them; for they have indeed laid down such a
scheme and foundation of policy, that as men live happily
under it, so it is like to be of great continuance; for they
having rooted out of the minds of their people all the seeds
both of ambition and faction, there is no danger of any
commotion at home; which alone has been the ruin of
many states, that seemed otherwise to be well secured;
but as long as they live in peace at home, and are gov-
erned by such good laws, the envy of all their neighbor-
ing princes, who have often though in vain attempted
their ruin, will never be able to put their state into any
commotion or disorder.

When Raphael had thus made an end of speaking,
though many things occurred to me, both concerning the
manners and laws of that people, that seemed very ab-
surd, as well as their way of making war, as in their
notions of religion and divine matters; together with sev-
eral other particulars, but chiefly what seemed the foun-
dation of all the rest, their living in common, without
the use of money, by which all nobility, magnificence,

S33 UTOPIA

splendor, and majesty, which, according to the common
opinion, are the true ornaments of a nation, would be
quite taken away; yet since I perceived that Raphael
was weary, and was not sure whether he could easily
bear contradiction, remembering that he had taken notice
of some who seemed to think they were bound in honor
to support the credit of their own wisdom, by finding
out something to censure in all other men's inventions,
besides their own; I only commended their constitution,
and the account he had given of it in general; and so
taking him by the hand, carried him to supper, and told
him I would find out some other time for examining this
subject more particularly, and for discoursing more co-
piously upon it; and indeed I shall be glad to embrace
an opportunity of doing it. In the meanwhile, though
it must be confessed that he is both a very learned man,
and a person who has obtained a great knowledge of the
world, I cannot perfectly agree to everjrthing he has re-
lated; however, there are many things in the Common-
wealth of Utopia that I rather wish, than hope, to see
followed in our governments.

BACON'S

NEW ATLANTIS.

i«33i

K)iA>C:«-A. . /-.^

NEW ATLANTIS.

Wk sailed from Peru, where we had continued by the
space of one whole year, for China and Japan, by the
South Sea, taking with us victuals for twelve months; and
had good winds from the east, though soft and weak, for
five months' space and more. But then the wind came
about, and settled in the west for many days, so as we
could make little or no way, and were sometimes in pur-
pose to turn back. But then again there arose strong and
great winds from the south, with a point east; which
carried us up, for all that we could do, toward the north:
by which time our victuals failed us, though we had made
good spare of them. So that finding ourselves, in the
midst of the greatest wilderness of waters in the world,
without victual, we gave ourselves up for lost men, and
prepared for death. Yet we did lift up our hearts
and voices to God above, who showeth his wonders
in the deep; beseeching him of his mercy, that as in the
beginning he discovered the face of the deep, and brought
forth dry land, so he would now discover land to us, that
we might not perish. And it came to pass, that the next
day about evening we saw within a kenning before us,
toward the north, as it were, thick clouds which did put
us in some hope of land: knowing how that part of the
South Sea was utterly unknown; and might have islands
or continents, that hitherto were not come to light
Wherefore we bent our course thither, where we saw the
appearance of land, all that night; and in the dawning of
next day, we might plainly discern that it was a land flat
to our sight, and full of boscage, which made it show the
more dark. And after an hour and a half's sailing we
entered into a good haven, being the port of a fair city.
Not great indeed, but well built, and that gave a pleasant
view from the sea. And we thinking every minute long

(a35)

a36 NEW ATLANTIS

till we were on land, came close to the shore and offered
to land. But straightway we saw divers of the people, with
bastons in their hands, as it were, forbidding us to land:
yet without any cries or fierceness, but only as warning us
off, by signs that they made. Whereupon being not a
little discomfited, we were advising ¥dth ourselves what
we should do. During which time there made forth to
us a small boat, with about eight persons in it, whereof
one of them had in his hand a tipstaff of a yellow cane,
tipped at both ends with blue, who made aboard our ship,
wiUiout any show of distrust at all. And when he saw
one of our number present himself somewhat afore the
rest, he drew forth a little scroll of parchment (somewhat
yellower than our parchment, and shining like the leaves
of writing tables, but otherwise soft and flexible), and
delivered it to our foremost man. In which scroll were
written in ancient Hebrew, and in ancient Greek, and in
good Latin of the school, and in Spanish these words:
• Land ye not, none of you, and provide to be gone from
this coast within sixteen days, except you have further
time given you; meanwhile, if you want fresh water, or
victual, or help for your sick, or that your ship needeth
repair, write down your wants, and you shall have that
which belongeth to mercy. • This scroll was signed with
a stamp of cherubim's wings, not spread, but hanging
downward, and by them a cross. This being delivered,
the officer returned, and left only a servant with us to
receive our answer. Consulting hereupon among our-
selves, we were much perplexed. The denial of landing,
and hasty warning us away, troubled us much: on the
other side, to find that the people had languages, and
were so full of humanity, did comfort us not a little. And
above all, the sign of the cross to that instrument, was
to us a great rejoicing, and as it were a certain presage
of good. Our answer was in the Spanish tongue, •That
for our ship, it was well ; for we had rather met with calms
and contrary winds, than any tempests. For our sick,
they were many, and in very ill case; so that if they were
not permitted to land, they ran in danger of their lives.*
Our other wants we set down in particular, adding, • That
we had some little store of merchandise, which if it

NEW ATLANTIS 237

pleased them to deal for, it might supply our wants, with-
out being chargeable unto them.'^ We offered some re-
ward in pistolets unto the servant, and a piece of crimson
velvet to be presented to the officer; but the servant took
them not, nor would scarce look upon them; and so left
us, and went back in another little boat which was sent
for him.

About three hours after we had dispatched our answer
there came toward us a person (as it seemed) of a place.
He had on him a gown with wide sleeves, of a kind of
water chamolet, of an excellent azure color, far more
glossy than ours: his under apparel was green, and so
was his hat, being in the form of a turban, daintily made,
and not so huge as the Turkish turbans; and the locks
of his hair came down below the brims of it A rever-
end man was he to behold. He came in a boat, gilt in
some part of it, with four persons more only in that
boat; and was followed by another boat, wherein were
some twenty. When he was come within a flight-shot of
our ship, signs were made to us that we should send
forth some to meet him upon the water, which we pres-
ently did in our ship-boat, sending the principal man
among us save one, and four of our number with him.
When we were come within six yards of their boat, they
called to us to stay, and not to approach further, which
we did. And thereupon the man, whom I before de-
scribed, stood up, and with a loud voice in Spanish,
asked, • Are ye Christians ? • We answered, • We were ; •
fearing the less, because of the cross we had seen in the
subscription. At which answer the said person lift up
his right hand toward heaven, and drew it softly to his
mouth (which is the gesture they use, when they thank
God), and then said: •^If ye will swear, all of you, by the
merits of the Savior, that ye are no pirates; nor have
shed blood, lawfully nor unlawfully, within forty days
past; you may have license to come on land.^ We said,
•We were all ready to take that oath.* Whereupon one
of those that* were with him, being (as it seemed) a
notary, made an entry of this act. Which done, another
of the attendants of the great person, which was with
him in the same boat, after his lord had spoken a little

238 NEW ATLANTIS

to him, said aloud: ^My lord would have you know, that
it is not of pride, or greatness, that he cometh not aboard
your ship: but for that, in your answer, you declare that
you have many sick among you, he was warned by the
conservator of health of the city that he should keep a
distance.'^ We bowed ourselves toward him, and an-
swered: *We were his humble servants; and accounted
for great honor and singular humanity toward us, that
which was already done: but hoped well, that the nature
of the sickness of our men was not infectious.* So he
returned; and a while after came the notary to us aboard
our ship; holding in his hand a fruit of that cotmtry,
like an orange, but of color between orange-tawny and
scarlet: which cast a most excellent odor. He used it
(as it seemed) for a preservative against infection. He
gave us our oath, ^By the name of Jesus, and his
merits:* and after told us, that the next day by six of
the clock in the morning, we should be sent to, and
brought to the strangers' house (so he called it), where
we should be accommodated of things, both for our whole
and for our sick. So he left us; and when we oflEered
him some pistolets, he smiling, said, *He must not be
twice paid for one labor:* meaning (as I take it) that
he had salary sufficient of the state for his service. For
(as I after learned) they call an officer that taketh rewards
twice paid.

The next morning early, there came to us the same
officer that came to us at first with his cane, and told us:
*He came to conduct us to the strangers' house: and
that he had prevented the hour, because we might have
the whole day before us for our business. For (said he)
if you will follow my advice, there shall first go with me
some few of you, and see the place, and how it may be
made convenient for you: and then you may send for
your sick and the rest of your number, which ye wiU
bring on land.* We thanked him, and said, •That his
care which he took of desolate strangers, God would
reward.* And so six of us went on land with him; and
when we were on land, he went before us, and turned
to us and said, ^ He was but our servant and our guide. *
He led us through three fair streets; and all the

NEW ATLANTIS 239

way we went there were gathered some people on both
sides, standing in a row; but in so civil a fashion, as if
it had been, not to wonder at us, but to welcome us; and
divers of them, as we passed by them, put th^ir arms
a little abroad, which is their gesture when they bid any
welcome. The strangers' house is a fair and spacious
house, built of brick, of somewhat a bluer color than our
brick; and with handsome windows, some of glass, some
of a kind of cambric oiled. He brought us first into
a fair parlor above stairs, and then asked us, •What
number of persons we were ? and how many sick ? •
We answered, • We were in all (sick and whole) one and
fifty persons, whereof our sick were seventeen.* He de-
sired us to have patience a little, and to stay till he came
back to us which was about an hour after; and then he
led us to see the chambers which were provided for us,
being in number nineteen. They having cast it (as it
seemeth) that four of those chambers, which were better
than the rest, might receive four of the principal men of
our company; and lodge them alone by themselves; and
the other fifteen chambers were to lodge us, two and two
together. The chambers were handsome and cheerful
chambers, and furnished civilly. Then he led us to a
long gallery like a dorture, where he showed us all along
the one side (for the other side was but wall and vdndow)
seventeen cells, very neat ones, having partitions of cedar
wood. Which gallery and cells, being in all forty (many
more than we needed), were instituted as an infirmary
for sick persons. And he told us withal, that as any of
our sick waxed well, he might be removed from his cell
to a chamber: for which purpose there were set forth
ten spare chambers, besides the number we spake of be-
fore. This done, he brought us back to the parlor, and
lifting up his cane a little (as they do when they give
and charge or command), said to us, •Ye are to know
that the custom of the land requireth, that after this day
and to-morrow (which we give you for removing your
people from your ship), you are to keep within doors for
three days. But let it not trouble you, nor do not think
yourselves restrained, but rather left to your rest and
ease. You shall want nothing; and there are six of our

240 NEW ATLANTIS

people appointed to attend you for any bnsiness you may
have abroad.* We gave him thanks with all affection
and respect, and said, * God surely is manifested in this
land.* We offered him also twenty pistolets, but he
smiled and only said: *What? Twice paid!* And so
he left us. Soon after our dinner was served; in which
was right good viands, both for bread and meat; better
than any collegiate diet that I have known in Europe.
We had also drink of three sorts, all wholesome and
good; wine of the grape; a drink of grain, such as
is with us our ale, but more clear; and a kind of cider
made of a fruit of that country; a wonderful pleasing
and refreshing drink. Besides, there were brought in to
us great store of those scarlet oranges for our sick; which
(they said) were an assured remedy for sickness taken
at sea. There was given us also a box of small grey or
whitish pills, which they wished our sick should take,
one of the pills every night before sleep; which (they
said) would hasten their recovery. The next day, after
that our trouble of carriage and removing of our men
and goods out of our ship was somewhat settled and
quiet, I thought good to call our company together, and
when they were assembled, said unto them, ^My dear
friends, let us know ourselves, and how it stande^ with
us. We are men cast on land, as Jonas was out of the
whale's belly, when we were as buried in the deep; and
now we are on land, we are but between death and life,
for we are beyond both the old world and the new; and
whether ever we shall see Europe, God only knoweth.
It is a kind of miracle hath brought us hither, and it
must be little less that shall bring us hence. Therefore
in regard of our deliverance past, and our danger pres-
ent and to come, let us look up to God, and every man
reform his own ways. Besides we are come here among
a Christian people, full of piety and humanity. Let us
not bring that confusion of face upon ourselves, as to
show our vices or unworthiness before them. Yet there
is more, for they have by commandment (though in form
of courtesy) cloistered us within these walls for three
days; who knoweth whether it be not to take some taste
of our manners and conditions ? And if they find them bad.

NEW ATLANTIS 241

to banish us straightway; if good, to give us farther time.
For these men that they have given us for attendance,
may withal have an eye upon us. Therefore, for God's
love, and as we love the weal of our souls and bodies,
let us so behave ourselves, as we may be at peace with
God, and may find grace in the eyes of this people.'^
Our company with one voice thanked me for my good
admonition, and promised me to live soberly and civilly,
and without giving any the least occasion of offense. So
we spent our three days joyfully, and without care, in
expectation what would be done with us when they were
expired. During which time, we had every hour joy of
the amendment of our sick, who thought themselves cast
into some divine pool of healing, they mended so kindly
and so fast.

The morrow after our three days were past, there came
to us a new man, that we had not seen before, clothed
in blue as the former was, save that his turban was
white with a small red cross on the top. He had
also a tippet of fine linen. At his coming in, he did
bend to us a little, and put his arms abroad. We of our
parts saluted him in a very lowly and submissive man-
ner; as looking that from him we should receive sentence
of life or death. He desired to speak with some few of us.
Whereupon six of us only stayed, and the rest avoided
the room. He said, • I am by office governor of this
house of strangers, and by vocation I am a Christian
priest; and therefore am come to you, to offer you my
service, both as strangers, and chiefly as Christians. Some
things I may tell you, which I think you will not be
unwilling to hear. The state hath given you license to
stay on land for the space of six weeks : and let it not
trouble you, if your occasions ask further time, for the
law in this point is not precise; and I do not doubt, but
myself shall be able to obtain for you such further time
as shall be convenient. Ye shall also understand, that
the strangers' house is at this time rich, and much afore-
hand; for it hath laid up revenue these thirty-seven years;
for so long it is since any stranger arrived in this part;
and therefore take ye no care; the state will defray you
all the time you stay. Neither shall you stay one day
16

f49 NEW ATLANTIS

the less for that As for any merchandise yon have
bronghty ye shall be well nsed, and have yonr retum,
either in merchandise or in gold and silver; for to ns it
is all one. And if yon have any other request to make,
hide it not; for ye shall find we will not make your
countenance to fall by the answer ye shall receive. Only
this I must tell you, that none of you must go above a
karan (that is with them a mile and a half) from the
walls of the city, without special leave. • We answered,
after we had looked a while upon one another, admiring
this gracious and parent-like usage, that we cotdd not
tell what to say, for we wanted words to express our
thanks; and his noble, free offers left us nothing to ask.
It seemed to us, that we had before us a picture of our
salvation in heaven; for we that were a while since in
the jaws of death, were now brought into a place where
we found nothing but consolations. For the command-
ment laid upon us, we would not fail to obey it, though
it was impossible but our hearts should be inflamed to
tread further upon this happy and holy ground. We
added, that our tongues should first cleave to the roofs
of our mouths, ere we should forget, either this reverend
person, or this whole nation, in our prayers. We also most
humbly besought him to accept of us as his true servants,
by as just a right as ever men on earth were bounden;
laying and presenting both our persons and all we had at
his feet. He said, he was a priest and looked for a priest's
reward; which was our brotherly love, and the good of
our souls and bodies. So he went from us, not without
tears of tenderness in his eyes, and left us also confused
with joy and kindness, saying among ourselves, that we
were come into a land of angels, which did appear to us
daily and present us with comforts, which we thought
not of, much less expected.

The next day, about ten of the clock, the governor
came to us again, and after salutations, said familiarly,
that he was come to visit us; and called for a chair, and
sat him down; and we being some ten of us (the rest
were of the meaner sort, or else gone abroad), sat down
with him; and when we were set, he began thus: *We
of this island of Bensalem (for so they called it in their

NEW ATLANTIS 243

language) have this: that by means of our solitary situa-
tion, and of the laws of secrecy, which we have for our
travelers, and our rare admission of strangers; we know
well most part of the habitable world, and are ourselves
unknown. Therefore because he that knoweth least is
fittest to ask questions, it is more reason, for the enter-
tainment of the time, that ye ask me questions, than that
I ask you.* We answered, that we humbly thanked him,
that he would give us leave so to do. And that we con-
ceived by the taste we had already, that there was no
worldly thing on earth more worthy to be known than
the state of that happy land. But above all (we said)
since that we were met from the several ends of the
world, and hoped assuredly that we should meet one day
in the kingdom of heaven (for that we were both parts
Christians), we desired to know (in respect that land was
so remote, and so divided by vast and unknown seas
from the land where our Savior walked on earth) who
was the apostle of that nation, and how it was con-
verted to the faith ? It appeared in his face, that he took
great contentment in this our question; he said, *Ye
knit my heart to you, by asking this question in the
first place: for it showeth that you first seek the king-
dom of heaven: and I shall gladly, and briefly, satisfy
your demand.

*About twenty years after the ascension of our Savior
it came to pass, tiiat there was seen by the people of
Renfusa (a city upon the eastern coast of our island,
within sight, the night was cloudy and calm), as it might
be some mile in the sea, a great pillar of light; not
sharp, but in form of a column, or cylinder, rising from
the sea, a great way up toward heaven; and on the top
of it was seen a large cross of light, more bright and
resplendent than the body of the pillar. Upon which so
strange a spectacle, the people of the city gathered apace
together upon the sands, to wonder; and so after put
themselves into a number of small boats to go nearer to
this marvelous sight. But when the boats were come
within about sixty yards of the pillar, they found them-
selves all bound, and could go no further, yet so as they
might move to go about, but might not approach nearer;

144 NEW ATLANTIS

so as the boats stood all as in a theater^ beholding this
light, as an heavenly sign. It so fell oat, that there was
in one of the boats one of the wise men of the Society
of Salomon's House; which house or college, my good
brethren, is the very eye of this kingdom, who having
a while attentively and devoutly viewed and contemplated
this pillar and cross, fell down upon his face; and then
raised himself upon his knees, and lifting up his hands
to heaven, made his prayers in this manner:

*^Lord God of heaven and earth; thou hast vouch-
safed of thy grace, to those of our order to know thy
works of creation, and true secrets of them; and to dis-
cern (as far as appertaineth to the generations of men)
between divine miracles, works of Nature, works of art
and impostures, and illusions of all sorts. I do here
acknowledge and testify before this people, that the thing
we now see before our eyes, is thy finger, and a true
miracle. And forasmuch as we learn in our books, that
thou never workest miracles, but to a divine and excel-
lent end (for the laws of Nature are thine own laws, and
thou exceedest them not but upon great cause), we most
humbly beseech thee to prosper this great sign, and to
give us the interpretation and use of it in mercy; which
thou dost in some part secretly promise, by sending it
unto us.^

* When he had made his prayer, he presently found the
boat he was in movable and unbound; whereas all the
rest remained still fast; and taking that for an assurance
of leave to approach, he caused the boat to be softly and
with silence rowed toward the pillar; but ere he came
near it, the pillar and cross of light broke up, and cast
itself abroad, as it were into a firmament of many stars,
which also vanished soon after, and there was nothing
left to be seen but a small ark, or chest of cedar, dry
and not wet at all with water, though it swam; and in
the fore end of it, which was toward him, grew a small
green branch of palm ; and when the wise man had taken
it with all reverence into his boat, it opened of itself, and
there were found in it a book and a letter, both written
in fine parchment, and wrapped in sindons of linen. The
book contained all the canonical books of the Old and

NEW ATLANTIS 245

New Testament^ according as you have them (for we
know well what the churches with you receive ), and the
Apocalypse itself; and some other books of the New
Testament, which were not at that time written, were
nevertheless in the book. And for the letter, it was in
these words:

* ^ I Bartholomew, a servant of the Highest, and apostle
of Jesus Christ, was warned by an angel that appeared
to me in a vision of glory, that I shotdd commit this ark
to the floods of the sea. Therefore I do testify and
declare unto that people where God shall ordain this ark
to come to land, that in the same day is come unto them
salvation and peace, and good will from the Father, and
from the Lrord Jesus.*

•There was also in both these writings, as well the
book as the letter, wrought a great miracle, conform to
that of the apostles, in the original gift of tongues. For
there being at that time, in this land, Hebrews, Persians,
and Indians, besides the natives, every one read upon the
book and letter, as if they had been written in his own
language. And thus was this land saved from infidelity
(as the remain of the old world was from water) by an
ark, through the apostolical and miractdous evangelism
of St. Bartholomew.^ And here he paused, and a mes-
senger came, and called him forth from us. So this was
all that passed in that conference.

The next day, the same governor came again to us,
immediately after dinner, and ezcuised himself, saying,
•That the day before he was called from us somewhat
abruptly, but now he would make us amends, and spend
time with us, if we held his company and conference
agreeable.^ We answered, that we held it so agreeable
and pleasing to us, as we forgot both dangers past, and
fears to come, for the time we heard him speak; and that
we thought an hour spent with him was worth years of our
former life. He bowed himself a little to us, and after we
were set again, he said, • Well, the questions are on your
part.* One of our number said, after a little pause, that
there was a matter we were no less desirous to know than
fearful to ask, lest we might presume too far. . But en-
couraged by his rare humanity toward us (that could

245 NEW ATLANTIS

scarce think ourselves strangers, being his vowed and pro-
fessed servants), we wonld take the hardness to propound
it; humbly beseeching him, if he thought it not fit to be
answered, that he would pardon it, though he rejected it
We said, we well observed those his words, which he
formerly spake, that this happy island, where we now
stood, was known to few, and yet knew most of the
nations of the world, which we found to be true, consid-
ering they had the languages of Europe, and knew much
of our state and business; and yet we in Europe (not-
withstanding all the remote discoveries and navigations
of this last age) never heard any of the least inkling or
glimpse of this island. This we found wonderful strange;
for that all nations have interknowledge one of another,
either by voyage into foreign parts, or by strangers that
come to them; and though the traveler into a foreign
country doth commonly know more by the eye than he
that stayeth at home can by relation of the traveler: yet
both ways suffice to make a mutual knowledge, in some
degree, on both parts. But for this island, we never
heard tell of any ship of theirs, that had been seen to
arrive upon any shore of Europe; no, nor of either the
East or West Indies, nor yet of any ship of any other
part of the world, that had made return for them. And
yet the marvel rested not in this. For the situation of
it (as his lordship said) in the secret conclave of such a
vast sea might cause it. But then, that they should have
knowledge of the languages, books, affairs, of those that
lie such a distance from them, it was a thing we could
not tell what to make of; for that it seemed to us a con-
dition and propriety of divine powers and beings, to be
hidden and unseen to others, and yet to have others
open, and as in a light to them. At this speech the gov-
ernor gave a gracious smile and said, that we did well
to ask pardon for this question we now asked, for that
it imported, as if we thought this land a land of ma-
gicians, that sent forth spirits of the air into all parts,
to bring them news and intelligence of other countries.
It was answered by U5 all, in all possible humbleness,
but yet with a countenance taking knowledge, that we
knew that he spake it but merrily. That we were apt

NEW ATLANTIS 247

enough to think, there was somewhat supernatural in this
island, but yet rather as angelical than magical. But to
let his lordship know truly what it was that made us
tender and doubtful to ask this question, it was not any
such conceit, but because we remembered he had given a
touch in his former speech, that this land had laws of
secrecy touching strangers. To this he said, *You re-
member it aright; and therefore in that I shall say to
you, I must reserve some particulars, which it is not law-
ful for me to reveal, but there will be enough left to
give you satisfaction.

*You shall understand (that which perhaps you will
scarce think credible) that about three thousand years
ago, or somewhat more, the navigation of the world
(especially for remote voyages) was greater than at this
day. Do not think with yourselves, that I know not how
much it is increased with you, within these threescore
years; I know it well, and yet I say, greater then than
now; whether it was, that tibie example of the ark, that
saved the remnant of men from the universal deluge,
gave men confidence to adventure upon the waters, or
what it was; but such is the truth. The Phoenicians, and
especially the Tjrrians, had great fleets; so had the Car-
thaginians their colony, which is yet farther west To-
ward the east the shipping of Egj^t, and of Palestine,
was likewise great. China also, and the great Atlantis
(that you call America), which have now but junks and
canoes, abounded then in tall ships. This island (as ap-
peareth by faithful registers of those times) had then fif-
teen hundred strong ships, of great content. Of all this
there is with you sparing memory, or none ; but we have
large knowledge thereof.

• At that time, this land was known and frequented by
the ships and vessels of all the nations before named.
And (as it cometh to pass) they had many times men of
other countries, that were no sailors, that came with them;
as Persians, Chaldeans, Arabians, so as almost all nations
of might and fame resorted hither; of whom we have
some stirps and little tribes with us at this day. And
for our own ships, they went sundry voyages, as well to
your straits, which you call the Pillars of Hercules, as

142 KBW ATLANTIS

to other parts in the Atlantic and Mediterranean Seas;
as to Paguin (which is the same with Cambalaine) and
Quinzy, upon the Oriental Seas, as far as to the borders
of the East Tartary.

* At the same time, and an age after or more, the in-
habitants of the great Atlantis did floorish. For though
the narration and description which is made by a great
man with you, that the descendants of Neptune planted
there, and of the magnificent temple, palace, city and
hill ; and the manifold streams of goodly navigable rivers,
which as so many chains environed the same site and
temple; and the several degrees of ascent, whereby men
did climb up to the same, as if it had been a Scala Coeli ;
be all poetical and fabulous; yet so much is true,
that the said country of Atlantis, as well as that of Peru,
then called Coya, as that of Mexico, then named Tyram-
bel, were mighty and proud kingdoms, in arms, shipping,
and riches ; so mighty, as at one time, or at least within
the space of ten years, they both made two great expedi-
tions: they of Tyrambel through the Atlantic to the
Mediterranean Sea; and they of Coya, through the South
Sea upon this our island; and for the former of these,
which was into Europe, the same author among you,
as it seemeth, had some relation from the Egyptian
priest, whom he citeth. For assuredly, such a thing
there was. But whether it were the ancient Athenians
that had the glory of the repulse and resistance of those
forces, I can say nothing; but certain it is there never
came back either ship or man from that voyage. Neither
had the other voyage of those of Coya upon us had better
fortune, if they had not met with enemies of greater
clemency. For the king of this island, by name Altabin,
a wise man and a great warrior, knowing well both his
own strength and that of his enemies, handled the mat-
ter so, as he cut off their land forces from their ships, and
entoiled both their navy and their camp with a greater
power than theirs, both by sea and land ; and compelled
them to render themselves without striking a stroke; and
after they were at his mercy, contenting himself only
with their oath, that they should no more bear arms,
against him, dismissed them all in safety. But the divine

NEW ATLANTIS 249

revenge overtook not long after those proud enterprises.
For within less than the space of one hundred years the
Great Atlantis was utterly lost and destroyed; not by a
great earthquake, as your man saith, for that whole tract
is little subject to earthquakes, but by a particular del-
uge, or inundation; those countries having at this day
far greater rivers, and far higher mountains, to pour
down waters, than any part of the old world. But it is
true that the same inundation was not deep, not past
forty foot, in most places, from the ground, so that
although it destroyed man and beast generally, yet some
few wild inhabitants of the wood escaped. Birds also
were saved by flying to the high trees and woods. For
as for men, although they had buildings in many places
higher than the depth of the water, yet that inundation,
though it were shallow, had a long continuance, whereby
they of the vale that were not drowned perished for
want of food and other things necessary. So as marvel
you not at the thin population of America, nor at the
rudeness and ignorance of the people; for you must ac-
count your inhabitants of America as a young people,
younger a thousand years at the least than the rest of
the world, for that there was so much time between the
universal flood and their particular inundation. For
the poor remnant of human seed which remained in their
mountains, peopled the country again slowly, by little
and little, and being simple and a savage people (not
like Noah and his sons, which was the chief family of
the earth), they were not able to leave letters, arts, and
civility to their posterity; and having likewise in their
mountainous habitations been used, in respect of the ex-
treme cold of those regions, to clothe themselves with
the skins of tigers, bears, and great hairy goats, that
they have in those parts; when after they came down
into the valley, and found the intolerable heats which
are there, and knew no means of lighter apparel, they
were forced to begin the custom of going naked, which
continueth' at this day. Only they take great pride and
delight in the feathers of birds, and this also they took
from those their ancestors of the mountains, who were
invited unto it, by the inflnite flight of birds, that came

3SO NEW ATLANTIS

up to the high grounds, while the waters stood below.
So you see, by this main accident of time, we lost our
traffic with the Americans, with whom of all others, in
regard they lay nearest to us, we had most commerce.
As for the other parts of the world, it is most manifest
that in the ages following (whether it were in respect of
wars, or by a natural revolution of time) navigation did
everywhere greatly decay, and specially far voyages (the
rather by the use of galleys, and such vessels as could
hardly brook the ocean) were altogether left and omitted.
So then, that part of intercourse which could be from
other nations, to sail to us, you see how it hath long
since ceased; except it were by some rare accident, aa
this of yours. But now of the cessation of that othei
part of intercourse, which might be by our sailing to
other nations, I must yield you some other cause. Fol
I cannot say, if I shall say trtdy, but our shipping for num-
ber, strength, mariners, pilots, and all things that ap-
pertain to navigation, is as great as ever; and therefore
why we should sit at home, I shall now give you an ac-
count by itself; and it will draw nearer, to give you
satisfaction, to your principal question.

^ There reigned in this island, about 1,900 years ago, a
king, whose memory of all others we most adore; not
superstitiously, but as a divine instrument, though a
mortal man: his name was Salomona; and we esteem
him as the lawgiver of our nation. This king had a
large heart, inscrutable for good; and was wholly bent
to make his kingdom and people happy. He therefore
taking into consideration how sufficient and substantive
this land was, to maintain itself without any aid at all
of the foreigner; being 5,000 miles in circuit, and of rare
fertility of soil, in the greatest part thereof; and finding
also the shipping of this cotmtry might be plentifully
set on work, both by fishing and by transportations from
port to port, and likewise by sailing unto some small
islands that are not far from us, and are under the crown
and laws of this state; and recalling into his memory
the happy and flourishing estate wherein this land then
was, so as it might be a thousand ways altered to the
worse, but scarce any one way to the better; though

NEW ATLANTIS 251

nothing wanted to his noble and heroical intentions, but
only (as far as human foresight might reach) to give
perpetuity to that which was in his time so happily
esta{)lished, therefore among his other fundamental
laws of this kingdom he did ordain the interdicts and
prohibitions which we have touching entrance of
strangers; which at that time (though it was after the
calamity of America) was frequent; doubting novelties
and commixture of manners. It is true, the like law
against the admission of strangers without license is an
ancient law in the kingdom of China, and yet continued
in use. But there it is a poor thing; and hath made
them a curious, ignorant, fearful foolish nation. But
our lawgiver made his law of another temper. For first,
he hath preserved all points of humanity, in taking order
and making provision for the relief of strangers dis-
tressed; whereof you have tasted.'^ At which 8i>eech
(as reason was) we all rose up, and bowed ourselves
He went on: ^That king also still desiring to join
humanity and policy together; and thinking it against
humanity, to detain strangers here against their wills;
and against policy, that they should return, and discover
their knowledge of this estate, he took this course; he
did ordain, that of the strangers that should be permitted
to land, as many at all times might depart as many
as would; but as many as would stay, should have
very good conditions, and means to live from the state.
Wherein he saw so far, that now in so many ages since
the prohibition, we have memory not of one ship that
ever returned, and but of thirteen persons only, at
several times, that chose to return in our bottoms. What
those few that returned may have reported abroad, I
know not. But you must think, whatsoever they have
said, could be taken where they came but for a dream.
Now for our traveling from hence into parts abroad,
our lawgiver thought fit altogether to restrain it. So is
it not in China. For the Chinese sail where they will,
xjC can; which showeth, that their law of keeping out
strangers is a law of pusillanimity and fear. But this
restraint of ours hath one only exception, which is ad-
mirable ; preserving the good which cometh by communi-

3S» NEW ATLANTIS

eating with straxigers, and avoiding the hurt: and I wiU
now open it to yon. And here I shall seem a little to
digress, but you will by-and-by find it pertinent Ye
shall understand, my dear friends, that among the
excellent acts of that king, one above all hath the pre-
eminence. It was the erection and institution of an
order, or society, which we call Salomon's House; the
noblest foundation, as we think, that ever was upon the
earth, and the lantern of this kingdom. It is dedicated
to the study of the works and creatures of God. Some
think it beareth the founder's name a little corrupted,
as if it should be Solomon's House. But the records
write it as it is spoken. So as I take it to be de-
nominate of the king of the Hebrews, which is famotis
with you and no strangers to us; for we have some parts of
his works which with you are lost; namely, that natural
history which he wrote of all plants, from the cedar of
Libanus to the moss that groweth out of the wall; and of
all things that have life and motion. This maketh me
think that our king finding himself to symbolize, in many
things, with that king of the Hebrews, which lived many
years before him, honored him with the title of this foun-
dation. And I am the rather induced to be of this opinion,
for that I find in ancient records, this order or society is
sometimes called Solomon's House, and sometimes the
College of the Six Days' Works; whereby I am satisfied
that our excellent king had learned from the Hebrews
that Grod had created the world, and all that therein is,
within six days: and therefore he instituted that house,
for the finding out of the true nature of all things,
whereby Grod might have the more glory in the work-
manship of them, and men the more fruit in their use of
them, did give it also that second name. But now to
come to our present purpose. When the king had for-
bidden to all his people navigation into any part that was
not under his crown, he made, nevertheless, this ordinance;
that every twelve years there should be set forth out of
this kingdom, two ships, appointed to several voyages;
that in either of these ships there should be a mission of
three of the fellows or brethren of Salomon's House,
whose errand was only to give us knowledge of the aflEairs

NEW ATLANTIS 2$$

and state of those countries to which they were designed;
and especially of the sciences, arts, manufactures, and
inventions of all the world; and withal to bring unto us
books, instruments, and patterns in every kind: that the
ships, after they had landed the brethren, should return;
and that the brethren should stay abroad till the new
mission, the ships are not otherwise fraught than with
store of victuals, and good quantity of treasure to remain
with the brethren, for the buying of such things, and
rewarding of such persons, as they should think fit. Now
for me to tell you how the vulgar sort of mariners are
contained from being discovered at land, and how they
that must be put on shore for any time, color themselves
under the names of other nations, and to what places
these voyages have been designed; and what places of
rendezvous are appointed for the new missions, and the
like circumstances of the practice, I may not do it, neither
is It much to your desire. But thus you see we maintain a
trade, not for gold, silver, or jewels, nor for silks, nor
for spices, nor any other commodity of matter; but only
for God's first creature, which was light; to have light, I
say, of the growth of all parts of the world. ^ And when
he had said this, he was silent, and so were we all; for
indeed we were all astonished to hear so strange things
so probably told. And he perceiving that we were willing
to say somewhat, but had it not ready, in great courtesy
took us off, and descended to ask us questions of our
voyage and fortunes, and in the end concluded that we
might do well to think with ourselves, what time of stay
we would demand of the state, and bade us not to scant
ourselves; for he would procure such time as we desired.
Whereupon we all rose up and presented ourselves to kiss
the skirt of his tippet, but he would not suffer us, and so
took his leave. But when it came once among our
people, that the state used to offer conditions to strangers
that would stay, we had work enough to get any of our
men to look to our ship, and to keep them from going
presently to the governor, to crave conditions; but with
much ado we restrained them, till we might agree what
course to take.
We took ourselves now for freemen, seeing there was

254 NEW ATLANTIS

no danger ot our utter perdition, and lived most joyfully,
going abroad and seeing what was to be seen in the city
and places adjacent, within our tedder; and obtaining
acquaintance with many of the city, not of the meanest
quality, at whose hands we found such humanity, and
such a freedom and desire to take strangers, as it were,
into their bosom, as was enough to make us forget all
that was dear to us in our 0¥nii countries: and continu*
ally we met with many things, right worthy of observa^
tion and relation; as indeed, if there be a mirror in the
world, worthy to hold men's eyes, it is that country.
One day there were two of our company bidden to a
feast of the family, as they call it; a most natural, pious,
and reverend custom it is, showing that nation to be
compounded of all goodness. This is the manner of it:
it is granted to any man that shall live to see thirty
persons descended of his body, alive together, and all
above three years old, to make this feast, which is done
at the cost of the state. The father of the family, whom
they call the Tirsan, two days before the feast, taketir
to him three of such friends as he liketh to choose, and
is assisted also by the governor of the city or place where
the feast is celetxrated, and all the persons of the family,
of both sexes, are summoned to attend him. These two
days the Tirsan sitteth in consultation, concerning the
good estate of the family. There, if there be any dis-
cord or suits between any of the family, they are com-
pounded and appeased. There, if any of the family be
distressed or decayed, order is taken for their relief, and
competent means to live. There, if any be subject to
vice, or take ill courses, they are reproved and censured.
So likewise direction is given touching marriages, and
the courses of life which any of them should take, with
divers other the like orders and advices. The governor
assisteth to the end, to put into execution, by his public
authority, the decrees and orders of the Tirsan, if they
should be disobeyed, though that seldom needeth; such
reverence and obedience they give to the order of Nature.
The Tirsan doth also then ever choose one man from
among his sons, to live in house with him; who is
called ever after the Son of the Vine. The reason will

NEW ATLANTIS 255

hereafter appear. On the feast day, the father or Tirsan
cometh forth after divine service into a large room where
the feast is celebrated; which room hath an half -pace at
the upper end. Against the wall, in the middle of the
half -pace, is a chair placed for him, with a table and car-
pet before it. Over the chair is a state, made round or
oval, and it is of ivy; an ivy somewhat whiter than ours,
like the leaf of a silver asp, but more shining; for it is
green all winter. And the state is curiously wrought
with silver and silk of divers colors, broiding or binding
in the ivy; and is ever of the work of some of the
daughters of the family; and veiled over at the top, with
a fine net of silk and silver. But the substance of it is
true ivy; whereof after it is taken down, the friends of
the family are desirous to have some leaf or sprig to
keep. The Tirsan cometh forth with all his generation
or lineage, the males before him, and the females follow-
ing him; and if there be a mother, from whose body the
whole lineage is descended, there is a traverse placed in
a loft above on the right hand of the chair, with a privy
door, and a carved window of glass, leaded with gold
and blue; where she sitteth, but is not seen. When the
Tirsan is come forth, he sitteth down in the chair; and
all the lineage place themselves against the wall, both at
his back, and upon the return of the half -pace, in order
of their years, without difference of sex, and stand upon
their feet. When he is set, the room being always full
of company, but well kept and without disorder, after
some pause there cometh in from the lower end of the
room a Taratan (which is as much as an herald), and on
either side of him two young lads: whereof one carrieth
a scroll of their shining yellow parchment, and the other
a cluster of grapes of gold, with a long foot or stalk.
The herald and children are clothed with mantles of
sea- water green satin; but the herald's mantle is
streamed with gold, and hath a train. Then the
herald with three curtsies, or rather inclinations,
cometh up as far as the half-pace, and there first
taketh into his hand the scroll. This scroll is the king's
charter, containing gift of revenue, and many privileges,
exemptions, and points of honor, granted to the father o^

25« NEW ATLANTIS

the family, and it is ever styled and directed, *To such
an one, our well-beloved friend and creditor,* which is a
title proper only to this case. For they say, the king is
debtor to no man, but for propagation of his subjects;
the seal set to the king's charter is the king's image,
embossed or molded in gold; and though such charters
be expedited of course, and as of right, yet they are
varied by discretion, according to the ntmiber and dignity
of the family. This charter the herald readeth aloud; and
while it is read, the father or Tirsan standeth up, sup-
ported by two of his sons, such as he chooseth. Then
the herald mounteth the half-pace, and delivereth the
charter into his hand: and with that there is an accla-
mation, by all that are present, in their language, which
is thus much, • Happy are the people of Bensalem.* Then
th^ herald taketh into his hand from the other child the
cluster of grapes, which is of gold; both the stalk, and
the grapes. But the grapes are daintily enameled ; and if
the males of the family be the greater number, the grapes
are enameled purple, with a little sun set on the top; if
the females, then they are enameled into a greenish yel-
low, with a crescent on the top. The grapes are in
number as many as there are descendants of the family.
This golden cluster the herald delivereth also to the Tir-
san ; who presently delivereth it over to that son that he
had formerly chosen, to be in house with him; who
beareth it before his father, as an ensign of honor, when
he goeth in public ever after; and is thereupon called the
Son of the Vine. After this ceremony endeth the father
or Tirsan retireth; and after some time cometh forth
again to dinner, where he sitteth alone under the state,
as before; and none of his descendants sit with him, of
what degree or dignity so ever, except he hap to be of
Salomon's House. He is served only by his own children,
such as are male; who perform unto him all service of
the table upon the knee, and the women only stand about
him, leaning against the wall. The room below his half-
pace hath tables on the sides for the guests that are
bidden; who are served with great and comely order; and
toward the end of dinner (which in the greatest feasts
with them lasteth never above an hour and a half) there

NEW ATLANTIS 357

is an hymn snng, varied according to the invention of
him that composeth it (for they have excellent poesy),
but the subject of it is always the praises of Adam, and
Noah, and Abraham; whereof the former two peopled the
world, and the last was the father of the faithful: con-
cluding ever with a thanksgiving for the nativity of our
Savior, in whose birth the births of all are only blessed.
Dinner being done, the Tirsan retire th again; and having
withdrawn himself alone into a place, where he maketh
some private prayers, he cometh forth the third time, to
give the blessing; with all his descendants, who stand
about him as at the first. Then he calleth them forth by
one and by one, by name as he pleaseth, though seldom
the order of age be inverted. The person that is called
(the table being before removed) kneeleth down before the
chair, and the father layeth his hand upon his head, or
her head, and giveth the blessing in these words: *Son
of Bensalem (or daughter of Bensalem), thy father saith
it; the man by whom thou hast breath and life speaketh
the word; the blessing of the everlasting Father, the
Prince of Peace, and the Holy Dove be upon thee, and
make the days of thy pilgrimage good and many.* This
he saith to every of them; and that done, if there be
any of his sons of eminent merit and virtue, so they be
not above two, he calleth for them again, and saith,
laying his arm over their shoulders, they standing: ^ Sons,
it is well you are bom, give God the praise, and perse-
vere to the end.* And withal delivereth to either of
them a jewel, made in the figure of an ear of wheat,
which they ever after wear in the front of their turban,
or hat; this done, they fall to music and dances, and
other recreations, after their manner, for the rest of the
day. This is the full order of that feast.

By that time six or seven days were spent, I was fallen
into straight acquaintance with a merchant of that city,
whose name was Joabin. He was a Jew and circumcised;
for they have some few stirps of Jews yet remaining
among them, whom they leave to their own religion.
Which they may the better do, because they are of a
far diflfering disposition from the Jews in other parts.
For whereas they hate the name of Christ, and have a
X7

3S8 NEW ATLANTIS

secret inbred rancor against the people among whom
they live ; these, contrariwise, give unto our Savior many
high attribntes, and love the nation of Bensalem ex-
tremely. Surely this man of whom I speak would ever
acknowledge that Christ was bom of a Virgin; and that
he was more than a man; and he would tell how God
made him ruler of the seraphims, which guard his
throne; and they call him also the Milken Way, and the
Eliah of the Messiah, and many other high names,
which though they be inferior to his divine majesty, yet
they are far from the language of other Jews. And for
the country of Bensalem, this man would make no end
of commending it, being desirous by tradition among the
Jews there to have it believed that the people thereof
were of the generations of Abraham, by another son,
whom they call Nachoran; and that Moses by a secret
cabala ordained the laws of Bensalem which they now
use; and that when the Messias should come, and sit in
his throne at Hierusalem, the King of Bensalem should
sit at his feet, whereas other kings should keep a great
distance. But yet setting aside these Jewish dreams, the
man was a wise man and learned, and of great policy,
and excellently seen in the laws and customs of that na-
tion. Among other discourses one day I told him, I
was much afiEected with the relation I had from some of
the company of their custom in holding the feast of the
family, for that, methought, I had never heard of a so-
lemnity wherein Nature did so much preside. And be-
cause propagation of families proceedeth from the nuptial
copulation, I desired to know of him what laws and cus-
toms they had concerning marriage, and whether they
kept marriage well, and whether they were tied to one
wife? For that where population is so much afiEected,
and such as with them it seemed to be, there is com-
monly permission of plurality of wives. To this he said:
• You have reason for to commend that excellent institu-
tion of the feast of the family; and indeed we have ex-
perience, that those families that are partakers of the
blessings of that feast, do flourish and prosper ever after,
in an extraordinary manner. But hear me now, and I
will tell you what I know. . You shall understand that

HEW ATLANTIS 259

there is not under the heavens so chaste a nation as this
of Bensalem, nor so free from all pollution or foulness.
It is the virgin of the world; I remember, I have read
in one of your European books, of an holy hermit among
you, that desired to see the spirit of fornication, and
there appeared to him a little foul ugly Ethiope; but if
he had desired to see the spirit of chastity of Bensa-
lem, it would have appeared to him in the likeness of a
fair beautiftd cherubim. For there is nothing, among
mortal men, more fair and admirable than the chaste
minds of this people. Know, therefore, that with them
there are no stews, no dissolute houses, no courtesans,
nor anything of that kind. Nay, they wonder, with de-
testation, at you in Europe, which permit such things.
They say ye have put marriage out of oflSce; for mar-
riage is ordained a remedy for unlawful concupiscence;
and natural concupiscence seemeth as a spur to marriage.
But when men have at hand a remedy, more agreeable
to their corrupt will, marriage is almost expulsed. And
therefore there are with you seen infinite men that marry
not, but choose rather a libertine and impure single life,
than to be yoked in marriage ; and many that do marry,
marry late, when the prime and strength of their years
is past. And when they do marry, what is marriage to
them but a very bargain; wherein is sought alliance, or
portion, or reputation, with some desire (almost indiffer-
ent) of issue; and not the faithful nuptial union of man
and wife, that was first instituted. Neither is it possible
that those that have cast away so basely so much of their
strength, should greatly esteem children (being of the
same matter) as chaste men do. So likewise during mar-
riage is the case much amended, as it ought to be if those
things were tolerated only for necessity; no, but they re-
main still as a very affront to marriage. The haunting
of those dissolute places, or resort to courtesans, are no
more punished in married men than in bachelors. And
the depraved custom of change, and the delight in mere-
tricious embracements (where sin is turned into art),
maketh marriage a dull thing, and a kind of imposition
or tax. They hear you defend these things, as done to
avoid greater evils; as advoutries, deflowering of virgins,

26o NEW ATLANTIS

mmatural lust, and the like. But they say, this is a pre-
posterous wisdom; and they call it Lot's offer, who to
save his guests from abusing, offered his daughters; nay,
they say further, that there is little gained in this; for
that the same vices and appetites do still remain and
abound, unlawful lust being like a furnace, that if you
stop the flames altogether it will quench, but if you
give it any vent it will rage; as for masculine love, they
have no touch of it; and yet there are not so faithful and
inviolate friendships in the world again as are there, and
to speak generally (as I said before) I have not read of
any such chastity in any people as theirs. And their usual
sa}ring is that whosoever is unchaste cannot reverence him-
self ; and they say that the reverence of a man's self, is,
next religion, the chief est bridle of all vices.* And when
he had said this the good Jew paused a little; whereupon
I, far more willing to hear him speak on than to speak my-
self; yet thinking it decent that upon his pause of speech
I should not be altogether silent, said only this; that I
would say to him, as the widow of Sarepta said to Blias:
•that he was come to bring to memory our sins*; and
that I confess the righteousness of Bensalem was greater
than the righteousness of Europe. At which speech he
bowed his head and went on in this manner: * They have
also many wise and excellent laws touching marriage.
They allow no polygamy. They have ordained that none
do intermarry, or contract, until a month be passed from
their first interview. Marriage without consent of par-
ents they do not make void, but they mulct it in the in-
heritors; for the children of such marriages are not
admitted to inherit above a third part of their parents*
inheritance. I have read in a book of one of your men, ot
a feigned commonwealth, where the married couple are
permitted, before they contract, to see one another naked.
This they dislike; for they think it a scorn to give a
refusal after so familiar knowledge ; but because of many
hidden defects in men and women's bodies, they have a more
civil way; for they have near every town a couple of pools
(which they call Adam and Eve's pools), where it is per-
mitted to one of the friends of the man, and another of the
friends of the woman, to see them severally bathe naked. *

NEW ATLANTIS 361

And as we were thus in conference, there came one
that seemed to be a messenger, in a rich hnke, that
spake with the Jew; whereupon he turned to me and
said, *You will pardon me, for I am commanded away
in haste. • The next morning he came to me again, joy-
ful as it seemed and said, •There is word come to the
governor of the city, that one of the fathers of Salomon's
House will be here this day seven-night; we have seen
none of them this dozen years. His coming is in state;
but the cause of his coming is secret. I will provide you
and your fellows of a good standing to see his entry. ^
I thanked him, and told him I was most glad of the
news. The day being come he made his entry. He was
a man of middle stature and age, comely of person, and
had an aspect as if he pitied men. He was clothed in a
robe of fine black cloth with wide sleeves, and a cape;
his under garment was of excellent white linen down
to the foot, girt with a girdle of the same; and a sin-
don or tipi>et of the same about his neck. He had
gloves that were curious, and set with stone; and shoes
of peach-colored velvet. His neck was bare to the
shoulders. His hat was like a helmet, or Spanish mon-
tero; and his locks curled below it decently; they were of
color brown. His beard was cut round and of the same
color with his hair, somewhat lighter. He was carried in
a rich chariot, without wheels, litter- wise, with two horses
at either end, richly trapped in blue velvet embroidered ;
and two footmen on each side in the like attire. The
chariot was all of cedar, gilt, and adorned with crystal;
save that the fore-end had panels of sapphires, set in
borders of gold, and the hinder-end the like of emeralds
of the Peru color. There was also a sun of gold, radiant
upon the top, in the midst; and on the top before a small
cherub of gold, with wings displayed. The chariot was
covered with cloth of gold tissued upon blue. He had
before him fifty attendants, young men all, in white satin
loose coats up to the mid-leg, and stockings of white silk ;
and shoes of blue velvet; and hats of blue velvet, with
fine plumes of divers colors, set round like hatbands.
Next before the chariot went two men, bare-headed, in
linen garments down to the foot, girt, and shoes of blue

263 NEW ATLANTIS

velvet, who carried the one a crosier, the other a pas-
toral staff like a sheephook; neither of them of metal,
but the crosier of balm-wood, the pastoral staff of cedar.
Horsemen he had none, neither before nor behind his
chariot; as it seemeth, to avoid all tumult and trouble.
Behind his chariot went all the officers and principals of
the companies of the city. He sat alone, upon cushions,
of a kind of excellent plush, blue; and under his foot
curious carpets of silk of divers colors, like the Persian,
but far finer. He held up his bare hand, as he went, as
blessing the people, but in silence. The street was won-
derfully well kept; so that there was never any army
had their men stand in better battle-array than the peo-
ple stood. The windows likewise were not crowded, but
everyone stood in them, as if they had been placed.
When the show was passed, the Jew said to me, ^ I shall
not be able to attend you as I would, in regard of some
charge the city hath laid upon me for the entertaining of
this great person.* Three days after the Jew came to
me again, and said, *Ye are happy men; for the father
of Salomon's House taketh knowledge of your being here,
and commanded me to tell you, that he will admit all
your company to his presence, and have private confer-
ence with one of you, that ye shall choose; and for this
hath appointed the next day after to-morrow. And be-
cause he meaneth to give you his blessing, he hath ap-
pointed it in the forenoon.* We came at our day and
hour, and I was chosen by my fellows for the private
access. We found him in a fair chamber, richly hanged,
and carpeted under foot, without any degrees to the
state; he was set upon a low throne richly adorned, and
a rich cloth of state over his head of blue satin em-
broidered. He was alone, save that he had two pages
of honor, on either hand one, finely attired in white.
His under garments were the like that we saw him wear
in the chariot; but instead of his gown, he had on him
a mantle with a cape, of the same fine black, fastened
about him. When we came in, as we were taught, we
bowed low at our first entrance; and when we were
come near his chair, he stood up, holding forth his hand
ungloved, and in posture of blessing; and we every one

NEW ATLANTIS 263

of us stooped down, and kissed the end of his tippet.
That done, the rest departed, and I remained. Then he
warned the pages forth of the room, and caused me to
sit down beside him, and spake to me thus in the Span-
ish tongue: —

*God bless thee, my son; I will give thee the greatest
jewel I have. For I will impart unto thee, for the love
of God and men, a relation of the true state of Salomon's
House. Son, to make you know the true state of Salo-
mon's House, I will keep this order. First, I will set
forth unto you the end of our foundation. Secondly, the
preparations and instruments we have for our works.
Thirdly, the several employments and functions whereto
our fellows are assigned. And fourthly, the ordinances
and rites which we observe.

^ The end of our foundation is the knowledge of causes,
and secret motions of things; and the enlarging of the
bounds of human empire, to the effecting of all things
possible.

^ The preparations and instruments are these. We have
large and deep caves of several depths; the deepest are
sunk 600 fathoms; and some of them are digged and made
under great hills and mountains; so that if you reckon
together the depth of the hill, and the depth of the cave,
they are, some of them, above three miles deep. For we
find that the depth of an hill, and the depth of a cave
from the flat, is the same thing; both remote alike from
the sun and heaven's beams, and from the open air.
These caves we call the lower region. And we use
them for all coagulations, indurations, refrigerations, and
conservations of bodies. We use them likewise for the
imitation of natural mines and the producing also of new
artificial metals, by compositions and materials which we
use and lay there for many years. We use them also
sometimes (which may seem strange) for curing of some
diseases, and for prolongation of life, in some hermits
that choose to live there, well accommodated of all things
necessary, and indeed live very long; by whom also we
learn many things.

•We have burials in several earths, where we put
divers cements, as the Chinese do their porcelain. But

264 NEW ATLANTIS

we have them in greater variety, and some of them more
fine. We also have great variety of composts and soils,
for the making of the earth fruitful.

*We have high towers, the highest about half a mile
in height, and some of them likewise set upon high
mountains, so that the vantage of the hill with the
tower, is in the highest of them three miles at least.
And these places we call the upper region, account the
air between the high places and the low, as a middle
region. We use these towers, according to their several
heights and situations, for insulation, refrigeration, con-
servation, and for the view of divers meteors — as winds,
rain, snow, hail; and some of the fiery meteors also.
And upon them, in some places, are dwellings of hermits,
whom we visit sometimes, and instruct what to ob-
serve.

• We have great lakes, both salt and fresh, whereof we
have use for the fish and fowl. We use them also for
burials of some natural bodies, for we find a difference
in things buried in earth, or in air below the earth, and
things buried in water. We have also pools, of which
some do strain fresh water out of salt, and others by
art do turn fresh water into salt. We have also some
rocks in the midst of the sea, and some bays upon the
shore for some works, wherein is required the air and
vapor of the sea. We have likewise violent streams
and cataracts, which serve us for many motions; and
likewise engines for multiplying and enforcing of winds
to set also on divers motions.

*^We have also a number of artificial wells and foun-
tains, made in imitation of the natural sources and baths,
as tincted upon vitriol, sulphur, steel, brass, lead, niter,
and other minerals; and again, we have little wells for
infusions of many things; where the waters take the
virtue quicker and better than in vessels or basins. And
among them we have a water, which we call water of
Paradise, being by that we do it made very sovereign
for health and prolongation of life.

•We have also great and spacious houses, where we
imitate and demonstrate meteors — as snow, hail, rain,
some artificial rains of bodies, and not of water, thun-

NEW ATLANTIS 265

ders, lightnings; also generations of bodies in air — as
frogs flies, and divers others.

^We have also certain chambers, which we call cham-
bers of health, where we qualify the air as we think
good and proper for the cure of divers diseases, and
preservation of health.

*We have also fair and large baths, of several mix-
tures, for the cure of diseases, and the restoring of
man's body from aref action; and others for the confirm-
ing of it in strength of sinews, vital parts, and the very
juice and substance of the body.

* We have also large and various orchards and gardens,
wherein we do not so much respect beauty as variety of
ground and soil, proper for divers trees and herbs, and
some very spacious, where trees and berries are set,
whereof we make divers kinds of drinks, besides the
vineyards. In these we practice likewise all conclusions
of grafting, and inoculating, as well of wild trees as fruit
trees, which produceth many effects. And we make by art,
in the same orchards and gardens, trees and flowers, to
come earlier or later than their seasons, and to come up
and bear more speedily than by their natural course they
do. We make them also by art greater much than their
nature; and their fruit greater and sweeter, and of dif-
ferent taste, smell, color, and figure, from their nature.
And many of them we so order, as that they become of
medicinal use.

•We have also means to make divers plants rise by
mixtures of earths without seeds, and likewise to make
divers new plants, differing from the vulgar, and to
make one tree or plant turn into another.

«We have also parks, and inclosures of all sorts, of
beasts and birds; which we use not only for view or
rareness, but likewise for dissections and trials, that
thereby may take light what may be wrought upon the
body of man. Wherein we find many strange effects: as
continuing life in them, though divers parts, which you
account vital, be perished and taken forth; resuscitating
of some that seem dead in appearance, and the like.
We try also all poisons, and other medicines upon them,
as well of chirurgery as physic. By art likewise we make

266 NEW ATLANTIS

them greater or smaller than their kind is, and contra-
riwise dwarf them and stay their growth ; we make them
more fruitful and bearing than their kind is, and con*
trariwise barren and not generative. Also we make
them differ in color, shape, activity, many ways. We find
means to make commixtures and copulations of divers
kinds, which have produced many new kinds, and them
not barren, as the general opinion is. We make a num-
ber of kinds of serpents, worms, flies, fishes of putrefact-
ion, whereof some are advanced (in effect) to be perfect
creatures, like beasts or birds, and have sexes, and do
propagate. Neither do we this by chance, but we know
beforehand of what matter and commixture, what kind
of those creatures will arise.

*We have also particular pools where we make trials
upon fishes, as we have said before of beasts and birds.

* We have also places for breed and generation of those
kinds of worms and flies which are of special use; such
as are with you your silkworms and bees.

• I will not hold you long with recounting of our brew-
hotises, bake-houses, and kitchens, where are made divers
drinks, breads, and meats, rare and of special effects.
Wines we have of grapes, and drinks of other juice, of
fruits, of grains, and of roots, and of mixtures with honey,
sugar, manna, and fruits dried and decocted; also of the
tears or wounding of trees, and of the pulp of canes.
And these drinks are of several ages, some to the age
or last of forty years. We have drinks also brewed with
several herbs, and roots, and spices; yea, with several
fleshes, and white meats; whereof some of the drinks
are such as they are in effect meat and drink both, so
that divers, especially in age, do desire to live with them
with little or no meat or bread. And above all we strive to
have drinks of extreme thin parts, to insinuate into the
body, and yet without all biting, sharpness, or fretting;
insomuch as some of them put upon the back of your
hand, will with a little stay pass through to the palm,
and yet taste mild to the mouth. We have also
waters, which we ripen in that fashion, as they become
nourishing, so that they are indeed excellent drinks, and
many will use no other. Bread we have of several grains.

NEW ATLANTIS 267

roots, and kernels; yea, and some of flesh, and fish, dried,
with divers kinds of leavings and seasonings; so that
some do extremely move appetites, some do nourish so,
as divers do live of them, without any other meat, who
live very long. So for meats, we have some of them so
beaten and made tender, and mortified, yet without all cor-
rupting, as a weak heat of the stomach will turn them
into good chilus, as well as a strong heat would meat
otherwise prepared. We have some meats also and bread,
and drinks, which taken by men, enable them to fast
long after; and some other, that used make the very
flesh of men's bodies sensibly more hard and tough, and
their strength far greater than otherwise it would be.

* We have dispensatories or shops of medicines; wherein
you may easily think, if we have such variety of plants,
and living creatures, more than you have in Europe (for
we know what you have), the simples, drugs, and in-
gredients of medicines, must likewise be in so much the
greater variety. We have them likewise of divers ages,
and long fermentations. And for their preparations, we
have not only all manner of exquisite distillations, and
separations, and especially by gentle heats, and percol-
ations through divers strainers, yea, and substances; but
also exact forms of composition, whereby they incorpo-
rate almost as they were natural simples.

^ We have also divers mechanical arts, which you have
not; and stuffs made by them, as papers, linen, silks,
tissues, dainty works of feathers of wonderful luster, ex-
cellent dyes, and many others, and shops likewise as well
for such as are not brought into vulgar use among us,
as for those that are. For you must know, that of the
things before recited, many of them are grown into use
throughout the kingdom, but yet, if they did flow from
our invention, we have of them also for patterns and
principles.

*We have also furnaces of great diversities, and that
keep great diversity of heats; fierce and quick, strong
and constant, soft and mild, blown, quiet, dry, moist,
and the like. But above all we have heats, in imitation
of the sun's and heavenly bodies' heats, that pass divers
inequalities, and as it were orbs, progresses, and returns

«68 NEW ATLANTIS

whereby we produce admirable effects. Besides, we have
heats of dungs, and of bellies and maws of living creat-
ures and of their bloods and bodies, and of hays and
herbs laid up moist, of lime unquenched, and such like.
Instruments also which generate heat only by motioxL
And further, places for strong insulations; and again,
places under the earth, which by nature or art yield heat
These divers heats we use, as the nature of the opera-
tion which we intend requireth.

*We have also perspective-houses, where we make
demonstrations of all lights and radiations, and of all
colors; and out of things uncolored and transparent, we
can represent unto you all several colors, not in rain-
bows, as it is in gems and prisms, but of themselves
single. We represent also all multiplications of light,
which we carry to great distance, and make so sharp, as
to discern small points and lines. Also all colorations of
light: all delusions and deceits of the sight, in figures,
magnitudes, motions, colors; all demonstrations of shad-
ows. We find also divers means, yet unknown to you,
of producing of light, originally from divers bodies. We
procure means of seeing objects afar off, as in the heaven
and remote places; and represent things near as afar off,
and things afar off as near; making feigned distances.
We have also helps for the sight far above spectacles and
glasses in use; we have also glasses and means to see
small and minute bodies, perfectly and distinctly; as the
shapes and colors of small flies and worms, grains, and
flaws in gems which cannot otherwise be seen, observa-
tions in urine and blood not otherwise to be seen. We
make artificial rainbows, halos, and circles about light.
We represent also all manner of reflections, refractions,
and multiplications of visual beams of objects.

*We have also precious stones, of all kinds, many of
them of great beauty and to you unknown; crystals like-
wise, and glasses of divers kind; and among tiiem some
of metals vitrificated, and other materials, besides those
of which you make glass. Also a number of fossils, and
imperfect minerals, which you have not. Likewise load-
stones of prodigious virtue: and other rare stones, both
natural and artificial.

NEW ATLANTIS 269

•We have also sound-houses, where we practice and
demonstrate all sounds and their generation. We have
harmony which you have not, of quarter sounds and les-
ser slides of sounds. Divers instruments of music like-
wise to you unknown, some sweeter than any you have;
with bells and rings that are dainty and sweet. We repre-
sent small sounds as great and deep, likewise great sounds,
extenuate and sharp; we make divers tremblings and
warblings of sounds, which in their original are entire.
We represent and imitate all articulate sounds and let-
ters, and the voices and notes of beasts and birds. We
have certain helps, which set to the ear do further the
hearing greatly; we have also divers strange and artifi-
cial echoes, reflecting the voice many times, and as it
were tossing it; and some that give back the voice louder
than it came, some shriller and some deeper; yea, some
rendering the voice, diflPering in the letters or articulate
soimd from that they receive. We have all means to convey
soimds in trunks and pipes, in strange lines and distances.

•We have also perfume-houses, wherewith we join
also practices of taste. We multiply smells which may
seem strange: we imitate smells, making all smells to
breathe out of other mixtures than those that give them.
We make divers imitations of taste likewise, so that they
will deceive any man's taste. And in this house we
contain also a confiture-house, where we make all sweet-
meats, dry and moist, and divers pleasant wines, milks,
broths, and salads, far in greater variety than you have.

• We have also engine-houses, where are prepared engines
and instruments for all sorts of motions. There we imi-
tate and practice to make swifter motions than any you
have, either out of your muskets or any engine that you
have; and to make them and multiply them more easily
and with small force, by wheels and other means, and
to make them stronger and more violent than yours are,
exceeding your greatest cannons and basilisks. We repre-
sent also ordnance and instruments of war and engines
of all kinds; and likewise new mixtures and compositions
of gunpowder, wildfires burning in water and unquench-
able, also fireworks of all variety, both for pleasure and
use. We imitate also flights of birds; we have some

270 NEW ATLANTIS

degrees of flying in the air. We have ships and boats
for going under water and brooking of seas, also swim-
ming-girdles and supporters. We have divers curious
clocks and other like motions of return, and some per-
petual motions. We imitate also motions of living crea-
tures by images of men, beasts, birds, fishes, and serpents;
we have also a great number of other various motions,
strange for equality, fineness and subtilty.

• We have also a mathematical-house, where are repre-
sented all instruments, as well of geometry as astronomy,
exquisitely made.

*We have also houses of deceits of the senses, where
we represent all manner of feats of juggling, false ap-
paritions, impostures and illusions, and their fallacies.
And surely you will easily believe that we, that have so
many things truly natural which induce admiration, could
in a world of particulars deceive the senses if we would
disguise those things, and labor to make them more
miraculous. But we do hate all impostures, and lies,
insomuch as we have severely forbidden it to all our
fellows, under pain of ignominy and fines, that they do
not show any natural work or thing adorned or swelling,
but only pure as it is, and without all affectation of
strangeness.

•These are, my son, the riches of Salomon's House.

• For the several employments and offices of our fellows,
we have twelve that sail into foreign countries under the
names of other nations (for our own we conceal), who
bring us the books and abstracts, and patterns of experi-
ments of all other parts. These we call merchants of light.

•We have three that collect the experiments which
are in all books. These we call deprepators.

•We have three that collect the experiments of all
mechanical arts, and also of liberal sciences, and also of
practices which are not brought into arts. These we call
mystery-men.

•We have three that try new experiments.

• Such as themselves think good. These we call pioneers
or miners.

• We have three that draw the experiments of the for-
mer four into titles and tables, to give the better light

NEW ATLANTIS 271

for the drawing of observations and axioms out of them.
These we call compilers. We have three that bend
themselves^ looking into the experiments of their f ellows^
and cast about how to draw out of them things of use
and practice for man's life and knowledge, as well for
works as for plain demonstration of causes, means of
natural divinations, and the easy and clear discovery of
the virtues and parts of bodies. These we call dowry-
men or benefactors.

^Then after divers meetings and consults of our
whole number, to consider of the former labors and
collections, we have three that take care out of them
to direct new experiments, of a higher light, more
penetrating into Nature than the former. These we
call lamps.

^We have three others that do execute the experi-
ments so directed, and report them. These we call inoc-
ulators.

* Lastly, we have three that raise the former discover-
ies by experiments into greater observations, axioms, and
aphorisms. These we call interpreters of Nature.

•We have also, as you must think, novices and ap-
prentices, that the succession of the former employed
men do not fail; besides a great number of servants and
attendants, men and women. And this we do also: we
have consultations, which of the inventions and experi-
ences which we have discovered shall be published, and
which not: and take all an oath of secrecy for the con-
cealing of those which we think fit to keep secret:
though some of those we do reveal sometime to the state,
and some not.

•For our ordinances and rites, we have two very long
and fair galleries: in one of these we place patterns and
samples of all manner of the more rare and excellent in-
ventions: in the other we place the statues of all princi-
pal inventors. There we have the statue of your
Columbus, that discovered the West Indies: also the in-
ventor of ships: your Monk that was the inventor of
ordnance and of gunpowder: the inventor of music: the
inventor of letters: the inventor of printing: the inventor
of observations of astronomy: the inventor of works in

272 NEW ATLANTIS

metal: the inventor of glass: the inventor of silk of the
worm: the inventor of wine: the inventor of com and
bread: the inventor of sugars; and all these by more
certain tradition than you have. Then we have divers
inventors of our own, of excellent works; which since
you have not seen, it were too long to make descriptions
of them ; and besides, in the right understanding of those
descriptions you might easily err. For upon every invention
of value we erect a statue to the inventor, and give him a
liberal and honorable reward. These statues are some of
brass, some of marble and touchstone, some of cedar and
other special woods gilt and adorned; some of iron, some
of silver, some of gold.

•We have certain hymns and services, which we say
daily, of laud and thanks to God for his marvelous works.
And forms of prayers, imploring his aid and blessing for
the illumination of otir labors; and turning them into
good and holy uses.

•Lastly, we have circuits or visits, of divers principal
cities of the kingdom ; where as it cometh to pass we do
publish such new profitable inventions as we think good.
And we do also declare natural divinations of diseases,
plagues, swarms of hurtful creatures, scarcity, tempest,
earthquakes, great inundations, comets, temperature of
the year and divers other things; and we give counsel
thereupon, what the people shall do for the prevention
and remedy of them.*

And when he had said this, he stood up; and I, as I
had been taught, knelt down; and he laid his right hand
upon my head, and said, •God bless thee, my son, and
God bless this relation which I have made. I give thee
leave to publish it, for the good of other nations; for
we here are in God's bosom, a land unknown.* And so
he left me; having assigned a value of about two thou-
sand ducats for a bounty to me and my fellows. For
they give great largesses, where they come, upon all oc-
casions.

THE REST WAS NOT PERFECTED.

CAMPANELLA^S
CITY OF THE SUN.

(W)

C .

THE CITY OF THE SUN.

[A Poetical Dialogue between a Giandmaster of the Knights Hospital-
lers and a Genoese Sea Captain, his Guest]

G, M, — Prithee, now, tell me what happened to you
during that voyage?

Capt. — I have already told you how I wandered over
the whole earth. In the course of my joumejring I came
to Taprobane, and was compelled to go ashore at a place,
where through fear of the inhabitants I remained in a
wood. When I stepped out of this I found myself on a
large plain immediately under the equator.

G. M. — And what befell you here?

Capt, — I came upon a large crowd of men and armed
women, many of whom did not imderstand our language,
and they conducted me forthwith to the City of the Stm.

G, M. — Tell me after what plaii this city is built and
how it is governed?

Capt. — The greater part of the city is built upon a
high hill, which rises from an extensive plain, but sev-
eral of its circles extend for some distance beyond the
base of the hill, which is of such a size that the diameter
of the city is upward of two miles, so that its circum-
ference becomes about seven. On accotmt of the humped
shape of the mountain, however, the diameter of the city
is really more than if it were built on a plain.

It is divided into seven rings or huge circles named
from the seven planets, and the way from one to the
other of these is by four streets and through four gates,
that look toward the four points of the compass. Fur-
thermore, it is so built that if the first circle were
stormed, it would of necessity entail a double amount of
energy to storm the second; still more to storm the third;
and in each succeeding case the strength and energy
wotdd have to be doubled; so that he who wishes to cap-

(«75)

276 THB CITY OF THE SUN

tnre that city must, as it were, storm it seven times.
For my own part, however, I think that not even the
first wall could be occupied, so thick are the earthworks
and so well fortified is it with breastworks, towers, guns
and ditches.

When I had been taken through the northern gate
(which is shut with an iron door so wrought that it can
be raised and let down, and locked in easily and strongly,
its projections running into the grooves of the thick posts
by a marvelous device), I saw a level space seventy
paces* wide between the first and second walls. From
hence can be seen large palaces all joined to the wall of
the second circuit, in such a manner as to appear all one
palace. Arches run on a level with the middle height
of the palaces, and are continued round the whole ring.
There are galleries for promenading upon these arches,
which are supported from beneath by thick and well-
shaped columns, enclosing arcades like peristyles, or
cloisters of an abbey.

But the palaces have no entrances from below except
on the inner or concave partition, from which one enters
directly to the lower parts of the building. The higher
parts, however, are reached by flights of marble steps,
which lead to galleries for promenading on the inside
similar to those on the outside. From these one enters the
higher rooms, which are very beautiful, and have windows
on the concave and convex partitions. These rooms are
divided from one another by richly decorated walls.
The convex or outer wall of the ring is about eight
spans thick; the concave three; the intermediate walls
are one, or perhaps one and a half. Leaving this cir-
cle one gets to the second plain, which is nearly three
paces narrower than the first. Then the first wall of
the second ring is seen adorned above and below with
similar galleries for walking, and there is on the inside
of it another interior wall inclosing palaces. It has also
similar peristyles supported by columns in the lower
part, but above are excellent pictures, round the ways
into the upper houses. And so on afterward through
similar spaces and double walls, enclosing palaces, and

* A pace was i ^ yards, i,ooo paces making a mile.

THE CITY OP THE SUN 277

adorned with galleries for walking, extending along their
outer side and supported by columns, till the last circuit
is reached the way being still over a level plain.

But when the two gates, that is to say, those of the
outmost and the inmost walls have been passed, one
mounts by means of steps so formed that an ascent is
scarcely discernible, since it proceeds in a slanting direc-
tion, and the steps succeed one another at almost imper-
ceptible heights. On the top of the hill is a rather
spacious plain, and in the midst of this there rises a
temple built with wondrous art

G. M. — Tell on, I pray you ! Tell on! I am dying
to hear more.

Capt. — ^The temple is built in the form of a circle; it is
not girt with walls, but stands upon thick columns, beauti-
fully grouped. A very large dome, built with great care
in the center or pole, contains another small vault as it
were rising out of it, and in this a spiracle, which is right
over the altar. There is but one altar in the middle of
the temple, and this is hedged round by columns. The
temple itself is on a space of more than three hundred
and fifty paces. Without it, arches measuring about eight
paces extend from the heads of the columns outwards,
whence other columns rise about three paces from the thick,
strong and erect wall. Between these and the former col-
umns there are galleries for walking, with beautiful pave-
ments, and in the recess of the wall, which is adorned with
numerous large doors, there are immovable seats, placed as
it were between the inside columns, supporting the temple.
Portable chairs are not wanting, many and well adorned.
Nothing is seen over the altar but a large globe, upon
which the heavenly bodies are painted, and another globe
upon which there is a representation of the earth. Fur-
thermore, in the vault of the dome there can be discerned
representations of all the stars of heaven from the first
to the sixth magnitude, with their proper names and
power to influence terrestrial things marked in three little
verses for each. There are the poles and greater and
lesser circles according to the right latitude of the place,
but these are not perfect because there is no wall below.
They seem, too, to be made in their relation to the globes

a78 THE CITY OF THE SUN

on the altar. The pavement of the temple is bright with
precious stones. Its seven golden lamps hang alwajrs
burning, and these bear the names of the seven planets.

At the top of the building several small and beautiful
cells surround the small dome, and behind the level space
above the bands or arches of the exterior and interior
columns there are many cells, both small and large, where
the priests and religious officers dwell to the number of
forty-nine.

A revolving flag projects from the smaller dome, and
this shows in what quarter the wind is. The flag is
marked with figures up to thirty-six, and the priests know
what sort of year the different kinds of winds bring and
what will be the changes of weather on land and sea.
Furthermore, under the flag a book is always kept writ-
ten with letters of gold.

G. M. — I pray you, worthy hero, explain to me their
whole system of government; for I am anxious to hear it.

Capt, — The great ruler among them is a priest whom
they call by the name Hoh, though we should call him
Metaphysic. He is head over all, in temporal and spirit-
ual matters, and all business and lawsuits are settled by
him, as the supreme authority. Three princes of equal
power — viz, Pon, Sin and Mor — assist him, and these in
oiir tongue we should call Power, Wisdom and Lovs. To
Power belongs the care of all matters relating to war
and peace. He attends to the military arts, and, next to
Hoh, he is ruler in every affair of a warlike nature. He
governs the military magistrates and the soldiers, and has
the management of the munitions, the fortifications, the
storming of places, the implements of war, the armories,
the smiths and workmen connected with matters of this
sort

But Wisdom is the ruler of the liberal arts, of me-
chanics, of all sciences with their magistrates and doc-
tors, and of the discipline of the schools. As many
doctors as there are, are under his control. There is
one doctor who is called Astrologus; a second, Cosmo-
graphus; a third, Arithmeticus; a fourth, Geometra; a fifth,
Historiographus; a sixth, Poeta; a seventh, Logicus; an
eighth, Rhetor; a ninth, Grammaticus; a tenth, Medicus;

THE CITY OP THE SUN 279

an eleventh, Physiologus; a twelfth, Politicus; a thir-
teenth, Moralis. They have but one book, which they
call Wisdom, and in it all the sciences are written with
conciseness and marvelous fluency of expression. This
they read to the people after the custom of the Pytha-
goreans. It is Wisdom who causes the exterior and
interior, the higher and lower walls of the city to be
adorned with the finest pictures, and to have all the
sciences painted upon them in an admirable manner.
On the walls of the temple and on the dome, which is
let down when the priest gives an address, lest the
sounds of his voice, being scattered, should fly away
from his audience, there are pictures of stars in their
different magnitudes, with the powers and motions of
each, expressed separately in three little verses.

On the interior wall of the first circuit all the mathe-
matical figures are conspicuously painted — figures more
in number than Archimedes or Euclid discovered, marked
symmetrically, and with the explanation of them neatly
written and contained each in a little verse. There are
definitions and propositions, etc., etc. On the exterior
convex wall is first an immense drawing of the whole
earth, given at one view. Following upon this, there
are tablets setting forth for every separate country the
customs both public and private, the laws, the origins
and the power of the inhabitants; and the alphabets the
different people use can be seen above that of the City
of the Sun.

On the inside of the second circuit, that is to say of
the second ring of buildings, paintings of all kinds
of precious and common stones, of minerals and metals
are seen; and a little piece of the metal itself is also
there with an apposite explanation in two small verses
for each metal or stone. On the outside are marked all
the seas, rivers, lakes, and streams which are on the face
of the earth; as are also the wines and the oils and the
different liquids, with the sources from which the last are
extracted, their qualities and strength. There are also
vessels built into the wall above the arches, and these
are full of liquids from one to three hundred years old,
which cure all diseases. Hail and snow, storms and

38o THE CITY OP THE SUN

thunder, and whatever else takes place in the air, are
represented with suitable figures and little verses. The
inhabitants even have the art of representing in stone
all the phenomena of the air, such as the wind, rain,
thunder, the rainbow, etc.

On the interior of the third circuit all the different
families of trees and herbs are depicted, and there is a
live specimen of each plant in earthenware vessels placed
upon the outer partition of the arches. With the speci-
mens there are explanations as to where they were first
found, what are their powers and natures, and resem-
blances to celestial things and to metals: to parts of the
human body and to things in the sea, and also as to their
uses in medicine, etc. On the exterior wall are all the
races of fish, found in rivers, lakes and seas, and their
habits and values, and ways of breeding, training and
living, the purposes for which they exist in the world,
and their uses to man. Further, their resemblances to
celestial and terrestrial things, produced both by nature
and art, are so given that I was astonished when I saw
a fish which was like a bishop, one like a chain, another
like a garment, a fourth like a nail, a fifth like a star,
and others like images of those things existing among
us, the relation in each case being completely manifest.
There are sea urchins to be seen, and the purple shell*
fish and mussels; and whatever the watery world pos-
sesses worthy of being known is there fully shown in
marvelous characters of painting and drawing.

On the fourth interior wall all the different kinds of
birds are painted, with their natures, sizes, customs,
colors, manner of living, etc. ; and the only real phoenix
is possessed by the inhabitants of this city. On the ex-
terior are shown all the races of creeping animals, ser-
pents, dragons and worms; the insects, the flies, gnats,
beetles, etc., in their different states, strength, venoms and
uses, and a great deal more than you or I can think of.

On the fifth interior they have all the larger animals
of the earth, as many in number as would astonish you.
We indeed know not the thousandth part of them, for
on the exterior wall also a great many of immense size
are also portrayed. To be sure, of horses alone, how

THE CITY OP THE SUN 281

great a number of breeds there is and how beautiful are
the forms there cleverly displayed

On the sixth interior are painted all the mechanical
arts, with the several instruments for each and their
manner of use among different nations. Alongside the
dignity of such is placed, and their several inventors are
named. But on the exterior all the inventors in science,
in warfare, and in law are represented. There I saw
Moses, Osiris, Jupiter, Mercury, Lycurgus, Pompilius,
Pythagoras, Zamolxis, Solon, Charondas, Phoroneus, with
very many others. They even have Mahomet, whom
nevertheless they hate as a false and sordid legislator.
In the most dignified position I saw a representation of
Jesus Christ and of the twelve Apostles, whom they con-
sider very worthy and hold to be great Of the repre-
sentations of men, I perceived Cesar, Alexander, Pyrrhus
and Hannibal in the highest place; and other very
renowned heroes in peace and war, especially Roman
heroes, were painted in lower positions, tmder the gal-
leries. And when I asked with astonishment whence
they had obtained our history, they told me that among
them there was a knowledge of all languages, and that
by perseverance they continually send explorers and ambas-
sadors over the whole earth, who learn thoroughly the
customs, forces, rule, and histories of the nations, bad
and good alike. These they apply all to their own repub-
lic, and with this they are well pleased. I learned that
cannon and typography were invented by the Chinese
before we knew of them. There are magistrates, who
announce the meaning of the pictures, and boys are
accustomed to learn all the sciences, without toil and as
if for pleasure; but in the way of history only until
they are ten years old.

Love is foremost in attending to the charge of the
race. He sees that men and women are so joined
together, that they bring forth the best offspring. Indeed,
they laugh at us who exhibit a studious care for our
breed of horses and dogs, but neglect the breeding of
human beings. Thus the education of the children is
under his rule. So also is the medicine that is sold, the
sowing and collecting of fruits of the earth and of trees.

382 THE CITY OP THE SUN

agrictilture, pasturage, the preparations for the months,
the cooking arrangements, and whatever has any refer-
ence to food, clothing, and the intercourse of the sexes.
Love himself is ruler, but there are many male and
female magistrates dedicated to these arts.

Metaphysic then with these three rulers manage all
the above-named matters, and even by himself alone
nothing is done; all business is discharged by the four
together, but in whatever Metaphysic inclines to the
rest are sure to agree.

G. M. — Tell me, please, of the magistrates, their servi-
ces and duties, of the education and mode of living,
whether the government is a monarchy, a republic, or an
aristocracy.

Capt. — This race of men came there from India, flying
from the sword of the Magi, a race of plunderers and
tyrants who laid waste their country, and they deter-
mined to lead a philosophic life in fellowship with one
another. Although the community of wives is not in-
stituted among the other inhabitants of their province,
among them it is in use after this manner. All things
are common with them, and their dispensation is by
the authority of the magistrates. Arts and honors and
pleasures are common, and are held in such a manner
that no one can appropriate anything to himself.
^"^ They say that all private property is acquired and im-
proved for the reason that each one of us by himself has
his own home and wife and children. Prom this self-
love springs. For when we raise a son to riches and
dignities, and leave an heir to much wealth, we become
either ready to grasp at the property of the state, if in
any case fear should be removed from the power which
belongs to riches and rank; or avaricious, crafty, and
hypocritical, if anyone is of slender purse, little strength,
and mean ancestry. But when we have taken away self-
__^love, there remains only love for the state.

G. M. — Under such circumstances no one will be will-
ing to labor, while he expects others to work, on the fruit
of whose labors he can live, as Aristotle argues against Plato.

Capt. — I do not know how to deal with that argu-
ment, but I declare to you that they bum with so great

THE CITY OF THE SUN 283

a love for their fatherland, as I could scarcely have
believed possible; and indeed with much more than the
histories tell us belonged to the Romans, who fell will-
ingly for their country, inasmuch as they have to a
greater extent surrendered their private property. I
think truly that the friars and monks and clergy of our
country, if they were not weakened by love for their
kindred and friends, or by the ambition to rise to higher
dignities, would be less fond of property, and more
imbued with a spirit of charity toward all, as it was in
the time of the Apostles, and is now in a great many
cases.

G. M. — St. Augustine may say that, but I say that
among this race of men, friendship is worth nothing;
since they have not the chance of conferring mutual
benefits on one another.

CVi//.— Nay, indeed. For it is worth the trouble to see
that no one can receive gifts from another. Whatever is
necessary they have, they receive it from the community,
and the magistrate takes care that no one receives more
than he deserves. Yet nothing necessary is denied to
anyone. Friendship is recognized among them in war,
in infirmity, in the art contests, by which means they aid
one another mutually by teaching. Sometimes they im«
prove themselves mutually with praises, with conversa-
tion, with actions, and out of the things they need. All
those of the same age call one another brothers. They
call all over twenty-two years of age, fathers; those who
are less than twenty-two are named sons. Moreover, the
magistrates govern well, so that no one in the fraternity
can do injury to another.

G. M. — And how?

Capt. — As many names of virtues as there are among
us, so many magistrates there are among them. There
is a magistrate who is named Magnanimity, another
Fortitude, a third Chastity, a fourth Liberality, a fifth
Criminal and Civil Justice, a sixth Comfort, a seventh
Truth, an eighth Kindness, a tenth Gratitude, an eleventh
Cheerfulness, a twelfth Exercise, a thirteenth Sobriety,
etc. They are elected to duties of that kind, each one
to that duty for excellence in which he is known from

384 THE CITY OP THE SUN

boyhood to be most suitable. Wherefore among them
neither robbery nor clever murders, nor lewdness, incest,
adultery, or other crimes of which we accuse one another,
can be found. They accuse themselves of ingratitude
and malignity when anyone denies a lawful satisfaction
to another, of indolence, of sadness, of anger, of scurrility,
of slander, and of lying, which curseful thing they
thoroughly hate. Accused persons undergoing punish-
ment are deprived of the common table, and other
honors, tmtil the judge thinks that they agree with their
correction.

G. M. — Tell me the manner in which the magistrates
are chosen.

Capt — You would not rightly understand this, tmless
you first learned their manner of living. That you may
know then, men and women wear the same kind of gar-
ment, suited for war. The women wear the toga below
the knee, but the men above. And both sexes axe in-
structed in all the arts together. When this has been
done as a start, and before their third year, the bojrs
learn the language and the alphabet on the walls by
walking rotmd them. They have four leaders, and four
elders, the first to direct them, the second to teach them
and these are men approved beyond all others. After
some time they exercise themselves, with gymnastics,
running, quoits, and other games, by means of which all
their muscles are strengthened alike. Their feet are
alwajrs bare, and so are their heads as far as the seventh
ring. Afterward they lead them to the offices of the
trades, such as shoemaking, cooking, metalworking,
carpentry, painting, etc. In order to find out the bent
of the genius of each one, after their seventh year, when
they have already gone through the mathematics on the
walls, they take them to the readings of all the sciences;
there are four lectures at each reading, and in the course
of four hours the four in their order explain everything.

For some take physical exercise or busy themselves
with public services or functions, others apply them-
selves to reading. Leaving these studies all are devoted
to the more abstruse subjects, to mathematics, to medi-
cine, and to other sciences. There is continual debate

THE CITY OF THE SUN 285

and studied argument among them, and after a time
they become magistrates of those sciences or mechanical
arts in which they are the most proficient; for every
one follows the opinion of his leader and judge, and
goes out to the plains to the works of the field, and for
the purpose of becoming acquainted with the pasturage
of the dumb animals. And they consider him the more
noble and renowned who has dedicated himself to the
study of the most arts and knows how to practice them
wisely. Wherefore they laugh at us in that we consider
otir workmen ignoble, and hold those to be noble who
have mastered no pursuit; but live in ease, and are so
many slaves given over to their own pleasure and las-
civiousness; and thus as it were from a school of vices
so many idle and wicked fellows go forth for the ruin
of the state.

The rest of the officials, however, are chosen by the
four chiefs, Hoh, Pon, Sin and Mor, and by the teach-
ers of that art over which they are fit to preside. And
these teachers know well who is most suited for rule.
Certain men are proposed by the magistrates in council,
they themselves not seeking to become candidates, and
he opposes who knows anything against those brought
forward for election, or if not, speaks in favor of them.
But no one attains to the dignity of Hoh except him
who knows the histories of the nations, and their cus-
toms and sacrifices and laws, and their form of govern-
ment, whether a republic or a monarchy. He must also
know the names of the lawgivers and the inventors in
science, and the laws and the history of the earth and
the heavenly bodies. They think it also necessary
that he should tmderstand all the mechanical arts, the
physical sciences, astrology and mathematics. (Nearly
every two days they teach our mechanical art. They
are not allowed to overwork themselves, but frequent
practice and the paintings render learning easy to them.
Not too much care is given to the cultivation of lan-
guages, as they have a goodly number of interpreters
who are grammarians in the state.) But beyond every-
thing else it is necessary that Hoh should understand
metaphysics and theology; that he should know thoroughly

386 THE CITY OP THE SUN

the derivations, foundations and demonstrations of all
the arts and sciences; the likeness and difference of
things; necessity, fate, and the harmonies of the uni-
verse; power, wisdom, and the love of things and of
God; the stages of life and its symbols; everjrthing re-
lating to the heavens, the earth and the sea; and the
ideas of God, as much as mortal man can know of him.
He must also be well read in the Prophets and in astrology.
And thus they know long beforehand who will be
Hoh. He is not chosen to so great a dignity unless he has
attained his thirty-fifth year. And this office is perpet-
ual, because it is not known who may be too wise for it
or who too skilled in ruling.

G. M. — Who indeed can be so wise? If even anyone
has a knowledge of the sciences it seems that he must
be unskilled in ruling.

Capt. — This very question I asked them and they re-
plied thus: *We, indeed, are more certain that such a
very learned man has the knowledge of governing, than
you who place ignorant persons in authority, and con-
sider them suitable merely because they have sprung
from rulers or have been chosen by a powerful faction.
But our Hoh, a man really the most capable to rule, is
for all that never cruel nor wicked, nor a tyrant, inas-
much as he possesses so much wisdom. This, moreover,
is not unknown to you, that the same argument cannot
apply among you, when you consider that man the most
learned who knows most of grammar, or logic, or of
Aristotle or any other author. For such knowledge as
this of yours much servile labor and memory work is re-
quired, so that a man is rendered unskillful; since he has
contemplated nothing but the words of books and has
given his mind with useless result to the consideration
of the dead signs of things. Hence he knows not in
what way God rules the universe, nor the wajrs and cus-
toms of Nature and the nations. Wherefore he is not
equal to our Hoh. For that one cannot know so many
arts and sciences thoroughly, who is not esteemed for
skilled ingenuity, very apt at all things, and therefore at
ruling especially. This also is plain to us that he who
knows only one science, does not really know either that

THE CITY OP THE StJN 2S7

or the others, and he who is suited for only one science
and has gathered his knowledge from books, is unlearned
and unskilled. But this is not the case with intellects
prompt and expert in every branch of knowledge and
suitable for the consideration of natural objects, as it is
necessary that our Hoh should be. Besides in our state
the sciences are taught with a facility ( as you have seen )
by which more scholars are turned out by us in one year
than by you in ten, or even fifteen. Make trial, I pray
you, of these boys.* In this matter I was struck with
astonishment at their truthful discourse and at the trial
of their boys, who did not understand my language weU.
Indeed it is necessary that three of them should be
skilled in our tongue, three in Arabic, three in Polish,
and three in each of the other languages, and no recre-
ation is allowed them unless they become more learned.
For that they go out to the plain for the sake of run-
ning about and hurling arrows and lances, and of firing
harquebuses, and for the sake of hunting the wild ani-
mals and getting a knowledge of plants and stones, and
agriculture and pasturage; sometimes the band of boys
does one thing, sometimes another.

They do not consider it necessary that the three rulers
assisting Hoh should know other than the arts having
reference to their rule, and so they have only a historical
knowledge of the arts which are common to all. But
their own they know well, to which certainly one is
dedicated more than another. Thus Power is the most
learned in the equestrian art, in marshaling the army,
in marking out of camps, in the manufacture of every
kind of weapon and of warlike machines, in planning
stratagems, and in every affair of a military nature.
And for these reasons, they consider it necessary that
these chiefs should have been philosophers, historians,
politicians, and physicists. Concerning the other two
triumvirs, understand remarks similar to those I have
made about Powbr.

G. M, — I really wish that you would recount all their
public duties, and would distinguish between them, and
also that you would tell clearly how they are all taught
in common.

288 THE CITY OP THE SUN

CapU — They have dwellings in common and dormito-
ries, and couches and other necessaries. But at the end
of every six months they are separated by the masters.
Some shall sleep in this ring, some in another; some in
the first apartment, and some in the second; and these
apartments are marked by means of the alphabet on the
lintel. There are occupations, mechanical and theoretical,
common to both men and women, with this difference,
that the occupations which require more hard work, and
walking a long distance, are practiced by men, such as
plowing, sowing, gathering the fruits, working at the
threshing-floor, and perchance at the vintage. But it is
customary to choose women for milking the cows, and
for making cheese. In like manner, they go to the gardens
near to the outskirts of the city both for collecting the
plants and for cultivating them. In fact, all sedentary
and stationary pursuits are practiced by the women, such
as weaving, spinning, sewing, cutting the hair, shaving,
dispensing medicines, and making all kinds of garments.
They are, however, excluded from working in wood and
the manufacture of arms. If a woman is fit to paint, she
is not prevented from doing so; nevertheless, music is
given over to the women alone, because they please the
more, and of a truth to boys also. But the women have
not the practice of the dnmi and the horn.

And they prepare their feasts and arrange the tables
in the following manner. It is the peculiar work of the
boys and girls under twenty to wait at the tables. In
every ring there are the suitable kitchens, bams, and stores
of utensils for eating and drinking, and over every de-
partment an old man and an old woman preside. These two
have at once the command of those who serve, and the
power of chastising or causing to be chastised, those who
are negligent or disobedient; and they also examine and
mark each one, both male and female, who excels in his
or her duties.

All the young people wait upon the older ones who have
passed the age of forty, and in the evening when they go to
sleep the master and mistress command that those should
be sent to work in the morning, upon whom in succession
the duty falls, one or two to separate apartments. The

THE CITY OP THE SUN 289

young people, however, wait upon one another, and that
alas! with some unwillingness. They have first and second
tables, and on both sides there are seats. On one side sit
the women, on the other the men; and as in the refectories
of the monks, there is no noise. While they are eating a
young man reads a book from a platform, intoning distinctly
and sonorously, and often the magistrates question
them upon the more important parts of the reading.
And truly it is pleasant to observe in what manner these
young people, so beautiful and clothed in garments so
suitable, attend to them, and to see at the same time so
many friends, brothers, sons, fathers and mothers all in
their turn living together with so much honesty, propriety
and love. So each one is given a napkin, a plate, fish,
and a dish of food. It is the duty of the medical offi-
cers to tell the cooks what repasts shall be prepared on
each day, and what food for the old, what for the young,
and what for the sick. The magistrates receive the full-
grown and fatter portion, and they from their share
always distribute something to the boys at the table who
have shown themselves more studious in the morning at
the lectures and debates concerning wisdom and arms.
And this is held to be one of the most distinguished
honors. For six days they ordain to sing with music
at table. Only a few, however, sing; or there is one
voice accompanjring the lute and one for each other
instrument. And when all alike in service join their
hands, nothing is found to be wanting. The old men placed
at the head of the cooking business and of the refectories
of the servants praise the cleanliness of the streets, the
houses, the vessels, the garments, the workshops and the
warehouses.

They wear white undergarments to which adheres a
covering, which is at once coat and legging, without
wrinkles. The borders of the fastenings are furnished
with globular buttons, extended round and caught up
here and there by chains. The coverings of the legs
descend to the shoes and are continued even to the heels.
Then they cover the feet with large socks, or as it were
half -buskins fastened by buckles, over which they wear
a half -boot, and besides, as I have already said, they are
19

390 THE CITY OF THE SUN

clothed with a toga. And so aptly fitting are the gar-
mentSy that when the toga is destroyed, the different
parts of the whole body are straightway discerned, no
part being concealed. They change their clothes for
different ones fonr times in the year, that is when the
snn enters respectively the constellations Aries, Cancer,
Libra and Capricorn, and according to the circumstances
and necessity as decided by the officer of health. The
keepers of clothes for the different rings are wont to dis-
tribute them, and it is marvelous that they have at the
same time as many garments as there is need for, some
heavy and some slight, according to the weather. They
all use white clothing, and this is washed in each month
with lye or soap, as are also the workshops of the lower
trades, the kitchens, the pantries, the bams, the store-
houses, the armories, the refectories, and the baths.
Moreover, the clothes are washed at the pillars of the
peristyles, and the water is brought down by means of
canals which are continued as sewers. In every street
of the different rings there are suitable fountains, which
send forth their water by means of canals, the water
being drawn up from nearly the bottom of the mountain
by the sole movement of a cleverly contrived handle. There
is water in f otmtains and in cisterns, whither the rain water
collected from the roofs of the houses is brought through
pipes full of sand. They wash their bodies often, accord-
ing as the doctor and master command. All the me-
chanical arts are practiced under the peristyles, but the
speculative are carried on above in the walking galleries
and ramparts where are the more splendid paintings, but
the more sacred ones are taught in the temple. In the
halls and wings of the rings there are solar timexrieces
and bells, and hands by which the hours and seasons are
marked off.

G. M. — Tell me about their children.

Capt, — When their women have brought forth children,
they suckle and rear them in temples set apart for alL
They give milk for two years or more as the physician
orders. After that time the weaned child is given into
the charge of the mistresses, if it is a female, and to the
masters, if it is a male. And then with other young

THE CITY OF THE SUN 391

children they are pleasantly instructed in the alphabet,
and in the knowledge of the pictures, and in running,
walking and wrestling; also in the historical drawings,
and in languages; and they are adorned with a suitable
garment of different colors. After their sixth year they
are taught natural science, and then the mechanical
sciences. The men who are weak in intellect are sent
to farms, and when they have become more proficient
some of them are received into the state. And those of
the same age and bom under the same constellation are
especially like one another in strength and in appearance,
and hence arises much lasting concord in the state, these
men honoring one another with mutual love and help.
Names are given to them by Metaphysicus, and that not
by chance but designedly, and according to each one's
peculiarity, as was the custom among the ancient Romans.
Wherefore one is called Beautiful (IhilcAer), another the
Big-nosed (Naso)^ another the Fat-legged (Cranipes)^
another Crooked (Tarvus)^ another Lean (Macer)^ and
so on. But when they have become very skilled in their
professions and done any great deed in war or in time
of peace, a cognomen from art is given to them, such as
Beautiful the great painter (Pulcker^ Pictor Magnus)^ the
golden one (Aureus)^ the excellent one {Excellens)^ or
the strong ( Strenuus ) ; or from their deeds, such as Naso
the Brave (Nason Fartis)^ or the cunning, or the great,
or very great conqueror; or from the enemy any one has
overcome, Africanus, Asiaticus, Etruscus; or if any one
has overcome Manfred or Tortelius, he is called Macer
Manfred or Tortelius, and so on. All these cognomens
are added by the higher magistrates, and very often with
a crown suitable to the deed or art, and with the flourish
of music. For gold and silver is reckoned of little value
among them except as material for their vessels and
ornaments, which are common to all.

G. M, — Tell me, I pray you, is there no jealousy among
them or disappointment to that one who has not been
elected to a magistracy, or to any other dignity to which
he aspires?

Capt, — Certainly not. For no one wants either neces-
saries or luxuries. Moreover, the race is managed for

293 THE CITY OP THE SUN

the good of the commonwealth and not of private indi-
viduals, and the magistrates must be obeyed. They deny
what we hold — viz, that it is natural to man to recog-
nize his offspring and to educate them, and to use his
wife and house and children as his own. For they say
that children are bred for the preservation of the species
and not for individual pleasure, as St Thomas also as-
serts. Therefore the breeding of children has reference
to the commonwealth and not to individuals, except in
so far as they are constituents of the commonwealth.
And since individuals for the most part bring forth chil-
dren wrongly and educate them wrongly, they consider
that they remove destruction from the state, and, there-
fore, for this reason, with most sacred fear, they commit
the education of the children, who as it were are the ele-
ment of the republic, to the care of magistrates; for the
safety of the community is not that of a few. And thus
they distribute male and female breeders of the best na-
tures according to philosophical rules. Plato thinks that
this distribution ought to be made by lot, lest some men
seeing that they are kept away from the beautiful women,
should rise up with anger and hatred against the magis-
trates; and he thinks further that those who do not de-
serve cohabitation with the more beautiful women, should
be deceived whilst the lots are being led out of the city
by the magistrates, so that at all times the women who
are suitable should fall to their lot, not those whom they
desire. This shrewdness, however, is not necessary among
the inhabitants of the City of the Sun. For with them
deformity is unknown. When the women are exercised
they get a clear complexion, and become strong of limb,
tall and agile, and with them beauty consists in tallness
and strength. Therefore, if any woman dyes her face,
so that it may become beautiful, or uses high-heeled
boots so that she may appear tall, or garments with
trains to cover her wooden shoes, she is condemned to
capital ptmishment. But if the women should even de-
sire them, they have no facility for doing these things.
For who indeed would give them this facility ? Further,
they assert that among us abuses of this kind arise from
the leisure and sloth of women. By these means they

THE CITY OP THE SUN 293

lose their color and have pale complexions, and become
feeble and small. For this reason they are without proper
complexions, use high sandals, and become beautiful not
from strength, but from slothful tenderness. And thus
they ruin their own tempers and nattires, and conse-
quently those of their ofiEspring. Furthermore, if at any
time a man is taken captive with ardent love for a cer-
tain woman, the two are allowed to converse and joke
together, and to give one another garlands of flowers or
leaves, and to make verses. But if the race is endan-
gered, by no means is further union between them per-
mitted. Moreover, the love bom of eager desire is not
known among them; only that bom of friendship.

Domestic affairs and partnerships are of little account,
because, excepting the sign of honor, each one receives
what he is in need of. To the heroes and heroines of
the republic, it is customary to give the pleasing gifts
of honor, beautiful wreaths, sweet food, or splendid clothes,
while they are feasting. In the daytime all use white
garments within the city, but at night or outside the city
they use red garments either of wool or silk. They hate
black as they do dung, and therefore they dislike the
Japanese, who are fond of black. Pride they consider
the most execrable vice, and one who acts proudly is
chastised with the most ruthless correction. Wherefore
no one thinks it lowering to wait at table or to work in
the kitchen or fields. All work they call discipline, and
thus they say that it is honorable to go on foot, to do
any act of nature, to see with the eye, and to speak with
the tongue; and when there is need, they distinguish
philosophically between tears and spittle.

Every man who, when he is told off to work, does his
duty, is considered very honorable. It is not the custom
to keep slaves. For they are enough, and more than
enough, for themselves. But with us, alas! it is not sg.
In Naples there exist seventy thousand souls, and out
of these scarcely ten or fifteen thousand do any work,
and they are always lean from overwork and are getting
weaker every day. The rest become a prey to idleness,
avarice, ill-health, lasciviousness, usury and other vices,
and contaminate and corrupt very many families by hold-

994 THE CITY OP THB SUN

ing them in servitude for their own nse, by keeping them
in poverty and slavishness, and by imparting to them
their own vices. Therefore public slavery ruins them; use-
ful works, in the field, in military service, and in arts,
except those which are debasing, are not cultivated, the
few who do practice them doing so with much aversion.
But in the City of the Sun, while duty and work is dis-
tributed among all, it only falls to each one to work for
about four hours every day. The remaining hours are
spent in learning joyously, in debating, in reading, in
reciting, in writing, in walking, in exercising the mind
and body, and with play. They allow no game which is
played while sitting, neither the single die nor dice, nor
chess, nor others like these. But they play with the ball,
with the sack, with the hoop, with wrestling, with hurl-
ing at the stake. They say, moreover, that grinding
poverty renders men worthless, cunning, sulky, thievish,
insidious, vagabonds, liars, false witnesses, etc. ; and that
wealth makes them insolent^ proud, ignorant, traitors,
asstmiers of what they know not, deceivers, boasters,
wanting in affection, slanderers, etc. But with them all
the rich and poor together make up the community.

"They are rich because they want nothing, poor because
they possess nothing; and consequently they are not

^slaves to circtmistances, but circumstances serve them.
And on this point they strongly recommend the religion
of the Christians, and especially the life of the Apos-
ties.

G. M. — This seems excellent and sacred, but the com-
munity of women is a thing too diflScult to attain. The
holy Roman Clement sajrs that wives ought to be com-
mon in accordance with the apostolic institution, and
praises Plato and Socrates, who thus teach, but the Glos-
sary interprets this community with regard to obedience.
And TertuUian agrees with the Glossary, that the first
Christians had everything in common except wives.

Capt. — These things I know little of. But this I saw
among the inhabitants of the City of the Sun that they
did not make this exception. And they defend them-
selves by the opinion of Socrates, of Cato, of Plato, and
of St. Clement, but, as you say, they misunderstand the

THE CITY OP THE SUN 395

Opinions of these thinkers. And the inhabitants of the
solar city ascribe this to their want of education, since
they are by no means learned in philosophy* Neverthe-
less, they send abroad to discover the customs of nations,
and the best of these they always adopt. Practice makes
the women suitable for war and other duties. Thus they
agree with Plato, in whom I have read these same things.
The reasoning of our Cajetan does not convince me, and
least of all that of Aristotle. This thing, however, ex-
isting among them is excellent and worthy of imitation
— viz, that no physical defect renders a man incapable
of being serviceable except the decrepitude of old age,
since even the deformed are useful for consultation.
The lame serve as guards, watching with the eyes which
they possess. The blind card wool with their hands,
separating the down from the hairs, with which latter
they stuff the couches and sofas; those who are without
the use of eyes and hands give the use of their ears or
their voice for the convenience of the state, and if one
has only one sense, he uses it in the farms. And these
cripples are well treated, and some become spies, telling
the officers of the state what they have heard.

G. M. — Tell me now, I pray you, of their military
affairs. Then you may explain their arts, ways of life
and sciences, and lastly their religion.

Capt, — The triumvir. Power, has under him all the
magistrates of arms, of artillery, of cavalry, of foot
soldiers, of architects, and of strategists, and the masters
and many of the most excellent workmen obey the
magistrates, the men of each art paying allegiance to their
respective chiefs. Moreover, Power is at the head of all
the professors of gymnastics, who teach military exercise,
and who are prudent generals, advanced in age. By
these the boys are trained after their twelfth year.
Before this age, however, they have been accustomed to
wrestling, running, throwing the weight and other minor
exercises, under inferior masters. But at twelve they
are taught how to strike at the enemy, at horses and
elephants, to handle the spear, the sword, the arrow and
the sling; to manage the horse; to advance and to
retreat; to remain in order of battle; to help a comrade

396 THE CITY OP THE SUN

in arms; to anticipate the enemy by cunning; and to
conquer.

The women also are taught these arts under their own
magistrates and mistresses, so that they may be able if
need be to render assistance to the males in battle near
the city. They are taught to watch the fortifications
lest at some time a hasty attack should suddenly be made.
In this respect they praise the Spartans and Amazons.
The women know well also how to let fly fiery balls,
and how to make them from lead; how to throw stones
from pinacles and to go in the way of an attack. They
are accustomed also to give up wine unmixed altogether,
and that one is punished most severely who shows any
fear.

The inhabitants of the City of the Sun do not fear
death, because they all believe that the soul is immortal,
and that when it has left the body it is associated with
other spirits, wicked or good, according to the merits of
this present life. Although they are partly followers of
Brahma and Pythagoras, they do not believe in the
transmigration of souls, except in some cases, by a
distinct decree of God. They do not abstain from injur-
ing an enemy of the republic and of religion, who is
unworthy of pity. During the second month the army
is reviewed, and every day there is practice of arms,
either in the cavalry plain or within the walls. Nor
are they ever without lectures on the science of war.
They take care that the accounts of Moses, of Joshua,
of David, of Judas Maccabeus, of C«sar, of Alexander,
of Scipio, of Hannibal, and other great soldiers should
be read. And then each one gives his own opinion as to
whether these generals acted well or ill, usefully or
honorably, and then the teacher answers and sa3rs who
are right.

G. M. — With whom do they wage war, and for what
reasons, since they are so prosperous?

Capt, — Wars might never occur, nevertheless they are
exercised in military tactics and in hunting, lest per-
chance they should become effeminate and unprepared
for any emergency. Besides there are four kingdoms in
the island, which are very envious of their prosi)erity, for

THE CITY OF THE SUN 297

this reason that the people desire to live after the man-
ner of the inhabitants of the City of the Sun, and to be
under their rule rather than that of their own kings.
Wherefore the state often makes war upon these because,
being neighbors, they are usurpers and live impiously,
since they have not an object of worship and do not ob-
serve the religion of other nations or of the Brahmins.
And other nations of India, to which formerly they were
subject, rise up as it were in rebellion, as also do the
Taprobanese, whom they wanted to join them at first.
The warriors of the City of the Sun, however, are always
the victors. As soon as they suffered from insult or dis-
grace or plunder, or when their allies have been harassed,
or a people have been oppressed by a tyrant of the state
(for they are always the advocates of liberty), they go
immediately to the council for deliberation. After they
have knelt in the presence of God that he might inspire
their consultation, they proceed to examine the merits of
the business, and thus war is decided on. Immediately
after a priest, whom they call Forensic, is sent away. He
demands from the enemy the restitution of the pltmder,
asks that the allies should be freed from oppression, or
that the tyrant should be deposed. If they deny these
things war is declared by invoking the vengeance of God
— the God of Sabaoth — for destruction of those who main-
tain an unjust cause. But if the enemy refuse to reply,
the priest gives him the space of one hour for his answer,
if he is a king, but three if it is a republic, so that they
cannot escape giving a response. And in this manner is
war undertaken against the insolent enemies of natural
rights and of religion. When war has been declared, the
deputy of Power performs everything, but Power, like
the Roman dictator, plans and wills everything, so that
hurtful tardiness may be avoided. And when anything
of great moment arises he consults Hoh and Wisdom
and Love.

Before this, however, the occasion of war and the
justice of making an expedition is declared by a herald
in the great council. All from twenty years and upward
are admitted to this council, and thus the necessaries are
agreed upon. All kinds of weapons stand in the armories,

298 THE CITY OF THE SUN

and these they use often in sham fights. The exterior
walls of each ring are full of guns prepared by their
labors, and they have other engines for hurling which
are called cannons, and which they take into battle upon
mules and asses and carriages. When they have arrived
in an open plain they inclose in the middle the provi-
sions, engines of war, chariots, ladders and machines, and
all fight courageously. Then each one returns to the
standards, and the enemy thinking that they are giving
and preparing to flee, are deceived and relax their order;
then the warriors of the City of the Sim, wheeling into
wings and columns on each side, regain their breath and
strength, and ordering the artillery to discharge their
bullets they resume the fight against a disorganized host.
And they observe many ruses of this kind. They over-
come all mortals with their stratagems and engines.
Their camp is fortified after the manner of the Romans.
They pitch their tents and fortify with wall and ditch
with wonderful quickness. The masters of works, of
engines and hurling machines, stand ready, and the
soldiers understand the use of the spade and the ax.

Five, eight, or ten leaders learned in the order of battle
and in strategy consult together concerning the business
of war, and command their bands after consultation. It
is their wont to take out with them a body of boys,
armed and on horses, so that they may learn to fight, just
as the whelps of lions and wolves are accustomed to blood.
And these in time of danger betake themselves to a place
of safety, along with many armed women. After the
battle the women and boys soothe and relieve the pain of
the warriors, and wait upon them and encourage them
with embraces and pleasant words. How wonderful a
help is tWs! For the soldiers, in order that they may
acquit themselves as sturdy men in the eyes of their
wives and offspring, endure hardships, and so love makes
them conquerors. He who in the fight first scales the
enemy's walls receives after the battle a crown of grass,
as a token of honor, and at the presentation the women
and boys applaud loudly; that one who affords aid to an
ally gets a civic crown of oak leaves; he who kills a
tyrant dedicates his arms in the temple and receives from

THE CITY OP THE SUN 399

Hoh the cognomen of his deed, and other warriors obtain
other kinds of crowns. Every horse soldier carries a spear
and two strongly tempered pistols, narrow at the mouth,
hanging from his saddle. And to get the barrels of their
pistols narrow they pierce the metal which they intend to
convert into arms. Further, every cavalry soldier has a
sword and a dagger. But the rest, who form the light-
armed troops, carry a metal cudgel. For if the foe
cannot pierce their metal for pistols and cannot make
swords, they attack him with clubs, shatter and overthrow
him. Two chains of six spans' length hang from the club,
and at the end of these are iron balls, and when these are
aimed at the enemy they surround his neck and drag him
to the ground; and in order that they may be able to use
the club more easily, they do not hold the reins with their
hands, but use them by means of the feet. If i)erchance
the reins are interchanged above the trappings of the
saddle, the ends are fastened to the stirrups with buckles
and not to the feet And the stirrups have an arrange-
ment for swift movement of the bridle, so that they draw
in or let out the rein with marvelous celerity. With the
right foot they turn the horse to the left, and with the left
to the right. This secret, moreover, is not known to the
Tartars. For, although they govern the reins with their
feet, they are ignorant nevertheless of turning them and
drawing them in and letting them out by means of the
block of the stirrups. The light-armed cavalry with them
are the first to engage in battle, then the men forming the
phalanx with their spears, then the archers for whose
services a great price is paid, and who are accustomed to
fight in lines crossing one another as the threads of cloth,
some rushing forward in their turn and others receding.
They have a band of lancers strengthening the line of
battle, but they make trial of the swords only at the end.
After the battle they celebrate the military triumphs
after the manner of the Romans, and even in a more
magnificent way. Prayers by the way of thank-offerings
are made to God, and then the general presents himself
in the temple, and the deeds, good and bad, are related
by the poet or historian, who according to custom was
with the expedition. And the greatest chief, Hoh,

300 THE CITY OP THE SUN

crowns the general with laurel and distributes little gifts
and honors to all the valorous soldiers, who are for some
days free from public duties. But this exemption from
work is by no means pleasing to them, since they know
not what it is to be at leisure, and so they help their
companions. On the other hand, they who have been
conquered through their own fault, or have lost the vic-
tory, are blamed; and they who were the first to take to
flight are in no way worthy to escape death, unless when
the whole army asks their lives, and each one takes upon
himself a part of their punishment But this indulgence
is rarely granted, except when there are good reasons
favoring it But he who did not bear help to an ally or
friend is beaten with rods. That one who did not obey
orders is given to the beasts, in an inclosure, to be
devoured, and a staff is put in his hand, and if he should
conquer the lions and the bears that are there, which is
almost impossible, he is received into favor again. The
conquered states or those willingly delivered up to them,
forthwith have all things in common, and receive a gar-
rison and magistrates from the City of the Sun, and by
degrees they are accustomed to the ways of the city, the
mistress of all, to which they even send their sons to be
taught without contributing anything for expense.

It would be too great trouble to tell you about the
spies and their master, and about the guards and laws
and ceremonies, both within and without the state, which
you can of yourself imagine. Since from childhood they
are chosen according to their inclination and the star
under which they were bom, therefore each one work-
ing according to his natural propensity, does his duty
well and pleasantly, because natui^ly. The same things
I may say concerning strategy and the other functions.

There are guards in the city by day and by night, and
they are placed at the four gates, and outside the walls
of the seventh ring, above the breastworks and towers
and inside mounds. These places are guarded in the day
by women, in the night by men. And lest the guard
should become weary of watching, and in case of a sur-
prise, they change them every three hours, as is the cus-
tom with our soldiers. At sunset, when the drum and

THE CITY OP THE SUN 301

symphonia sound, the armed guards are distributed.
Cavalry and infantry make use of hunting as the symbol
of war, and practice games and hold festivities in the
plains. Then the music strikes up, and freely they par-
don the offenses and faults of the enemy, and after the
victories they are kind to them, if it has been decreed
that they should destroy the walls of the enemy's city
and take their lives. All these things are done in the
same day as the victory, and afterward they never cease
to load the conquered with favors, for they say that
there ought to be no fighting, except when the con-
querors give up the conquered, not when they kill them.
If there is a dispute among them concerning injury or any
other matter (for they themselves scarcely ever contend
except in matters of honor), the chief and his magistrates
chastise the accused one secretly, if he has done harm in
deeds after he has been first angry. If they wait until the
time of the battle for the verbal decision, they must give
vent to their anger against the enemy, and he who in bat-
tle shows the most daring deeds is considered to have
defended the better and truer cause in the struggle, and
the other yields, and they are punished justly. Neverthe-
less, they are not allowed to come to single combat,
since right is maintained by the tribunal, and because the
unjust cause is often apparent when the more just suc-
cumbs, and he who professes to be the better man shows
this in public fight.

G, M, — This is worth while, so that factions should
not be cherished for the harm of the fatherland, and so
that civil wars might not occur, for by means of these a
tyrant often arises, as the examples of Rome and Athens
show. Now, I pray you, tell me of their works and mat-
ter connected therewith.

Capt. — I believe that you have already heard about
their military affairs and about their agricultural and
pastoral life, and in what way these are common to them,
and how they honor with the first grade of nobility who-
ever is considered to have a knowledge of these. They
who are skillful in more arts than these they consider
still nobler, and they set that one apart for teaching the
art in which he is most skillful. The occupations which

yn THE CITY OP THE SUN

require the most labor, such as working in metals and
building, are the most praiseworthy among them. No
one declines to go to these occupations, for the reason
that from the beginning their propensities are well known,
and among them, on accotmt of the distribution of labor,
no one does work harmful to him, but only that which
is necessary for him. The occupations entailing less
labor belong to the women. All of them are expected
to know how to swim, and for this reason ponds are dug
outside the walls of the city and within them near to
the fountains.

Commerce is of little use to them, but they know the
value of money and they count for the use of their am-
bassadors and explorers, so that with it they may have
the means of living. They receive merchants into their
states from the different cotmtries of the world, and these
buy the superfluous goods of the city. The people of
the City of the Sim refuse to take money, but in im-
porting they accept in exchange those things of which
they are in need, and sometimes they buy with money;
and the yotmg people in the City of the Sun are much
amused when they see that for a small price they receive
so many things in exchange. The old men however, do
not laugh. They are tmwilling that the state should be
corrupted by the vicious customs of slaves and foreigners.
Therefore they do business at the gates, and sell those
whom they have taken in war or keep them for digging
ditches and other hard work without the city, and for
this reason they alwajrs send four bands of soldiers to
take care of the fields, and with them there are the
laborers. They go out of the four gates from which
roads with walls on both sides of them lead to the sea,
so that goods might easily be carried over them and
foreigners might not meet with difficulty on their way.

To strangers they are kind and polite; they keep them
for three days at the public expense; after they have
first washed their feet, they show them their city and its
customs, and they honor them with a seat at the council
and public table, and there are men whose duty it is to
take care of and guard the guests. But if strangers
should wish to become citizens of their state, they try

THE CITY OF THE SUN 303

them first for a month on a farm, and for another month
in the city, then they decide concerning them, and admit
them with certain ceremonies and oaths.

Agriculture is much followed among them; there is not
a span of earth without cultivation, and they observe the
winds and propitious stars. With the exception of a few
left in the city all go out armed, and with flags and
drums and trumi)ets sounding, to the fields, for the pur-
pose of plowing, sowing, digging, hoeing, reaping,
gathering fruit and grapes; and they set in order every-
thing, and do their work in a very few hours and with
much care. They use wagons fitted with sails which are
borne along by the wind even when it is contrary, by
the marvelous contrivance of wheels within wheels.

And when there is no wind a beast draws along a huge
cart, which is a grand sight.

The guardians of the land move about in the mean-
time, armed and always in their proper turn. They do
not use dung and filth for manuring the fields, thinking
that the fruit contracts something of their rottenness,
and when eaten gives a short and poor subsistence, as
women who are beautiful with rouge and from want of
exercise bring forth feeble oflEspring. Wherefore they do
not as it were paint the earth, but dig it up well and
use secret remedies, so that fruit is borne quickly and
multiplies, and is not destroyed. They have a book for
this work, which they call the Greorgics. As much of
the land as is necessary is cultivated, and the rest is
used for the pasturage of cattle.

The excellent occupation of breeding and rearing horses,
oxen, sheep, dogs, and all kinds of domestic and tame
animals, is in the highest esteem among them as it was
in the time of Abraham. And the animals are led so to
pair that they may be able to breed well.

Fine pictures of oxen, horses, sheep, and other animals
are placed before them. They do not turn out horses
with mares to feed, but at the proper time they bring
them together in an inclosure of the stables in their fields.
A.nd this is done when they observe that the constella-
tion Archer is in favorable conjunction with Mars and
Jupiter. For the oxen they observe the Bull, for the

304 THE CITY OP THE SUN

sheep the Ram, and so on in accordance with art. Under
the Pleiades they keep a drove of hens and ducks and
geese, which are driven out by the women to feed near
the city. The women only do this when it is a pleasure
to them. There are also places inclosed, where they
make cheese, butter, and milk food. They also keep
capons, fruit, and other things, and for all these matters
there is a book which they call the Bucolics. They have
an abundance of all things, since every one likes to be
industrious, their labors being slight and profitable.
They are docile, and that one among them who is head
of the rest in duties of this kind they call king. For
they say that this is the proper name of the leaders, and
it does not belong to ignorant persons. It is wonderful
to see how men and women march together collectively,
and always in obedience to the voice of the king. Nor
do they regard him with loathing as we do, for they
know that although he is greater than themselves,
he is for all that their father and brother. They keep
groves and woods for wild animals, and they often
htmt.

' The science of navigation is considered very dignified
by them, and they possess rafts and triremes, which go
over the waters without rowers or the force of the wind,
but by a marvelous contrivance. And other vessels they
have which are moved by the winds. They have a cor-
rect knowledge of the stars, and of the ebb and flow of
the tide. They navigate for the sake of becoming ac-
quainted with nations and different countries and things.
They injure nobody, and they do not put up with injury,
and they never go to battle unless when provoked. They
assert that the whole earth will in time come to live in
accordance with their customs, and consequently they
always find out whether there be a nation whose manner
of living is better and more approved than the rest. They
admire the Christian institutions and look for a realiza-
tion of the apostolic life in vogue among themselves and
in us. There are treaties between them and the Chinese,
and many other nations, both insular and continental,
such as Siam and Calicut, which they are only just able
to explore. Furthermore, they have artificial fires, bat-

THE CITY OP THE SUN 305

ties on sea and land, and many strategic secrets. There-
fore they are nearly always victorious.

G. M, — Now it would be very pleasant to learn with
what foods and drinks they are nourished, and in what
way and for how long they live.

Capt, — Their food consists of flesh, butter, honey, cheese,
garden herbs, and vegetables of various kinds. They
were unwilling at first to slay animals, because it seemed
cruel; but thinking afterward that it was also cruel to de-
stroy herbs which have a share of sensitive feeling, they
saw that they would perish from hunger unless they did
an unjustifiable action for the sake of justifiable ones^
and so now they all eat meat. Nevertheless, they do not
kill willingly useful animals, such as oxen and horses.
They observe the difference between useful and harmful
foods, and for this they employ the science of medicine.
They always change their food. First they eat flesh, then
fish, then afterward they go back to flesh, and nature is
never incommoded or weakened. The old people use the
more digestible kind of food, and take three meals a day,
eating only a little. But the general community eat twice,
and the boys four times, that they might satisfy nature.
The length of their lives is generally one hundred years,
but often they reach two hundred.

As regards drinking, they are extremely moderate.
Wine is never given to young people until they are ten
years old, unless the state of their health demands it.
After their tenth year they take it diluted with water,
and so do the women, but the old men of fifty and up-
ward use little or no water. They eat the most healthy
things, according to the time of the year.

They think nothing harmful which is brought forth by
God, except when there has been abuse by taking too
much. And therefore in the summer they feed on fruits,
because they are moist and juicy and cool, and counter-
act the heat and dryness. In the winter they feed on dry
articles, and in the autumn they eat grapes, since they
are given by God to remove melancholy and sadness; and
they also make use of scents to a great degree. In the
morning, when they have all risen, they comb their hair
and wash their faces and hands with cold water. Then

3o6 THE CITY OF THE SUN

they chew thyme or rock parsley or fennel, or rub their
hands with these plants. The old men make incense, and
with their faces to the east repeat the short prayer which
Jesus Christ taught us. After this they go to wait upon
the old men, some go to the dance, and others to the
duties of the state. Later on they meet at the early lec-
tures, then in the temple, then for bodily exercise. Then
for a little while they sit down to rest, and at length
they go to dinner.

Among them there is never gout in the hands or feet,
no catarrh, no sciatica, nor grievous colics, nor jBatu-
lency, nor hard breathing. For these diseases are caused
by indigestion and flatulency, and by frugality and exer-
cise they remove every humor and spasm. Wherefore it is
tmseemly in the extreme to be seen vomiting or spitting,
since they say that this is a sign either of little exercise
or of ignoble sloth, or of drunkenness or gluttony. They
suffer rather from swellings or from the dry spasm, which
they relieve with plenty of good and juicy food. They
heal fevers with pleasant baths and with milk food, and
with a pleasant habitation in the country and by gradual
exercise. Unclean diseases cannot be prevalent with them
because they often clean their bodies by bathing in wine,
and soothe them with aromatic oil, and by the sweat of
exercise they diffuse the poisonous vapor which corrupts
the blood and the marrow. They do suffer a little from
consumption, because they cannot perspire at the breast,
but they never have asthma, for the humid nature of
which a heavy man is required. They cure hot fevers
with cold potations of water, but slight ones with sweet
smells, wiUi cheese bread or sleep, with music or dancing.
Tertiary fevers are cured by bleeding, by rhubarb or by
a similar drawing remedy, or by water soaked in the
roots of plants, with purgative and sharp-tasting quali-
ties. But it is rarely that they take purgative medicines.
Fevers occurring eveiy fourth day are cured easily by
suddenly startling the unprepared patients, and by means
of herbs producing effects opposite to the humors of this
fever. All these secrets they told me in opposition to
their own wishes. They take more diligent pains to cure
the lasting fevers, which they fear more, and they strive

THE CITY OP THE SUN 307

to counteract these by the observation of stars and of
plants, and by prayers to God. Fevers recurring every
fifth, sixth, eighth or more days, you never find when-
ever heavy humors are wanting.

They use baths, and moreover they have warm ones
according to the Roman custom, and they make use also
of olive oiL They have found out, too, a great many
secret cures for the preservation of cleanliness and health.
And in other ways they labor to cure the epilepsy, with
which they are often troubled.

G, M. — A sign this disease is of wonderful cleverness,
for from it Hercules, Scotus, Socrates, Callimachus and
Mahomet have suffered.

Capt, — They cure by means of prayers to heaven, by
strengthening the head, by acids, by planned gymnastics,
and with fat cheese bread sprinkled with the flour of
wheaten com. They are very skilled in making dishes,
and in them they put spice, honey, butter and many
highly strengthening spices, and they temper their rich-
ness with acids, so that they never vomit. They do not
drink ice-cold drinks nor artificial hot drinks, as the
Chinese do; for they are not without aid against the
humors of the body, on account of the help they get
from the natural heat of the water; but they strengthen
it with crushed garlic, with vinegar, with wild thyme,
with mint, and with basil, in the summer or in time of
special heaviness. They know also a secret for renovat-
ing life after about the seventieth year, and for ridding
it of affliction, and this they do by a pleasing and indeed
wonderful art.

G, M. — Thus far you have said nothing concerning
their sciences and magistrates.

Capt. — Undoubtedly I have. But since you are so
curious I wiU add more. Both when it is new moon and
full moon they call a council after a sacrifice. To this
all from twenty years upward are admitted, and each
one is asked separately to say what is wanting in the
state, and which of the magistrates have discharged their
duties rightly and which wrongly. Then after eight days
all the magistrates assemble, to wit, Hoh first, and with
him Power, Wisdom and Love. Each one of the three

3o8 THE CITY OP THE SUN

last has three magistrates under him, making in all
thirteen, and they consider the affairs of the arts pertaining
to each one of them; Power, of war; Wisdom, of the
sciences; Love, of food, clothing, education and breeding.
The masters of all the bands, who are captains of tens,
of fifties, of hundreds, also assemble, the women first and
then the men. They argue about those things which are
for the welfare of the state, and they choose the magis-
trates from among those who have already been named
in the great council. In this manner they assemble
daily, Hoh and his three princes, and they correct, con-
firm and execute the matters passing to them, as decisions
in the elections; other necessary questions they provide
of themselves. They do not use lots imless when they
are altogether doubtful how to decide. The eight magis-
trates under Hoh, Power, Wisdom and Love are changed
according to the wish of the people, but the first four are
never changed, unless they, taking council with them-
selves, give up the dignity of one to another, whom
among them they know to be wiser, more renowned, and
more nearly perfect. And then they are obedient and
honorable, since they yield willingly to the wiser man
and are taught by him. This, however, rarely happens.
The principals of the sciences, except Metaphysics, who
is Hoh himself, and is as it were the architect of all
science, having rule over all, are attached to Wisdom.
Hoh is ashamed to be ignorant of any possible thing.
Under Wisdom therefore is Grammar, Logic, Physics,
Medicine, Astrology, Astronomy, Geometry, Cosmography,
Music, Perspective, Arithmetic, Poetry, Rhetoric, Paint-
ing, Sculpture. Under the triumvir Love are Breeding,
Agriculture, Education, Medicine, Clothing, Pasturage,
Coining.

G. M. — What about their judges?

Capt. — This is the point I was just thinking of explain-
ing. Everyone is judged by the first master of his trade,
and thus all the head artificers are judges. They punish
with exile, with flogging, with blame, with deprivation
of the common table, with exclusion from the church and
from the company of women. When there is a case in
which great injury has been done, it is pimished with

THE CITY OF THE SUN 309

deathy and they repay an eye with an eye, a nose for
a nose, a tooth for a tooth, and so on, according to the
law of retaliation. If the offense is willful the council
decides. When there is strife and it takes place unde-
signedly, the sentence is mitigated; nevertheless, not by
the judge but by the triumvirate, from whom even it
may be referred to Hoh, not on account of justice but of
mercy, for Hoh is able to pardon. They have no prisons,
except one tower for shutting up rebellious enemies, and
there is no written statement of a case, which we com-
monly call a lawsuit. But the accusation and witnesses are
produced in the presence of the judge and Power; the
accused person makes his defense, and he is immediately
acquitted or condemned by the judge; and if he appeals
to the triumvirate, on the following day he is acquitted
or condemned. On the third day he is dismissed through
the mercy and clemency of Hoh, or receives the inviola-
ble rigor of his sentence. An accused person is recon-
ciled to his accuser and to his witnesses, as it were, with
the medicine of his complaint, that is, with embracing
and kissing. No one is killed or stoned unless by the
hands of the people, the accuser and the witnesses
beginning first. For they have no executioners and
lictors, lest the state should sink into ruin. The choice
of death is given to the rest of the people, who inclose
the lifeless remains in little bags and bum them by the
application of fire, while exhorters are present for the pur-
pose of advising concerning a good death. Nevertheless,
the whole nation laments and beseeches God that his
anger may be appeased, being in grief that it should, as
it were, have to cut off a rotten member of the state.
Certain officers talk to and convince the accused man by
means of arguments until he himself acquiesces in the
sentence of death passed upon him, or else he does not
die. But if a crime has been committed against the liberty
of the republic, or against God, or against the supreme
magistrates, there is immediate censure without pity.
These only are punished with death. He who is about
to die is compelled to state in the presence of the people
and with religious scrupulousness the reasons for which
he does not deserve death, and alsQ the sins of the others

3IO THE CITY OP THE SUN

who ought to die instead of him, and further the mis-
takes of the magistrates. If, moreover, it should seem
right to the person thus asserting, he must say why the
accused ones are deserving of less punishment than he.
And if by his arguments he gains the victory he is sent
into exile, and appeases the state by means of prayers
and sacrifices and good life ensuing. They do not tor-
ture those named by the accused person, but they warn
them. Sins of frailty and ignorance are punished only
with blaming, and with compulsory continuation as
learners under the law and discipline of those sciences or
arts against which they have sinned. And all these things
they have mutually among themselves, since they seem
to be in very truth members of the same body, and one
of another.

This further I would have you know, that if a trans-
gressor, without waiting to be accused, goes of his own
accord before a magistrate, accusing himself and seeking
to make amends, that one is liberated from the punish-
ment of a secret crime, and since he has not been accused
of such a crime, his punishment is changed into another.
They take special care that no one should invent slander,
and if this should happen they meet the offense with the
punishment of retaliation. Since they always walk about
and work in crowds, five witnesses are required for the
conviction of a transgressor. If the case is otherwise,
after having theatened him, he is released after he has
sworn an oath as the warrant of good conduct. Or if he
is accused a second or third time, his increased punish-
ment rests on the testimony of three or two witnesses.
They have but few laws, and these short and plain, and
written upon a flat table, and hanging to the doors of the
temple, that is between the columns. And on single
columns can be seen the essence of things described in
the very terse style of Metaphysics — viz, the essences
of God, of the angels, of the world, of the stars, of man,
of fate, of virtue, all done with great wisdom. The
definitions of all the virtues are also delineated here, and
here is the tribunal, where the judges of all the virtues have
their seat. The definition of a certain virtue is writtten un-
der that column where the judges for the aforesaid virtue sit.

THE CITY OP THE SUN 3"

and when a judge gives judgment he sits and speaks thus : O
son, thou hast sinned against this sacred definition of benefi-
cence, or of magnanimity, or of another virtue, as the
case may be. And after discussion the judge legally con-
demns him to the punishment for the crime of which he
is accused — viz, for injury, for despondency, for pride,
for ingratitude, for sloth, etc. But the sentences are
certain and true correctives, savoring more of clemency
than of actual punishment

G. M, — Now you ought to tell me about their priests,
their sacrifices, their religion, and their belief.

Capt. — The chief priest is Hoh, and it is the duty of
all the superior magistrates to pardon sins. Therefore
the whole state by secret confession, which we also use,
tell their sins to the magistrates, who at once purge their
souls and teach those that are inimical to the people.
Then the sacred magistrates themselves confess their
own sinfulness to the three supreme chiefs, and together
they confess the faults of one another, though no special
one is named, and they confess especially the heavier
faults and those harmful to the state. At length the
triumvirs confess their sinfulness to Hoh himself, who
forthwith recognizes the kinds of sins that are harmful
to the state, and succors with timely remedies. Then he
offers sacrifices and prayers to God. And before this he
confesses the sins of the whole people, in the presence
of God, and publicly in the temple, above the altar, as
often as it had been necessary that the fault should be
corrected. Nevertheless, no transgressor is spoken of by
his name. In this manner he absolves the people by
advising them that they should beware of sins of the
aforesaid kind. Afterward he offers sacrifice to God,
that he should pardon the state and absolve it of its
sins, and to teach and defend it. Once in every year
the chief priests of each separate subordinate state con-
fess their sins in the presence of Hoh. Thus he is not
ignorant of the wrongdoings of the provinces, and forth-
with he removes them with all human and heavenly
remedies.

Sacrifice is conducted after the following manner: Hoh
asks the people which one among them wishes to give

312 THE CITY OF THE SUN

himself as a sacrifice to God for the sake of his fellows.
He is then placed upon the fourth table, with ceremonies
and the o£Eering up of prayers : the table is hung up in a
wonderful manner by means of four ropes passing through
four cords attached to firm pulley blocks in the small
dome of the temple. This done they cry to the God of
mercy, that he may accept the o£Eering, not of a beast as
among the heathen, but of a human being. Then Hoh
orders the ropes to be drawn and the sacrifice is pulled
up above to the centre of the small dome, and there it
dedicates itself with the most fervent supplications.
Pood is given to it through a window by the priests, who
live around the dome, but it is allowed a very little to
eat, imtil it has atoned for the sins of the state. There
with prayer and fasting he cries to the God of heaven
that he might accept its willing offering. And after
twenty or thirty days, the anger of God being appeased,
the sacrifice becomes a priest, or sometimes, though rarely,
returns below by means of the outer way for the priests.
Ever after this man is treated with great benevolence
and much honor, for the reason that he offered himself
unto death for the sake of his country. But God does
not require death. The priests above twenty-four years
of age offer praises from their places in the top of the
temple. This they do in the middle of the night, at noon,
in the morning and in the evening, to wit, four times a
day they sing their chants in the presence of God. It is
also their work to observe the stars and to note with the
astrolabe their motions and influences upon human things,
and to find out their powers. Thus they know in what
part of the earth any change has been or will be, and at
what time it has taken place, and they send to find
whether the matter be as they have it. They make a
note of predictions, true and false, so that they may be
able from experience to predict most correctly. The
priests, moreover, determine the hours for breeding and
the days for sowing, reaping, and gathering the vintage,
and are as it were the ambassadors and intercessors and
connection between God and man. And it is from among
them mostly that Hoh is elected. They write very learned
treatises and search into the sciences. Below they never

THE CITY OP THE SUN 313

descend, tuiless for their dinner and supper, so that the
essence of their heads do not descend to the stomachs
and liver. Only very seldom, and that as a cure for the
ills of solitude, do they have converse with women. On
certain days Hoh goes up to them and deliberates with
them concerning the matters which he has lately investi-
gated for the benefit of the state and all the nations of
the world.

In the temple beneath one priest always stands near
the altar praying for the people, and at the end of every
hour another succeeds him, just as we are accustomed in
solemn prayer to change every fourth hour. And this
method of supplication they call perpetual prayer. After
a meal they return thanks to God. Then they sing the
deeds of the Christian, Jewish, and Gentile heroes, and
of those of all other nations, and this is very delightful
to them. Forsooth, no one is envious of another. They
sing a hyrrm to Love, one to Wisdom, and one each to all
the other virtues, and this they do tmder the direction of
the ruler of each virtue. Each one takes the woman he
loves most, and they dance for exercise with propriety
and stateliness under the peristyles. The women wear
their long hair all twisted together and collected into
one knot on the crown of the head, but in rolling it they
leave one curl. The men, however, have one curl only
and the rest of their hair around the head is shaven o£E.
Further, they wear a slight covering, and above this a
round hat a little larger than the size of their head.
In the fields they use caps, but at home each one wears
a biretto white, red, or another color according to his
trade or occupation. Moreover, the magistrates use
grander and more imposing-looking coverings for the
head.

They hold great festivities when the sun enters the
four cardinal points of the heavens, that is, when he
enters Cancer, Libra, Capricorn, and Aries. On these
occasions they have very learned, splendid, and as it
were comic performances. They celebrate also every full
and every new moon with a festival, as also they do the
anniversaries of the founding of the city, and of the days
when they have won victories or done any other great

3i# THE CITY OP THE SUN

achievement The celebrations take place with the music
of female voices, with the noise of trumpets and drums,
and the firing of salutations. The poets sing the praises
of the most renowned leaders and the victories. Never-
theless if any of them should deceive even by dispar-
aging a foreign hero, he is punished. No one can
exercise the function of a poet who invents that which is not
true, and a license like this they think to be a pest of
our world, for the reason that it puts a prenuum upon
virtue and often assigns it to unworthy persons, either
from fear or flattery, or ambition or avarice. For the
praise of no one is a statue erected until after his death;
but while he is alive, who has found out new arts and
very useful secrets, or who has rendered great service to
the state, either at home or on the battlefield, his name
is written in the book of heroes. They do not bury
dead bodies, but bum them, so that a plague may not
arise from them, and so that they may be converted into
fire, a very noble and powerful tiling which has its com-
ing from the sun and returns to it. And for the above
reasons no chance is given for idolatry. The statues and
pictures of the heroes, however, are there, and the
splendid women set apart to become mothers often look
at them. Prayers are made from the state to the four
horizontal comers of the world. In the morning to the
rising sun, then to the setting sun, then to the south
and lastly to the north ; and in the contrary order in the
evening, first to the setting sun, to the rising sun, to
the north, and at length to the south. They repeat but
one prayer, which asks for health of body and of mind
and happiness for themselves and all people, and they
conclude it with the petition • As it seems best to God,*
The public prayer for all is long, and it is poured forth
to heaven. For this reason the altar is round and is di-
vided crosswise by ways at right angles to one another.
By these ways Hoh enters after he has repeated the four
prayers, and he prays looking up to heaven. And then
a great mystery is seen by them. The priestly vest-
ments are of a beauty and meaning like to tiiose of
Aaron. They resemble Nature and they surpass Art
They divide the seasons according to the revolution of

THE CITY OF THE SUN 315

the sun, and not of the stars, and they observe yearly
by how much time the one precedes the other. They
hold that the sun approaches nearer and nearer, and
therefore by ever-lessening circles reaches the tropics
and the equator every year a little sooner. They measure
months by the course of the moon, years by that of the sun.
They praise Ptolemy, admire Copernicus, but place Aris-
tarchus and Philolaus before him. They take great pains
in endeavoring to understand the construction of the
world, and whether or not it will perish, and at what
time. They believe that the true oracle of Jesus Christ
is by the signs in the sun, in the moon, and in the stars,
which signs do not thus appear to many of us foolish
ones. Therefore they wait for the renewing of the age,
and perchance for its end. They say that it is very
doubtful whether the world was made from nothing, or
from the ruins of other worlds, or from chaos, but they
certainly think that it was made, and did not exist from
eternity. Therefore they disbelieve in Aristotle, whom
they consider a logician and not a philosopher. From
analogies, they can draw many arguments aga;inst the
eternity of the world. The sun and the stars they, so to
speak, regard as the living representatives and signs of
God, as the temples and holy living altars, and they honor
but do not worship them. Beyond all other things they
venerate the sun, but they consider no created thing
worthy the adoration of worship. This they give to God
alone, and thus they serve him, that they may not come
into the power of a tyrant and fall into misery by under-
going punishment by creatures of revenge. They con-
template and know God under the image of the Sun and
they call it the sign of God, his face and living image, by
means of which light, heat, life, and the making of all
things good and bad proceeds. Therefore they have
built an altar like to the Sun in shape, and the priests
praise God in the Sun and in the stars, as it were his
altars, and in the heavens, his temple as it were; and
they pray to good angels, who are, so to speak, the in-
tercessors living in the stars, their strong abodes.
For God long since set signs of their beauty in heaven,
and of his glory in the Sun. They say there is but one

3i6 THE CITY OF THE SUN

heaven, and that the planets move and rise of them-
selves when they approach the sun, or are in conjunction
with it

They assert two principles of the physics of things
below, namely, that the Sun is the father, and the Earth
the mother; the air is an impure part of the heavens;
all fire is derived from the sun. The sea is the sweat of
earth, or the fluid of earth combusted, and fused within
its bowels; but is the bond of union between air and
earth, as the blood is of the spirit and flesh of animals.
The world is a great animal, and we live within it as
worms live within us. Therefore we do not belong to
the system of stars, sun, and earth, but to God only;
for in respect to them which seek only to amplify them-
selves, we are bom and live by chance; but in respect
to God, whose instruments we are, we are formed by
prescience and design, and for a high end. Therefore
we are bound to no Father but God, and receive all
things from him. They hold as beyond question the
immortality of souls, and that these associate with good
angels after death, or with bad angels, according as they
have likened themselves in this life to either. For all
things seek their like. They di£Eer little from us as to
places of reward and punishment. They are in doubt
whether there are other worlds beyond otirs, and accotmt
it madness to say there is nothing. Nonentity is incom-
patible with the infinite entity of God. They lay down
two principles of metaphysics, entity which is the highest
God, and nothingness which is the defect of entity.
Evil and sin come of the propensity to nothingness; the
sin having its cause not efficient, but in deficiency.
Deficiency is, they say, of power, wisdom or will. Sin
they place in the last of these three, because he who
knows and has the power to do good is bound also to
have the will, for will arises out of them. They worship
God in Trinity, saying God is the supreme Power, whence
proceeds the highest Wisdom, which is the same with
God, and from these comes Love, which is both Power
and Wisdom; but they do not distinguish persons by
name, as in our Christian law, which has not been
revealed to them. This religion, when its abuses have

THE CITY OP THE SUN 317

been removed, will be the future mistress of the world,
as great theologians teach and hope. Therefore Spain
found the New World ( though its first discoverer, Colum-
bus, greatest of heroes, was a Genoese), that all nations
should be gathered under one law. We know not what
we do, but God knows, whose instruments we are.
They sought new regions for lust of gold and riches,
but God works to a higher end. The sim strives to
bum up the earth, not to produce plants and men, but
God guides the battle to great issues. His the praise,
to him the glory!

G. M. — Oh, if you knew what our astrologers say of
the coming age, and of our age, that has in it more
history within a hundred years than all the world had
in four thousand years before ! Of the wonderful inven-
tion of printing and guns, and the use of the magnet,
and how it all comes of Mercury, Mars, the Moon, and
the Scorpion!

Capt. — Ah, well! God gives all in his scooA time.
They astrologize too much.

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