The prince

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CO

DEDICATION

To the Magnificent LORENZO Di PIERO DE' Mjinct.

IT is customary for such as seek a Prince's favour, to present
themselves before him with those tilings of theirs which they
themselves most value, or in which they perceive him chiefly to
delight. Accordingly, we often see horses, armour, cloth of gold,
precious stones, and the like costly gifts, offered to Princes as
worth}' of their greatness. Desiring in like manner to approach
your Magnificence with some token of my devotion, I have found
among my possessions none that I so much prize and esteem as a
knowledge of the actions of great men, acquired in the course of
a long experience of modern affairs and a continual study of
antiquity. Which knowledge most carefully and patiently pon
dered over and sifted by me, and now reduced into this little
book, I send to your Magnificence. And though I deem the
work unworthy of your greatness, yet am I bold enough to hope
that your courtesy will dispose you to accept it, considering that
I can offer you no better gift than the means of mastering in
a very brief time, all that in the course of so many years, and at
the cost of so many hardships and dangers, I have learned, and
know.

This work I have not adorned or amplified with rounded

periods, swelling and high-flown language, or any other of those

extrinsic attractions and allurements wherewith many authors are

wont to set off and grace their writings; since it is my desire

: that it should either pass wholly unhonoured, or that the truth

i of its matter and the importance of its subject should alone

.recommend it.

Nor would I have it thought presumption that a person of very
mean and humble station should venture to discourse and lay
down rules concerning the government of Princes. For as those
who make maps of countries place themselves low down in the
plains to study the character of mountains and elevated lands,

5

DEDICATION

.d place themselves high up on the mountains to get a better
view of the plains, so in like manner to understand the People a
man should be a Prince, and to have a clear notion of Princes he
should belong to the People.

Let your Magnificence, then, accept this little gift in the spirit
in which I offer it ; wherein, if you diligently read and study it,
you will recognize my extreme desire that you should attain to
that eminence which Fortune and your own merits promise you.
Should you from the height of your greatness some time turn
your eyes to these humble regions, you will become aware how
undeservedly I have to endure the keen and unremitting malignity
of Fortune.

NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI

CHAPTER I
OF THE VARIOUS KINDS OF PRINCEDOM,

AND OF THE WAYS IN WHICH THEY ARE ACQUIRED

A-L the States and Governments by which men are or
ever have been ruled, have been and are either
Republics or Princedoms. Princedoms are either
I hereditary, in which the sovereignty is derived through an
j ancient line of ancestors, or they are new. New Prince
doms are either wholly new, as that of Milan to Francesco
Sforza; or they are like limbs joined on to the hereditary
possessions of the Prince who acquires them, as the King
dom of Naples to the dominions of the King of Spain. The
States thus acquired have either been used to live under a
Prince or have been free ; and he who acquires them does
so either by his own arms or by the arms of others, and
either by good fortune or by merit.

CHAPTER II
OF HEREDITARY PRINCEDOMS

OF Republics I shall not now speak, having elsewhere
spoken of them at length. Here I shall treat exclusively of
Princedoms, and, filling in the outline above traced out,
shall proceed to examine how such States are to be governed
and maintained.

I say, then, that hereditary States, accustomed to the
family of their Prince, are maintained with far less diffi
culty than new States, since all that is required is that the
Prince shall not depart from the usages of his ancestors,

7

8 MACHIAVELLI

trusting for the rest to deal with events as they arise. So
that if an hereditary Prince be of average address, he will
always maintain himself in his Princedom, unless deprived
of it by some extraordinary and irresistible force ; and even
if so deprived will recover it, should any, even the least,
mishap overtake the usurper. We have in Italy an example
of this in the Duke of Ferrara, who never could have with
stood the attacks of the Venetians in 1484, nor those of
Pope Julius in 1510, had not his authority in that State been
consolidated by time. For since a Prince by birth has fewer

' occasions and less need to give offence, he ought to be
better loved, and will naturally be popular with his subjects

' unless outrageous vices make him odious. Moreover, the
yery_antiquijty_and continuance of his rule will efface the
memories and_causes which lead to innovation. For one
change always leaves a dovetail into which another will fit.

CHAPTER III
OF MIXED PRINCEDOMS

BUT in new Princedoms difficulties abound. And, first, if
the Princedom be not wholly new, but joined on to the
ancient dominions of the Prince, so as to form with them
what may be termed a mixedNPrincedom, changes will come
'.from a cause common to all new States^ namely|that men,
thinking to better their condition, are always ready to
change masters, and in this expectation will take up arms
against any ruler; wherein they deceive themselves, and
find afterwards by experience that they are worse off than
beforel This again results naturally and necessarily from
the circumstance that the Prince cannot avoid giving offence
to his new subjects, either in respect of the troops lie
quarters on them, or of some other of .the numberless vexa
tions attendant on a new acquisition. fcAnd in this way you
may find that you have enemies in all those whom you have
injured in seizing the Princedom, ^ yet cannot keep the
friendship of those who helped you ta gain it ; since you can
neither reward them as they expect, nor yet, being under
obligations to them, use violent remedies against them, i

THE PRINCE 9

For however strong you may be in respect of your army,
- it is essential that in entering a new Province you should
</ have the good will of its inhabitants.

Hence it happened that Louis XII of France, speedily
gaining possession of Milan, as speedily lost it; and that
on the occasion of its first capture, Lodovico Sforza was
able with his own forces only to take it from him. For the
very people who had opened the gates to the French King,
when they found themselves deceived in their expectations
and hopes of future benefits, could not put up with the in
solence of their new ruler. True it is that when a State
rebels and is again got under, it will not afterwards be lost
so easily. For the Prince, using the rebellion as a pretext,
will not scruple to secure himself by punishing the guilty,
bringing the suspected to trial, and otherwise strengthening
l.is position in the points where it was weak. So that if to
recover Milan from the French it was enough on the first
occasion that a Duke Lodovico should raise alarms on the
frontiers, to wrest it from them a second time the whole
world had to be ranged against them, and their armies
destroyed and driven out of Italy. And this for the reasons
above assigned. And yet, for a second time, Milan was lost
to the King. The general causes of its first loss have been
shown. It remains to note the causes of the second, and to
point out the remedies which the French King had, or which
might have been used by another in like circumstances to
maintain his conquest more successfully than he did.

I say, then, that those States which upon their acquisition
are joined on to the ancient dominions of the Prince who
/acquires them, are either of the same Province and tongue
f'as the people of these dominions, or they are not. When
they are, there is great ease in retaining them, esp£cjally
when they have not been accustomed to live in freedom. To
ft hold them securely it is-ejiQtigti to_ha.Y£ rooted cut the line of
"' the^rejgning Prmc_e ; because i7"in other respects the old con
dition of things be continued, and there be no discordance
in their customs, men live peaceably with one another, as we
see to have been the case in Brittany, Burgundy, Gascony,
and Normandy, which have so long been united to France.
For although there be some slight difference in their Ian-

10 MACHIAVELLI

guages, their customs are similar, and they can easily get on
.together. He, therefore, who acquires such a State, if he

Q jmean to keep it, must see to two things ; first, that the blood
|of the ancient line of Princes be destroyed; second, that no

/^/change be made in respect of laws or taxes; for in this
jway the newly acquired State speedily becomes incorporated
iwith the hereditary.

But when States are acquired in a country differing in
language, usages, and laws, difficulties multiply, and great
good fortune, as well as address, is needed to overcome them.
One of the best and most efficacious methods for dealing

. •> with such a State, is for the Prince who acquires it to go
and dwell there in person, since this will tend to make his
tenure more secure and lasting. This course has been
followed by the Turk with regard to Greece, who, had he
not, in addition to all his other precautions for securing that
Province, himself come to live in it, could never have kept
his hold of it. For when you are on the spot, disorders are
detected in their beginnings and remedies can be readily
applied ; but when you are at a distance, they are not heard
of until they have gathered strength and the case is past
cure. Moreover, the Province in which you take up your
abode is not pillaged by your officers ; the people are pleased
to have a ready recourse to their Prince; and have all the
more reason if they are well disposed, to love, if dis
affected, to fear him. A foreign enemy desiring to attack
that State would be cautious how he did so. In short^
\yheiie-4jie.^rince_£esides_in p_ersojv_ it^will be extremely"
difficult^ to_ oujst-hirn.

Another excellent expedient is to send colonies into one
or two places, so that these may become, as it were, the
keys of the Province; for you must either do this, or else

,.% keep up a numerous force of men-at-arms and foot soldiers.
A Prince need not spend much on colonies. He can send
them out and support them at little or no charge to himself,
and the only persons to whom he gives offence are those
whom he deprives of their fields and houses to bestow them
on the new inhabitants. Those who are thus injured form
but a small part of the community, and remaining scattered
and poor can never become dangerous. All others being

THE PRINCE -"

left unmolested, are in consequence easily quieted, and at
the same time are afraid to make a false move, lest they
share the fate of those" who have been deprived of their

' possessions. In few words, these colonies cost less than sol
diers, are more faithful, and give less offence, while those
who are offended, being, as I have said, poor and dispersed,

^ cannot hurt. And_Jet_it here,.Jbe_ noted that men are either

(to be kindly treated, or utterly crushed, since they can re
venge lighter injuries, but not graver. Wherefore the injury
we do to a man should be of a sort to leave no fear of
reprisals.

But if instead of colonies you send troops, the cost is

vastly greater, and the whole revenues of the country are

r-> spent in ruarding it; so that the gain becomes a loss, and

: much deeper offence is given ; since in shifting the quarters

of your soldiers from place to place the whole country

suffers hardship, which as all feel, all are made enemies;

and enemies who remaining, although vanquished, in their

own homes, have power to hurt. In every way, therefore,

this_mpde_of_ dejen.ce. Js as disadvantageous as that by

colonizing is useful.

The Prince who establishes himself in a Province whose
laws and language differ from those of his own people,
ought also to make himself the head and protector of his
feebler neighbours, and endeavour to weaken the stronger,
and must see that by no accident shall any other stranger
as powerful as himself find an entrance there. For it will
always happen that some such person will be called in by
those of the Province who are discontented either through
ambition or fear; as we see of old the Romans brought into
Greece by the Aetolians, and in every other country that
they entered, invited there by its inhabitants. And the
usual course of things is that so soon as a formidable
stranger enters a Province, all the weaker powers side with
him, moved thereto by the ill-will they bear towards him
who has hitherto kept them in subjection. So that in respect
of these lesser powers, no trouble is needed to gain them
over, for at once, together, and of their own accord, they
throw in their lot with the government of the stranger. The
new Prince, therefore, has only to see that they do not in-

',

10 MAOHIAVELLI

crease too much in strength, and with his own forces, aided
by their good will, can easily subdue any who are powerful,
so as to remain supreme in the Province. He who does
not manage this matter well, will soon lose whatever he has
gained, and while he retains it will find in it endless troubles
and annoyances.

In dealing with the countries of which they took posses
sion the Romans diligently followed the methods I have
described. They planted colonies, conciliated weaker powers
without adding to their strength, humbled the great, and
never suffered a formidable stranger to acquire influence.
A single example will suffice to show this. In Greece the
Romans took the Achaians and Aetolians into their pay ; the
Macedonian monarchy was humbled ; Antiochus was driven
out. But the services of the Achaians and Aetolians never
obtained for them any addition to their power; no per
suasions on the part of Philip could induce the Romans to
be his friends on the condition of sparing him humiliation;
nor could all the power of Antiochus bring them to consent
to his exercising any authority within that Province. Ami.
in .tJiUjLJictirigJihe Romans did as all wise rulers chould, who
.have^ to consider not only present difficulties but also future,
against which they must use all diligence to provide; for
tTicsepff they be foreseen while yet remote, admit of easy
remedy, but if their approach be awaited, are already past
cure, the disorder having become hopeless ; realizing what
the physicians tell us of hectic fever, that in its beginning
it is easy to cure, but hard to recognize; whereas, after a
time, not having been detected and treated at the first, it
becomes easy to recognize but impossible to cure.

And so it is with State affairs. For the distempers of a
State being discovered while yet inchoate, which can only
be done by a sagacious ruler, may easily be dealt with ; but
when, from not being observed, they are suffered to grow
until they are obvious to every one, there is no longer any
remedy. The Romans, therefore, foreseeing evils while they
were yet far off, always provided against them, and never
suffered them to take their course for the sake of avoiding
war; since they knew that war_isjiot_spj:o__be avoided, but
i> (inly, postponed to the advantage of the other side. They

THE PRINCE

chose, therefore, to make war with Philip and Ai^to them
Greece, that they might not have to make it with thvFor
Italy, although for a while they might h.ive escaped bo'tt
This they did not desire, nor did the maxim leave it to Time,
which the wise men of our own day h'.ve always on their
lips, ever recommend itself to them. vVhat they looked to
enjpyjwere the fruits of their own valour and foresight.
For Time, "driving all things before it, may bring with it
evil as well as good.

But let us now go back to France and examine whether
she has followed any of those methods of which I have
made mention. I shall speak of Louis and not of Charles,
because from the former having held longer possession of
Italy, his manner of acting is more plainly seen. You will
find, then, that he has done the direct opposite of what he
should have done in order to retain a foreign State.

King Louis was brought into Italy by the ambition of the
Venetians, who hoped by his coming to gain for themselves
a half of the State of Lombardy. I will not blame this
coming, nor the part taken by the King, because, desiring
to gain a footing in Italy, where he had no friends, but on
the contrary, owing to the conduct of Charles, every door
was shut against him, he was driven to accept such friend
ships as he could get. And his designs might easily have
succeeded had he not made mistakes in other particulars of
conduct.

By the recovery of Lombardy, Louis at once regained the
credit which Charles had lost. Genoa made submission ; the
Florentines came to terms; the Marquis of Mantua, the
Duke of Ferrara, the Bentivogli, the Countess of Forli, the
Lords of Faenza, Pesaro, Rimini, Camerino, and Piombino,
the citizens of Lucca, Pisa, and Siena, all came forward
offering their friendship. The Venetians, who to obtain
possession of a couple of towns in Lombardy had made the
French King master of two-thirds of Italy, had now cause
to repent the rash game they had played.

Let any one, therefore, consider how easily King Louis
might have maintained his authority in Italy had he observed
the rules which I have noted above, and secured and pro
tected all those friends of his, who being weak, and fearful,

10 MACHIAVELLI

crease totne C\urch, some of the Venetians, were of neces-
by tbobliged to '.attach themselves to him, and with whose
assistance, for tAey were many, he might readily have made
himself safe ag<iinst any other powerful State. But no
sooner was he in Milan than he took a contrary course, in
helping Pope Alexai.-der to occupy Romagna ; not perceiving
that in seconding this enterprise he weakened himself by
alienating friends and those who had thrown themselves
into his arms, while he strengthened the Church by adding
great temporal power to the spiritual power which of itself
confers so mighty an authority. Making this first mistake,
he was forced to follow it up, until at last, in order to curb
the ambition of Pope Alexander, and prevent him becoming
master of Tuscany, he was obliged to come himself into
Italy.

And as though it were not enough for him to have

aggrandized the Church and stripped himself of friends, he

must needs in his desire to possess the Kingdom of Naples,

divide it with the King of Spain ; thus bringing into Italy,

where before he had been supreme, a rival to whom the

ambitious and discontented in that Province might have

recourse. And whereas he might have left in Naples a

King willing to hold as his tributary, he displaced him to

make way for another strong enough to effect his expulsion.

XThej_w.lsh lo^acquire— is_nojdoubt a natural and common

y sentiment, and when men attempt things within their power,

"thjey-^wiii -always be praised rather than blamed. ,JBu£_wJien

_thev_gersist in attempts that are beyond their power, mishaps

ajid bla|me~elTsue] If France, therefore, with her own~Tofces

could have attacked Naples, she should have done so. If

she could not, she ought not to have divided it. And if her

partition of Lombardy with the Venetians may be excused

as the means whereby a footing was gained in Italy, this

other partition is to be condemned as not justified by the

like necessity.

Louis, then, had made these five blunders. He had de
stroyed weaker States, he had strengthened a Prince already
strong, he had brought into the country a very powerful
stranger, he had not come to reside, and he had not sent
colonies. And yet all these blunders might not have proved

THE PRINCE

disastrous to him while he lived, had he not added to them
a sixth in depriving the Venetians of their dominions. For
had he neither aggrandized the Church, nor brought Spain
into Italy, it might have been at once reasonable and neces
sary to humble the Venetians ; but after committing himself
to these other courses, he should never have consented to
the ruin of Venice. For while the Venetians were power
ful they would always have kept others back from an at
tempt on Lombardy, as well because they never would have
agreed to that enterprise on any terms save of themselves
being made its masters, as because others woulc? never have
desired to take it from France in order to hand it over to
them, nor would ever have ventured to defy both. And if
it be said that King Louis ceded Romagna to Alexander,
and Naples to Spain in order to avoid war, I answer that
for the reasons already given, you ought never to suffer
your designs to be crossed in order to avoid war, since wav
is not so to be avoided, but is only deferred to your dis
advantage. And if others should allege the King's promise
to the Pope to undertake that entevprise on his behalf, in
return for the dissolution of his marriage, and for the Car
dinal's hat conferred on d'Amboise, I answer by referring
to what I say further on concerning the faith of Princes
and how it is to be kept.

King Louis, therefore, lost Lombardy from not following
any one of the methods pursued by others who have taken
Provinces with the resolve to keep them. Nor is this any
thing strange, but only what might reasonably and naturally
be looked for. And on this very subject I spoke to d'Am
boise at Nantes, at the time wher Duke Valentino, as Cesare
Borgia, son to Pope Alexander, was vulgarly called, was
occupying Romagna. For, on the Cardinal saying to me that
the Italians did not understand war, I answered that the
French did not understand statecraft, for had they done so,
they never would have allowed the Church to grow so power
ful. And the event shows thai che aggrandizement of the
Church and of Spain in Italy has been brought about by
France, and that the ruin of France has been wrought by
them. Whence we may draw the general axiom, which never
or rarely errs, that he who is the cause of another's greatness

10 MACHIAVELLI

is himself undone, since he must work either by address or
force, each of which excites distrust in the person raised to
power.

CHAPTER IV

WHY THE KINGDOM OF DARIUS, CONQUERED BY ALEXANDER,
DID NOT, ON ALEXANDER'S DEATH, REBEL AGAINST His

SUCCESSORS

ALEXANDER the Great having achieved the conquest of
Asia in a few years, and dying before he had well entered on
possession, it might have been expected, having regard to
the difficulty of preserving newly acquired States, that on
his death the whole country would rise in revolt. Never
theless, his successors were able to keep their hold, and
found in doing so no other difficulty than arose from their
own ambition and mutual jealousies.

If any one think this strange and ask the cause, I answer,
that all the Princedoms of which we have record have been
governed in one or other of two ways, either by a sole
Prince, all others being his servants permitted by his grace
and favour to assist in governing the kingdom as his
\ ministers ; or else, by a Prince with his Barons who hold
their rank, not by the favour of a superior Lord, but by
antiquity of blood, and who have States and subjects of
their own who recognize them as their rulers and entertain
for them a natural affection. States governed by a sole
Prince and by his servants vest in him a more complete
authority ; because throughout the land none but he is re
cognized as sovereign, and if obedience be yielded to any
others, it is yielded as to his ministers and officers for whom
personally no special love is felt.

Of these two forms of government we have examples in
our own days in the Turk and the King of France. The
whole Turkish empire is governed by a sole Prince, all
others being his slaves. Dividing his kingdom into sandjaks,
he sends thither different governors whom he shifts and
changes at his pleasure. The King of France, on the other
hand, is surrounded by a multitude of nobles of ancient
descent, each acknowledged and loved uy subjects of his

THE PRINCE 1?

own, and each asserting a precedence in rank of which ti.e
King can deprive him only at his peril.

He, therefore, who considers the different character of
these two States, will perceive that it would be difficult to'l-.
gain possession of that of the Turk, but that once won it/
might be easily held. The obstacles to its conquest are that
the invader cannot be called in by a native nobility, nor ex
pect his enterprise to be aided by the defection of those
whom the sovereign has around him. And this for the
various reasons already given, namely, that all being slaves
and under obligations they are not easily corrupted, or if
corrupted can render little assistance, being unable, as I
have already explained, to carry the people with them.
Whoever, therefore, attacks the Turk must reckon on find
ing a united people, and must trust rather to his own
strength than to divisions on the other side. But were his
adversary once overcome and defeated in the field, so that
he could not repair his armies, no cause for anxiety would
remain, except in the family of the Prince ; which being
extirpated, there would be none else to fear; for since all
beside are without credit with the people, the invader, as
before his victory he had nothing to hope from them, so
after it has nothing to dread.

But the contrary is the case in kingdoms governed like
that of France, into which, because men who are dis
contented and desirous of change are always to be found,
you may readily procure an entrance by gaining over some
Baron of the Realm. Such persons, for the reasons already
given, are able to open the way to you for the invasion of
their country and to render its conquest easy. But after
wards the effort to hold your ground involves you in endless
difficulties, as well in respect of those who have helped you,
as of those whom you have overthrown. Nor will it be
enough to have destroyed the family of the Prince, since all
those other Lords remain to put themselves at the head of
new movements ; whom being unable either to content or to
destroy, you lose the State whenever occasion serves them.

Now, if you examine the nature of the government of
Darius, you will find that it resembled that of the Turk, and,
consequently, that it was necessary for Alexander, first of

n

/

1* MACHIAVELLI

ail, to defeat him utterly and strip him of his dominions;
after which defeat, Darius having died, the country, for
the causes above explained, was permanently secured to
Alexander. And had his successors continued united they
might have enjoyed it undisturbed, since there arose no
disorders in that kingdom save those of their own creating.

But kingdoms ordered like that of France cannot be re
tained with the same ease. Hence the repeated risings of
Spain, Gaul, and Greece against the Romans, resulting from
the number of small Princedoms of which these Provinces
were made up. For while the memory of these lasted, the
Romans could never think their tenure safe. But when that
memory was worn out by the authority and long continuance
of their rule, they gained a secure hold, and were able
afterwards in their contests among themselves, each to carry
with him some portion of these Provinces, according as each
had acquired influence there; for these, on the extinction of
the line of their old Princes, came to recognize no other
Lords than the Romans.

Bearing all this in mind, no one need wonder at the ease
wherewith Alexander was able to lay a firm hold on Asia,
nor that Pyrrhus and many others found difficulty in pre
serving other acquisitions; since this arose, notfrom the
less or__greater merit^ of jhe Conquerors. buL^TonT the dTF-
ferent character oFthe States with" which- they had to deal.

CHAPTER V

How CITIES OR PROVINCES WHICH BEFORE THEIR ACQUISI
TION HAVE LIVED UNDER THEIR OWN LAWS ARE To BE
GOVERNED

WHEN a newly acquired State has been accustomed, as I

.-.have said, to live under its own laws and in freedom, there

\ fire y^refijnetbods whereby it may be held. The first is to

\ destroy it ; the Second, to go and reside there in person ;

the third, to suffer it to live on under its own laws, subjecting

.•1 it to a tribute, and entrusting its government to a few of

*L>^he inhabitants who will keep the rest your friends. Such a

Government, since it is the creature of the new Prince, will

THE PRINCE 19

see that it cannot stand without his protection and support,
and must therefore do all it can to maintain him; and a
city accustomed to live in freedom, if it is to be preserved
at all, is more easily controlled through its own citizens
than in any other way.

We have examples of all these methods in the histories
of the Spartans and the Romans. The Spartans held
Athens and Thebes by creating oligarchies in these cities,
yet lost them in the end. The Romans, to retain Capua,
Carthage, and Numantia, destroyed them and never lost
them. On the other hand-, when they thought to hold
Greece as the Spartans had held it, leaving it its freedom
and allowing it to be governed by its own laws, they failed,
and had to destroy many cities of that Province before they
could secure it. For, in truth, there is no sure way of hold
ing other than by destroying, and whoever becomes master
of a City accustomed to live in freedom and does not de
stroy it, may reckon on being destroyed by it. For if it
should rebel, it can always screen it.-clf under the name of
liberty and its ancient laws, which no length of time, nor
any benefits conferred will ever cause it to forget) and do
what you will, and take what care you may, unless the in
habitants be scattered and dispersed, this name, and the
old order of things, will never cease to be remembered, but
will at once be turned against you whenever misfortune
overtakes you, as when Pisa rose against the Florentines
after a hundred years of servitude.

If, however, the newly acquired City or Province has
been accustomed to live under a Prince, and his line is ex
tinguished, it will be impossible for the citizens, used, on
the one hand, to obey, and deprived, on the other, of their
old ruler, to agree to choose a leader from among them
selves ; and as they know not how to live as freemen, and
are therefore slow to take up arms, a stranger may readily
gain them over and attach them to his cause. .But in Re
publics thereisa_siiaȣ

thirst for revenge. The memory of their former freedom
will not let them rest; so that the safest course is either to
destroy them, or to go and live in them.

20 MACHIAVELLI

CHAPTER VI

OF NEW PRINCEDOMS WHICH A PRINCE ACQUIRES WITH
His OWN ARMS AND BY MERIT

LET no man marvel if in what I am about to say concern
ing Princedoms wholly new, both as regards the Prince and
the form of Government, I cite the highest examples. For
since men for the most part follow in the footsteps and
imitate the actions of others, and yet are unable to adhere
exactly to those paths which others have taken, or attain
to the virtues of those whom they would resemble, the wise
man should always follow the roads that have been trodden
by the great, and imitate those who have most excelled, so
that if he cannot reach their perfection, he may at least
acquire something of its savour. Acting in this like the
skilful archer, who seeing that the object he would hit is
distant, and knowing the range of his bow, takes aim much
above the destined mark; not designing that his arrow
should strike so high, but that flying high it may alight at
the point intended.

I say, then, that in entirely new Princedoms where the
Prince himself is new, the difficulty of maintaining posses
sion varies with the greater or less ability of him who
acquires possession. And, because the mere fact of a pri
vate person rising to be a Prince presupposes either merit
or good fortune, it will be seen that the presence of one or
other of these two conditions lessens, to some extent, many
difficulties. And yet, he who is less beholden to Fortune
has often in the end the better success; and it may be for
the advantage of a Prince that, from his having no other
territories, he is obliged to reside in person in the State
which he has acquired.

Looking first to those who have become Princes by their
merit and not by their good fortune, I say that the most
excellent among them are Moses, Cyrus, Romulus, Theseus,
and the like. And though perhaps I ought not to name
Moses, he being merely an instrument for carrying out the
Divine commands, he is still to be admired for those qualities
which made him worthy to converse with God. But if we

THE PRINCE 21

consider Cyrus and the others who have acquired or founded
kingdoms, they will all be seen to be admirable. And if
their actions and the particular institutions of which they
were the authors be studied, they will be found not to differ
from those of Moses, instructed though he was by so great
a teacher. Moreover, on examining their lives and actions,
we shall see that they were debtors to Fortune for nothing
beyond the opportunity which enabled them to shape things
as they pleased, without which the force of their spirit
would have been spent in vain ; as on the other hand, op
portunity would have offered itself in vain, had the capacity
for turning it to account been wanting. It was necessary,
therefore, that Moses should find the children of Israel in
bondage in Egypt, and oppressed by the Egyptians, in order
that they might be disposed to follow him, and so escape
from their servitude. It was fortunate for Romulus that
he found no home in Alba, but was exposed at the time of
his birth, to the end that he might become king and founder
of the City of Rome. It was necessary that Cyrus should
find the Persians discontented with the rule of the Medes,
and the Medes enervated and effeminate from a prolonged
peace. Xor could Theseus have displayed his great qualities
had he not found the Athenians disunited and dispersed.
But while it was their opportunities that made these men
fortunate, it was their own merit that enabled them to rec
ognize these opportunities and turn them to account, to the
.glory and prosperity of their country.

They who come to the Princedom, as these did, by virtu
ous paths, acquire with difficulty, but keep with ease. The
difficulties which they have in acquiring arise mainly from
the new laws and institutions which they arc forced to in
troduce in founding and securing their government. And
let it be noted that there is no more delicate matter to take
in hand, nor more dangerous to conduct, nor more doubtful
in its success, than to set up as a leader in the introduction
of changes. For he who innovates will have for his enemies
all those who are well off under the existing order of things,
and only lukewarm supporters in those who might be better
off under the new. This lukewarm temper arises partly
from the fear of adversaries who have the laws on their

22 MACHIAVELLI

side, and partly from the incredulity of mankind, who will
never admit the merit of anything new, until they have seen
it proved by the event. The result, however, is that when
ever the enemies of change make an attack, they do so with
all the zeal of partisans, while the others defend themselves
so feebly as to endanger both themselves and their cause.

But to get a clearer understanding of this part of our
subject, we must look whether these innovators can stand
alone, or whether they depend for aid upon others ; in other
words, whether to carry out their ends they must resort to
entreaty, or can prevail by force. In the former case they
always fare badly and bring nothing to a successful issue;
but when they depend upon their own resources and can em
ploy force, they seldom fail. Hence it comes that all armed
Prophets have been victorious, and all unarmed Prophets have
been destroyed.

For, besides what has been said, it should be borne in
mind that the temper of the multitude is fickle, and that
while it is easy to persuade them of a thing, it is hard to
fix them in that persuasion. Wherefore, matters should be
so ordered that when men no longer believe of their own
accord, they may be compelled to believe by force. Moses,
Cyrus, Theseus, and Romulus could never have made their
ordinances be observed for any length of time had they
been unarmed, as was the case, in our own days, with the
Friar Girolamo Savonarola, whose new institutions came to
nothing so soon as the multitude began to waver in their
faith ; since he had not the means to keep those who had
been believers steadfast in their belief, or to make unbe
lievers believe.

Such persons, therefore, have great difficulty in carrying
out their designs; but all their difficulties are on the road,
and may be overcome by courage. Having conquered these,
and coming to be held in reverence, and having destroyed all
who were jealous of their influence, they remain powerful,
safe, honoured, and prosperous.

To the great examples cited aboA^e , I would add one
other, of less note indeed, but assuredly bearing some pro
portion to them, and which may stand for all others of a like
character. I mean the example of Hiero the Syracusan.

THE PRINCE 25

He from a private station rose to be Prince of Syr -eady
and he too was indebted to Fortune only for his opport.t the
For the Syracusans being oppressed, chose him to be night
Captain, which office he so discharged as deservedly f had
made their King. For even while a private citizen his rsini,
was so remarkable, that one who writes of him sayjould
lacked nothing that a King should have save the King;ting
Doing away with the old army, he organized a new, ar.taly
doned existing alliances and assumed new allies, and wi'<e
an army and allies of his own, was able on that foundation
to build what superstructure he pleased ; having trouble
enough in acquiring, but none in preserving what he had
acquired.

CHAPTER VII

OF NEW PRINCEDOMS ACQUIRED BY THE AID OF OTHERS
AND BY GOOD FORTUNE

THEY who from a private station become Princes by mere
good fortune, do so with little trouble, but have much trouble
to maintain themselves. They meet with no hindrance on
their way, being carried as it were on wings to their desti
nation, but all their difficulties overtake them when they
alight. Of this class are those on whom States are con
ferred either in return for money, or through the favour
of him who confers them; as it happened to many in the
Greek cities of Ionia and the Hellespont to be made Princes
by Darius, that they might hold these cities for his security
and glory; and as happened in the case of those Emperors
who, from privacy, attained the Imperial dignity by cor
rupting the army. Such Princes are wholly dependent on
the favour and fortunes of those who have made them
great, than which supports none could be less stable or
secure; and they lack both the knowledge and the power
that would enable them to maintain their position. They
lack the knowledge, because unless they have great parts
and force of character, it is not to be expected that having
always lived in a private station they should have learned
how to command. They lack the power, since they cannot
look for support from attached and faithful troops. More-

22 MACHIAVELLI

side, o States suddenly acquired, like all else that is produced
never that grows up rapidly, can never have such root or
it pro' as that the first storm which strikes them shall not
ever throw them; unless, indeed, as I have said already, they
all th- thus suddenly become Princes have a capacity for
so feaing quickly how to defend what Fortune has placed in
But lap, and can lay those foundations after they rise
subjedi by others are laid before.

alorjf each of these methods of becoming a Prince, namely,
voy merit and by good fortune, I shall select an instance
from times within my own recollection, and shall take the
cases of Francesco Sforza and Cesare Borgia. By suitable
measures and singular ability, Francesco Sforza rose from
privacy to be Duke of Milan, preserving with little trouble
what it cost him infinite efforts to gain. On the other hand,
Cesare Borgia, vulgarly spoken of as Duke Valentino, ob
tained his Princedom through the favourable fortunes of
his father, and with these lost it, although, so far as in him
lay, he used every effort and practised every expedient that
a prudent and able man should, who desires to strike root
in a State given him by the arms and fortune of another.
For, as I have already said, he who does not lay his founda
tions at first, may, if he be of great parts, succeed in laying
them afterwards, though with inconvenience to the builder
and risk to the building. And if we consider the various
measures taken by Duke Valentino, we shall perceive how
broad were the foundations he had laid whereon to rest his
future power.

These I think it not superfluous to examine, since I know
not what lessons I could teach a new Prince, more useful
than the example of his actions. And if the measures taken
by him did not profit him in the end, it was through no
fault of his, but from the extraordinary and extreme ma
lignity of Fortune.

In his efforts to aggrandize the Duke his son, Alexander
VI had to face many difficulties, both immediate and remote.
In the first place, he saw no way to make him Lord of any
State which was not a State of the Church, while, if he
sought to take for him a State belonging to the Church, he
knew that the Duke of Milan and the Venetians would

THE PRINCE 25

withhold their consent; Faenza and Rimini being already
under the protection of the latter. Further, he saw that the
arms of Italy, and those more especially of which he might
have availed himself, were in the hands of men who had
reason to fear his aggrandizement, that is, of the Orsini,
the Colonnesi, and their followers. These therefore he could
not trust. It was consequently necessary that the existing
order of things should be changed, and the States of Italy
thrown into confusion, in order that he might safely make
himself master of some part of them; and this became easy
for him when he found that the Venetians, moved by other
causes, were plotting to bring the French once more into
Italy. This design he accordingly did not oppose, but
furthered by annulling the first marriage of the French
King.

King Louis therefore came into Italy at the instance of
the Venetians, and with the consent of Pope Alexander, and
no sooner was he in Milan than the Pope got troops from
him to aid him in his enterprise against Romagna, which
Province, moved by the reputation of the French arms,
at once submitted. After thus obtaining possession of Ro
magna, and after quelling the Colonnesi, Duke Valentino was
desirous to follow up and extend his conquests. Two causes,
however, held him back, namely, the doubtful fidelity of
his own forces, and the waywardness of France. For he
feared that the Orsini, of whose arms he had made use,
might fail him, and not merely prove a hindrance to further
acquisitions, but take from him what he had gained, and
that the King might serve him the same turn. How little
he could count on the Orsini was made plain when, after
the capture of Faenza, he turned his arms against Bologna,
and saw how reluctantly they took part in that enterprise.
The King's mind he understood, when, after seizing on the
Dukedom of Urbino, he was about to attack Tuscany ; from
which design Louis compelled him to desist. Whereupon
the Duke resolved to depend no longer on the arms or
fortune of others. His first step, therefore, was to weaken
the factions of the Orsini and Colonnesi in Rome. Those of
their following who were of good birth, he gained over
by making them his own gentlemen, assigning them a

26 MACH1AVELL1

liberal provision, and conferring upon them commands and
appointments suited to their rank ; so that in a few months
their old partisan attachments died out, and the hopes of all
rested on the Duke alone.

He then awaited an occasion to crush the chiefs of the
Orsini, for those of the house of Colonna he had already
scattered, and a good opportunity presenting itself, he turned
it to the best account. For when the Orsini came at last
to see that the greatness of the Duke and the Church in
volved their ruin, they assembled a council at Magione in
the Perugian territory, whence resulted the revolt of Urbino,
commotions in Romagna, and an infinity of dangers to the
Duke, all of which he overcame with the help of France.
His credit thus restored, the Duke trusting no longer either
to the French or to any Cither foreign aid, that he might
not have to confront them openly, resorted to stratagem,
and was so well able to dissemble his designs, that the
Orsini, through the mediation of Signer Paolo (whom he
failed not to secure by every friendly attention, furnishing
him with clothes, money, and horses), were so won over
as to be drawn in their simplicity into his hands at Sinig-
aglia. When the leaders were thus disposed of, and their
followers made his friends, the Duke had laid sufficiently
good foundations for his future power, since he held all
Romagna together with the Dukedom of Urbino, and had
ingratiated himself with the entire population of these
States, who now began to see that they were well off.

And since this part of his conduct merits both attention
and imitation, I shall not pass it over in silence. After the
Duke had taken Romagna, finding that it had been ruled by
feeble Lords, who thought more of plundering than correct
ing their subjects, and gave them more cause for division
than for union, so that the country was overrun with robbery,
tumult, and every kind of outrage, he judged it necessary,
with a view to render it peaceful and obedient to his author
ity, to provide it with a good government. Accordingly he
set over it Messer Remiro d'Orco, a stern and prompt ruler,
who being entrusted with the fullest powers, in a very short
time, and with much credit to himself, restored it to tran
quillity and order. But afterwards apprehending that such

THE PRINCE

29

unlimited authority might become odious, the Duke dec as^
that it was no longer needed, and established in the cei.'ie
of the Province a civil Tribunal, with an excellent President-
in which every town was represented by its advocate. A^e
knowing that past severities had generated ill-feeling agaien
himself, in order to purge the minds of the people and gj^g
their good-will, he sought to show them that any crt.c :,,
which had been done had not originated with him, but in
the harsh disposition of his minister. Availing himself of
the pretext which this afforded, he one morning caused
Remiro to be beheaded, and exposed in the market place
of Cesena with a block and bloody axe by his side. The
barbarity of which spectacle at once astounded and satisfied
the populace.

But, returning to the point -hence we diverged, I say
that the Duke, finding himself fairly strong and in a measure
secured against present dangers, being furnished with arms
of his own choosing and having to a great extent got rid
of those which, if left near him, might have caused him
trouble, had to consider, if he desired to follow up his con
quests, how he was to deal with France, since he saw he
could expect no further support from King Louis, whose
eyes were at last opened to his mistake. He therefore
began to look about for new alliances, and to waver in his
adherence to the French, then occupied with their ex
pedition into the kingdom of Naples against the Spaniards,
at that time laying siege to Gaeta ; his object being to
secure himself against France; and in this he would soon
have succeeded had Alexander lived.

Such was the line he took to meet present exigencies.
As regards the future, he had to apprehend that a new
Head of the Church might not be his friend, and might
even seek to deprive him of what Alexander had given.
This he thought to provide against in four ways. First,
by exterminating all who were of kin to those Lords whom
he had despoiled of their possessions, that they might not
become instruments in the hands of a new Pope. Second,
by gaining over all the Roman nobles, so as to be able with
their help to put a bridle, as the saying is, in the Pope's
mouth. Third, by bringing the College of Cardinals, so

THE PRIXCE 20

he was able if not to make whom he liked Pope, at least
to prevent the election of any whom he disliked, had he
been in health at the time when Alexander died, all would
have been easy for him. But he told me himself on the
day on which Julius II was created, that he had foreseen
and provided for everything else that could happen on his
father's death, but had never anticipated that when his
father died he too should be at death's-door.

Taking all these actions of the Duke together, I can find
no fault with him ; nay, it seems to me reasonable to put
him forward, as I have done, as a pattern for all such as
rise to power by good fortune and the help of others. For
with his great spirit and high aims he could not act other
wise than he did, and nothing but the shortness of his
father's life and his own illness prevented the success of
his designs. Whoever, therefore, on entering a new Prince
dom, judges it necessary to rid himself of enemies, to con
ciliate friends, to prevail by force or fraud, to make himself
feared yet not hated by his subjects, respected and obeyed
by his soldiers, to crush those who can or ought to injure
him, to introduce changes in the old order of things, to
be at once severe and affable, magnanimous and liberal, to
do away with a mutinous army and create a new one, to
maintain relations with Kings and Princes on such a foot
ing that they must see it for their interest to aid him, and
dangerous to offend, can find no brighter example than in ;
the actions of this Prince.

The one thing for which he may be blamed was the
creation of Pope Julius II, in respect of whom he chose-
badly. Because, as I have said already, though he could not*
secure the election he desired, he could have prevented any
other; and he ought never to have consented to the creation
of any one of those Cardinals whom he had injured, or who
on becoming Pope would have reason to fear him; for fear
is as dangerous an enemy as resentment. Those whom he
had offended were, among others, San Pietro ad Vincula,
Colonna, San Giorgio, and Ascanio ; all the rest, excepting
d'Amboise and the Spanish Cardinals (the latter from their
connexion and obligations, the former from the power he
derived through his relations with the French Court), would

30 JMACH1AVKLL1

on assuming the Pontificate have had reason to fear him.
The Duke, therefore, ought, in the first place, to have
laboured for the creation of a Spanish Pope; failing in which,
he should have agreed to the election of d'Amboise, but
never to that of San Pietro ad Vincula. And he deceives
himself who believes that with the great, recent benefits
cause old wrongs to be forgotten.

The Duke, therefore, erred in the part he took in this
election; and his error was the cause of his ultimate down
fall.

CHAPTER VIII
OF THOSE WHO BY THEIR CRIMES COME TO BE PRINCES

BUT since from privacy a man may also rise to be a Prince
in one or other of two ways, neither of which can be referred
wholly either to merit or to fortune, it is fit that I notice
them here, though one of them may fall to be discussed
more fully in treating of Republics.

The ways I speak of are, first, when the ascent to power
is made by paths of wickedness and crime; and second,
when a private person becomes ruler of his country by the
favour of his fellow-citizens. The former method I shall
make clear by two examples, one ancient, the other modern,
without entering further into the merits of the matter, for
jlhese, I think, should be enough for any one who is driven
5to follow them.

Agathocles the Sicilian came, not merely from a private
Station, but from the very dregs of the people, to be King
x)f Syracuse. Son of a potter, through all the stages of his
fortunes he led a foul life. His vices, however, were con
joined with so great vigour both of mind and body, that
becoming a soldier, he rose through the various grades of the
service to be Praetor of Syracuse. Once established in that
post, he resolved to make himself Prince, and to hold by
violence and without obligation to others the authority
which had been spontaneously entrusted to him. Accord
ingly, after imparting his design to Hamilcar, who with
the Carthaginian armies was at that time waging war in
Sicily, he one morning assembled the people and senate of

THE PRINCE 31

Syracuse as though to consult with them on matters of
public moment, and on a preconcerted signal caused his
soldiers to put to death all the senators, and the wealthiest
of the commons. These being thus got rid of, he assumed
and retained possesion of the sovereignty without opposi
tion on the part of the people; and although twice defeated
by the Carthaginians, and afterwards besieged, he was able
not only to defend his city, but leaving a part of his forces
for its protection, to invade Africa with the remainder, and
so in a short time to raise the siege of Syracuse, reducing
the Carthaginians to the utmost extremities, and compelling
them to make terms whereby they abandoned Sicily to him
and confined themselves to Africa.

Whoever examines this man's actions and achievements
will discover little or nothing in them which can be ascribed
to Fortune, seeing, as has already been said, that it was
not through the favour of any, but by the regular steps of
the military service, gained at the cost of a thousand hard
ships and hazards, he reached the princedom which he
afterwards maintained by so many daring and dangerous
enterprises. Still, to slaughter fellow-citizens, to betray
friends, to be devoid of honour, pity, and religion, cannot
be counted as merits, for these are means which may lead
to power, but which confer no glory. Wherefore, if in re
spect of the valour with which he encountered and extricated
himself from difficulties, and the constancy of his spirit in
supporting and conquering adverse fortune, there seems
no reason to judge him inferior to the greatest captains
that have ever lived, his unbridled cruelty and inhumanity,
together with his countless crimes, forbid us to number
him with the greatest men ; but, at any rate, we cannot
attribute to Fortune or to merit what he accomplished with
out either.

In our own times, during the papacy of Alexander VI,
Oliverotto of Fermo, who some years before had been left
an orphan, and had been brought up by his maternal uncle
Giovanni Fogliani, was sent while still a lad to serve under
Paolo Vitelli, in the expectation that a thorough training
under that commander might qualify him for high rank as
a soldier. After the death of Paolo, he served under his

32 MACHTAVELLI

brother Vitellozzo, and in a very short time, being of a
quick wit, hardy and resolute, he became one of the first
soldiers of his company. But thinking it beneath him to
serve under others, with the countenance of the Vitelleschi
and the connivance of certain citizens of Fermo who pre
ferred the slavery to the freedom of their country, he
formed the design to seize on that town.

He accordingly wrote to Giovanni Fogliani that after
many years of absence from home, he desired to see him
and his native city once more, and to look a little into the
condition of his patrimony; and as his one endeavour had
been to make himself a name, in order that his fellow-
citizens might see that his time had not been mis-spent, he
proposed to return honourably attended by a hundred horse
men from among his own friends and followers; and he
begged Giovanni graciously to arrange for his reception
by the citizens of Fermo with corresponding marks of dis
tinction, as this would be creditable not only to himself, but
also to the uncle who had brought him up.

Giovanni accordingly, did not fail in any proper attention
to his nephew, but caused him to be splendidly received by
his fellow-citizens, and lodged him in his house; where
Oliverotto having passed some days, and made the necessary
arrangements for carrying out his wickedness, gave a
formal banquet, to which he invited his uncle and all the
first men of Fermo. When the repast and the other enter
tainments proper to such an occasion had come to an end,
Oliverotto artfully turned the conversation to matters of
grave interest, by speaking of the greatness of Pope Alex
ander and Cesare his son, and of their enterprises; and when
Giovanni and the others were replying to what he said,
he suddenly rose up, observing that these were matters to
be discussed in a more private place, and so withdrew to
another chamber; whither his uncle and all the other citi
zens followed him, and where they had no sooner seated
themselves, than soldiers rushing out from places of con
cealment put Giovanni and all the rest to death.

After this butchery, Oliverotto mounted his horse, rode
through the streets, and besieged the chief magistrate in ,
the palace, so that all were constrained by fear to yield

THE PRINCE 33

obedience and accept a government of which he made him
self the head. And all who from being disaffected were
likely to stand in his way, he put to death, while he strength
ened himself with new ordinances, civil and military, to such
purpose, that for the space of a year during which he re
tained the Princedom, he not merely kept a firm hold of the
city, but grew formidable to all his neighbours. And it
would have been as impossible to unseat him as it was to
unseat Agathocles, had he not let himself be overreached
by Cesare Borgia on the occasion when, as has already been
told, the Orsini and Vitelli were entrapped at Sinigaglia ;
where he too being taken, one year after the commission of
his parricidal crime, was strangled along with Vitellozzo,
whom he had assumed for his master in villany as in
valour.

It may be asked how Agathocles and some like him,
after numberless acts of treachery and cruelty, have been
able to live long in their own country in safety, and to de
fend themselves from foreign enemies, without being plot
ted against by their fellow-citizens, whereas, many others,
by reason of their cruelty, have failed to maintain their
position even in peaceful times, not to speak of the perilous
times of war. I believe that this results from cruelty being
well or ill employed. Those cruelties we may say are well
employed, if it be permitted to speak well of things evil,
which are done once for all under the necessity of self-
preservation, and are not afterwards persisted in, but so far
as possible modified to the advantage of the governed. Ill-
employed cruelties, on the other hand, are those which from
small beginnings increase rather than diminish with time.
They who follow the first of these methods, may, by the
grace of God and man, find, as did Agathocles, that their
condition is not desperate; but by no possibility can the
others maintain themselves.

Hence we may learn the lesson that on seizing a state,
the usurper should make haste to inflict what injuries he
must, at a stroke, that he may not have to renew them
daily, but be enabled by their discontinuance to reassure
mens minds, and afterwards win them over by benefits.
Whosoever, either through timidity or from following bad

ic xxxvi (B)

34 MACH1AVELU

counsels, adopts a contrary course, must keep the sword
always drawn, and can put no trust in his subjects, who
siffering from continued and constantly renewed severities,
will never yield him their confidence. Injuries, therefore,
should be inflicted all at once, that their ill savour being
less lasting may the less offend; whereas, benefits should
be conferred little by little, that so they may be more fully

relished. • «.!.•

But, before all things, a Prince should so live with I
subjects that no vicissitude of good or evil fortune shall
oblige him to alter his behaviour; because, if a need to
change come through adversity, it is then too late to resort
to severity ; while any leniency you may use will be thrown
away, for it will be seen to be compulsory and gam you
no thanks.

CHAPTER IX
OF THE' CIVIL PRINCEDOM

I COME now to the second case, namely, of the leading
citizen who, not by crimes or violence, but by the favour
of his fellow-citizens is made Prince of his country. This
may be called a Civil Princedom, and its attainment depends
not wholly on merit, nor wholly on good fortune, but rather
on what may be termed a fortunate astuteness. I say then
that the road to this Princedom lies either through the
favour of the people or of the nobles. For in every city
are to be found these two opposed humours having their
origin in this, that the people desire not to be domineered
over or oppressed by the nobles, while the nobles desire to
oppress and domineer over the people. And from these two
contrary appetites there arises in cities one of three results,
a Princedom, or Liberty, or Licence. A Princedom is
created either by the people or by the nobles, according as one
or other of these factions has occasion for it. For when
the nobles perceive that they cannot withstand the people,
they set to work to magnify the reputation of one of their
number, and make him their Prince, to the end that under
his shadow they may be enabled to indulge their desires.
The people, on the other hand, when they see that they can-

\

THE PRINCE

not make head against the nobles, invest a single citizen
with all their influence and make him Prince, that they
may have the shelter of his authority.

He who is made Prince by the favour of the nobles,

greater difficulty to maintain himself than he who comes to

the Princedom by aid of the people, since he finds many

ab(')ut him who think themselves as good as he, and wnom,

on1 that account, he cannot guide or govern as he would.

B-Mt he who reaches the Princedom by the popular support,

fir^ds himself alone, with none, or but a very few about him

w iho are not ready to obey. Moreover, the demands of the

ncre enicannot. be satisfied with credit to the Prince, nor with-

oiiie g'jury to others, while those of the people well may,

the opfm of the people being more honourable than that of the

no is £s the latter seeking to oppress, the former not to be

oppressed. Add to this, that a Prince can never secure

hit Wlf against a disaffected people, their number being too

gn'i^at while he may against a disaffected nobility, since

thed'ir 'number is small. The worst that a Prince need fear

fntn-jm a disaffected people is, that they may desert him,

whereas when the nobles are his enemies he has to fear not

oni Uy that they may desert him, but also that they may turn

agidainst him; because, as they have greater craft and fore-

sirfatrht, they always choose their time to suit their safety,

a;itk?d seek favour with the side they think will win. Again,

a je Prince must always live with the same people, but need not

alnc<ways live with the same nobles, being able to make and

uoy nmake these from day to day, and give and take away

thdvieir authority at his pleasure.

hej But to make this part of the matter clearer, I say that
a- s regards the nobles there is this first distinction to be
n lade. They either so govern their conduct as to bind
th 'emselves wholly to your fortunes, or they do not. Those
vHo-v'ho so bind themselves, and who are not grasping, should
I >e loved and honoured. As to those who do not so bind
th -emselves, there is this further distinction. For the most
pailN -t they are held back by pusillanimity and a natural defect
of rcur courage, in which case you should make use of them,
-"•'ctnd of those among them more especially who are prudent,
for they will do you honour in prosperity, and in adver-

36 MACHIAVELLI

sity give you no cause for fear. But where they abstain
from attaching themselves to you of set purpose and for
ambitious ends, it is a sign that they are thinking more
of themselves than of you, and against such men a Prince
should be on his guard, and treat them as though they were
declared enemies, for in his adversity they will always hhlp
to ruin him.

He who becomes a Prince through the favour of the pe o-
ple should always keep on good terms with them ; which ' it
is easy for him to do, since all they ask is not to be oppresse1 d.
But he who against the will of the people is made a Prince
by the favour of the nobles, must, above all thsajrCe*^ to
conciliate the people, which he readily may by tar ' wrow»m
under his protection. For since men who are well , v( yced
by one whom they expected to treat them ill, feel th<\>\\ TC
beholden to their benefactor, the people will at once be^ ne
better disposed to such a Prince when he protects 11$ m,
than if he owed his Princedom to them.

There are many ways in which a Prince may gain t/he
good-will of the people, but, because these vary with cir
cumstances, no certain rule can be laid down respecting
them, and I shall, therefore, say no more about them. E ut
this is the sum of the matter, that it is essential for'"' a
Prince to be on a friendly footing with his people, sinct %
otherwise, he will have no resource in adversity. Nabi'ffs,
Prince of Sparta, was attacked by the whole hosts of Greec . .e,
and by a Roman army flushed with victory, and defende^Vd
his country and crown against them; and when danger ape"
proached, there were but few of his subjects against whom hre<e
needed to guard himself, whereas had the people been hostil ' te,
this would not have been enough.

And what I affirm let no one controvert by citing the ol .Sd
saw that ' he who builds on the people builds on mire,' fc1 *>r
that may be true of a private citizen who presumes on hi°nS
favour with the people, and counts on being rescued by then1?1*
when overpowered by his enemies or by the magistrate jp fs.
In such cases a man may often find himself deceived, Us
happened to the Gracchi in Rome, and in Florence to Mess* . er
Giorgio Scali. But when he who builds on the people is a **
Prince capable of command, of a spirit not to be cast down

THE PRIXCE 37

by ill-fortune, who, while he animates the whole community
by his courage and bearing, neglects no prudent precaution,
he will not find himself betrayed by the people, but will
be seen to have laid his foundations well.

The most critical juncture for Princedoms of this kind,
is at the moment when they are about to pass from the
popular to the absolute form of government: and as these
Princes exercise their authority either directly or through
the agency of the magistrates, in the latter case their posi
tion is weaker and more hazardous, since they are wholly
in the power of those citizens to whom the magistracies
are entrusted, who can, and especially in difficult times, with
the greatest ease deprive them of their authority, either
by opposing, or by not obeying them. And in times of peril
it is too late for a Prince to assume to himself an absolute
authority, for the citizens and subjects who are accustomed
to take their orders from the magistrates, will not when
dangers threaten take them from the Prince, so that at
such seasons there will always be very few in whom he
can trust. Such Princes, therefore, must not build on what
they see in tranquil times when the citizens feel the need
of the State. For then every one is ready to run, to promise,
and, danger of death being remote, even to die for the
State. But in troubled times, when the State has need of its
citizens, few of them are to be found. And the risk of
the experiment is the greater in that it can only be made
once. Wherefore, a wise Prince should devise means where
by his subjects may at all times, whether favourable or
adverse, feel the need of the State and of him, and then
they will always be faithful to him.

CHAPTER X

How THE STRENGTH OF ALL PRINCEDOMS SHOULD BE
MEASURED

IN examining the character of these Princedoms, another
circumstance has to be considered, namely, whether the
Prince is strong enough, if occasion demands, to stand alone,
or whether he needs continual help from others. To make

38 JtaCHlAVELU

die matter dearer, I pronounce those to be able to stand
alone who, \wth the men and money at their disposal, can
get together an army fit to take the field against any as
sailant; and, conversely, I judge those to be in constant
need of help who cannot take the field against their ene
mies, but are obliged to retire behind their walls, and to
icft-.; :..-.. --- .-- :..-.-... _: :..- :".:.:..: I ;-.;.•- .. : — :y
spoken, and shall speak again as occasion may require. As
to the latter there is nothing to be said, except to exhort
such Princes to strengthen and fortify the towns in which
they dwell, and take no heed of the country outside. For
whoever has thoroughly fortified his town, and put himself
on such a footing with his subjects as I have already indi
cated and shall hereafter speak of, will always be attacked
with much circumspection: for men are always averse to
enterprises that are attended with MKntlt^ and it is im
possible not to foresee difficulties in a"a«»Hiig a Prince
whose town is strongly fortified and who is not hated by his
£•_';; e :: s,

. r.f :.•--' : .-•;• t. • ^rr^: free" ~. Havir.z
little territory, they render obedience to the Emperor only
when so disposed, fearing neither him nor any other neigh
bouring power. For they are so fortified that it is plain to
every one that it would be a tedious and «Hfl»r"l»- task to
reduce them, since all of them are protected by moats and
suitable ramparts, are well supplied with artillery, and
keep their public magazines conslaiiUy stored with vict
ual, drink and fuel, enough to last them for a year. Be
sides which, in order to support die poorer class of citizens
v: v : ; .:'.--- •'.-.-; !:.; :.'.=.: ::/:r. :r. -:: :'.-: ;:" rr.ittr :?.'.=
for these to work on for a year, in die handicrafts which
are die life and sinews of such cities, and by which the
common people live. Moreover, they esteem military exer
cises and have many regulations for their maintenance.

.- .-;"•.- - ' •• - - - -; : '-.'-- '^ _=:-; . j ;:v ar. : v;-.: i:^-.

not make himself hated, can not be attacked, or should he
be so, his assailant win come badly off; since human affairs
are so variable that it is ai«f»
keep an army posted in leagu
::

THE PRINCE

the citizens ha ~e possessions outside the town, and see them
burned, they \iill lose patience, and that self-interest, to
gether with the hardships of a protracted siege, will -
them to forget their loyalty; I answer that a c-
courageous Prince will always overcome th
now, by holding out hopes to his subjects thv
not be of long continuance; r
of the enemy's cruelty; and. ae:.
those who seem to him too forward in
Moreover, it is to be expected that :

lay waste the country immediately on their arrival at a
time when mer.'s rr.:r. is are still heate
defence. And for this very reasci

less to fear, because after a fev.- irdcur

has abated, the injury is alreaiy done an 1
not be undone ; and the people will n:
make common cause with their from hi

to be under obligations to : / : - . r.

burned and their la- For it .

nature of men to incur ob'.irati:r. a; much by the it-efts
they render as by those they receive,

\Vherefcre, if the whole matter be well :

ought not to be difficult for a trruier.t ?r:r.:e :
outset and afterwards, to maintain t..e spirits of his
jects during a siege: provided a it victua.: a: j the

other means of defence .do not r

CHAPTER XI
OF ECCLESIASTICAL ?.-:v:i:oii3

IT now only rgBainy-fof-gie^tQ treat dL-£f5'
Princedoms, all the difficulties in respect of which pi :
their acquisition. For they are acquired by
tune, but are maintaine: t either: bei-.e

Tenerable ordinances of Religion, which are all of s
nature and efficacy that they secure the authority cf their
Princes in whatever way they may act or live. These
Princes alone have territories which they do not defend.
and subjects whom they do not govern; yet their territories

40 MACHIAVELLI

are not taken from them through not being ' defended, nor
are their subjects concerned at not being governed, or led
to think of throwing off their allegiance; nor is it in their
power to do so. Accordingly these Princedoms alone are
secure and happy. But inasmuch as they are sustained by
agencies of a higher nature than the mind of man can-
reach, I forbear to speak of them: for since they are set
up and supported by God himself, he would be a rash and
presumptuous man who should venture to discuss them.

Nevertheless, should any one ask me how it comes about
that the temporal power of the Church, which before the
time of Alexander was looked on with contempt by all the
Potentates of Italy, and not only by those so styling them
selves, but by every Baron and Lordling however insignifi
cant, has now reached such a pitch of greatness that the
King of France trembles before it, and that it has been
able to drive him out of Italy and to crush the Venetians;
though the causes be known, it seems to me not superfluous
to call them in some measure to recollection.

Before Charles of France passed into Italy, that country
was under the control of the Pope, the Venetians, the King
of Naples, the Duke of Milan, and the Florentines. Two
chief objects had to be kept in view by all these powers:
first, that no armed foreigner should be allowed to invade
Italy; second, that no one of their own number should be
suffered to extend his territory. Those whom it was espe
cially needed to guard against, were the Pope and the Vene
tians. To hold back the Venetians it was necessary that
all the other States should combine, as was done for the
defence of Ferrara; while to restrain the Pope, use was
made of the Roman Barons, who being divided into two
factions, the Orsini and Colonnesi, had constant cause for
feud with one another, and standing with arms in their
hands under the very eyes of the Pontiff, kept the Popedom
feeble and insecure.

And although there arose from time to time a courageous
Pope like Sixtus, neither his prudence nor his good fortune
could free him from these embarrassments. The cause
whereof was the shortness of the lives of the Popes. For
in the ten years, which was the average duration of a Pope's

THE PRINCE 41

life, he could barely succeed in humbling one of these
factions; so that if, for instance, one Pope had almost
exterminated the Colonnesi, he was followed by another,
who being the enemy of the Orsini had no time to rid
himself of them, but so far from completing the destruction
of the Colonnesi, restored them to life. This led to the
temporal authority of the Popes being little esteemed in
Italy.

Then came Alexander VI, who more than any of his
predecessors showed what a Pope could effect with money
and arms, achieving by the instrumentality of Duke Valen
tino, and by taking advantage of the coming of the French
into Italy, all those successes which I have already noticed
in speaking of the actions of the Duke. And although
his object was to aggrandize, not the Church but the Duke,
what he did turned to the advantage of the Church, which
after his death, and after the Duke had been put out of
the way, became the heir of his labours.

After him came Pope Julius, who found the Church
strengthened by the possession of the whole of Romagnai
and the Roman Barons exhausted and their factions shat
tered under the blows of Pope Alexander. He found also
a way opened for the accumulation of wealth, which before
the time of Alexander no one had followed. These advan
tages Julius not only used but added to. He undertook the
conquest of Bologna, the overthrow of the Venetians, an<a
the expulsion of the French from Italy ; in all which enter
prises he succeeded, and with the greater glory to himself
in that whatever he did, was done to strengthen the Church
and not to aggrandize any private person. He succeeded;
moreover, in keeping the factions of the Orsini and Colon
nesi within the same limits as he found them ; and, though
some seeds of insubordination may still have been left
among them, two causes operated to hold them in check ;
first, the great power of the Church, which overawed them,
and second, their being without Cardinals, who had been
the cause of all their disorders. For these factions while
they have Cardinals among them can never be at rest,
since it is they who foment dissension both in Rome and out
of it, in which the Barons are forced to take part, the

42 MACHIAVELLI

ambition of the Prelates thus giving rise to tumult and dis
cord among the Barons.

His Holiness, Pope Leo, has consequently found the
Papacy most powerful; and from him we may hope, that
as his predecessors made it great with arms, he will render
it still greater and more venerable by his benignity and other
countless virtues.

CHAPTER XII

How MANY DIFFERENT KINDS OF SOLDIERS THERE ARE, AND
OF MERCENARIES

HAVING spoken particularly of all the various kinds of
Princedom whereof at the outset I proposed to treat, consid
ered in some measure what are the causes of their strength
and weakness, and pointed out the methods by which men
commonly seek to acquire them, it now remains that I should
discourse generally concerning the means for attack and
defence of which each of these different kinds of Princedom
may make use.

I have already said that a Prince must lay solid founda
tions, since otherwise he will inevitably be destroyed. Now
the main foundations__o_f_ all States, whether new, old, or
mixed7"are good laws and good arms. But since you cannot
have the former without the latter, and where you have
the latter, are likely to have the former, I shall here omit
all discussion on the subject of laws, and speak only of
arras.

± say then that the arms wherewith a Prince defends his
State are either his own subjects, or they are mercenaries,
or they are auxiliaries, or they are partly one and partly
another. Mercenaries and auxiliaries are at once useless
and dangerous, and he who holds his State by means of
mercenary troops can never be solidly or securely seated.
For such troops are disunited, ambitious, insubordinate,
treacherous, insolent among friends, cowardly before foes,
and without fear of God or faith with man. Whenever they
are attacked defeat follows; so that in peace you are plun
dered by them, in war by your enemies. And this because
they have no tie or motive to keep them in the -field beyond

THE PRINCE 43

their paltry pay, in return for which it would be too much to
expect them to give their lives. They are ready enough,
therefore, to be your soldiers while you are at peace, but
when war is declared they make off and disappear. I ought
to have little difficulty in getting this believed, for the
present ruin of Italy is due to no other cause than her
having for many years trusted to mercenaries, who though
heretofore they may have helped the fortunes of some one
man, and made a show of strength when matched with one
another, have always revealed themselves in their true
colours so soon as foreign enemies appeared. Hence it was
that Charles of France was suffered to conquer Italy with
chalk; and he who said our sins were the cause, said truly,
though it was not the sins he meant, but those which I have
noticed. And as these were the sins of Princes, they it is
who have paid the penalty.

But I desire to demonstrate still more clearly the untoward
character of these forces. Captains of mercenaries are
either able men or they are not. If they are, you cannot
trust them, since they will always seek their own aggrandize
ment, either by overthrowing you who are their master, or
by the overthrow of others contrary to your desire. On the
other hand, if your captain be not an able man the chances
are you will be ruined. And if it be said that whoever has
arms in his hands will act in the same way whether he be
a mercenary or no, I answer that when arms have to be
employed by a Prince or a Republic, the Prince ought to
go in person to take command as captain, the Republic
should send one of her citizens, and if he prove incapable
should change him, but if he prove capable should by the
force of the laws confine him within proper bounds. And
we see from experience that both Princes and Republics
when they depend on their own arms have the greatest
success, whereas from employing mercenaries nothing but
loss results. Moreover, a Republic trusting to her own
forces, is with greater difficulty than one which relies on
foreign arms brought to yield obedience to a single citizen.
Rome and Sparta remained for ages armed and free. The
Swiss are at once the best armed and the freest people in
the world.

44 MACHTAVELLI

Of mercenary arms in ancient times we have an example
in the Carthaginians, who at the close of their first war
with Rome, were well-nigh ruined by their hired troops,
although these were commanded by Carthaginian citizens.
So too, when, on the death of Epaminondas, the Thebans
made Philip of Macedon captain of their army, after gaining
a victory for them, he deprived them of their liberty. The
Milanese, in like manner, when Duke Filippo died, took
Francesco Sforza into their pay to conduct the war against
the Venetians. But he, after defeating the enemy at Cara-
vaggio, combined with them to overthrow the Milanese, his
masters. His father too while in the pay of Giovanna,
Queen of Naples, suddenly left her without troops, obliging
her, in order to save her kingdom, to throw herself into
the arms of the King of Aragon.

And if it be said that in times past the Venetians and the
Florentines have extended their dominions by means of
these arms, and that their captains have served them faith
fully, without seeking to make themselves their masters, I
answer that in this respect the Florentines have been fortu
nate, because among those valiant captains who might have
given them cause for fear, some have not been victorious,
some have had rivals, and some have turned their ambition
in other directions.

Among those not victorious, was Giovanni Acuto, whose
fidelity, since he was unsuccessful, was not put to the proof:
but any one may see, that had he been victorious the Floren
tines must have been entirely in his hands. The Sforzas,
again, had constant rivals in the Bracceschi, so that the one
following was a check upon the other ; moreover, the ambition
of Francesco was directed against Milan, while that of
Braccio was directed against the Church and the kingdom
of Naples. Let us turn, however, to what took place lately.
The Florentines chose for their captain Paolo Vitelli, a
most prudent commander, who had raised himself from
privacy to the highest renown in arms. Had he been suc
cessful in reducing Pisa, none can deny that the Florentines
would have been completely in his power, for they would
have been ruined had he gone over to their enemies, while
if they retained him they must have submitted to his will.

THE PRINCE 45

Again, as to the Venetians, if we consider the growth
of their power, it will be seen that they conducted their
affairs with glory and safety so long as their subjects of
all ranks, gentle and simple alike, valiantly bore arms in
their wars ; as they did before they directed their enterprises
landwards. But when they took to making war by land, they
forsook those methods in which they excelled and were
content to follow the customs of Italy.

At first, indeed, in extending their possessions on the
mainland, having as yet but little territory and being held
in high repute, they had not much to fear from their
captains; but when their territories increased, which they
did under Carmagnola, they were taught their mistake. For
as they had found him a most valiant and skilful leader
when, under his command, they defeated the Duke of Milan,
and, on the other hand, saw him slack in carrying on the
war, they made up their minds that no further victories
were to be had under him ; and because, through fear of
losing what they had gained, they could not discharge him,
to secure themselves against him they were forced to put
him to death. After him they have had for captains,
Bartolommeo of Bergamo, Roberto of San Severino, the
Count of Pitigliano, and the like, under whom their danger
has not been from victories, but from defeats; as, for
instance, at Vaila, where they lost in a single day what it
had taken the efforts of eight hundred years to acquire. For
the gains resulting from mercenary arms are slow, and late,
and inconsiderable, but the losses sudden and astounding.

And since these examples have led me back to Italy, which
for many years past has been defended by mercenary arms,
I desire to go somewhat deeper into the matter, in order
that the causes which led to the adoption of these arms
being seen, they may the more readily be corrected. You
are to understand, then, that when in these later times the
Imperial control began to be rejected by Italy, and the tem
poral power of the Pope to be more thought of, Italy sud
denly split up into a. number of separate States. For many
of the larger cities took up arms against their nobles, who,
with the favour of the Emperor, had before kept them in
subjection, and were supported by the Church with a view

46 MACHIAVELLI

to add to her temporal authority: while in many others of
these cities, private citizens became rulers. Hence Italy,
having passed almost entirely into the hands of the Church
and of certain Republics, the former made up of priests,
the latter of citizens unfamiliar with arms, began to take
foreigners into her pay.

The first who gave reputation to this service was Alberigo
of Conio in Romagna, from whose school of warlike training
descended, among others, Braccio and Sforza, who in their
time were the arbiters of Italy; after whom came all those
others who down to the present hour have held similar com
mands, and to whose merits we owe it that our country has
been overrun by Charles, plundered by Louis, wasted by Fer
dinand, and insulted by the Swiss.

The first object of these mercenaries was to bring foot
soldiers into disrepute, in order to enhance the merit of their
own followers ; and this they did, because lacking territory
of their own and depending on their profession for their
support, a few foot soldiers gave them no importance, while
for a large number they were unable to provide. For these
reasons they had recourse to horsemen, a less retinue of
whom was thought to confer distinction, and could be more
easily maintained. And the matter went to such a length,
that in an army of twenty thousand men, not two thousand
foot soldiers were to be found. Moreover, they spared no
endeavour to relieve themselves and their men from fatigue
and danger, not killing one another in battle, but making
prisoners who were afterwards released without ransom.
They would attack no town by night; those in towns would
make no sortie by night against a besieging army. Their
camps were without rampart or trench. They had no winter
campaigns. All which arrangements were sanctioned by
their military rules, contrived by them, as I have said
already, to escape fatigue and danger; but the result of
which has been to bring Italy into servitude and contempt.

THE PRINCE 47

CHAPTER XIII
OF AUXILIARY, MIXED, AND NATIONAL ARMS

THE second sort of unprofitable arms are auxiliaries, by
whom I mean, troops brought to help and protect you by a
potentate.. w.hom you summon to your aid ; as when in recent
times, Pope Julius II observing the pitiful behaviour of his
mercenaries at the enterprise of Ferrara, betook himself to
auxiliaries, and arranged with Ferdinand of Spain to be
supplied with horse and foot soldiers.

Auxiliaries may be excellent and useful soldiers for them
selves, but are always hurtful to him who calls them in; for
if th__, 0.1 c defeated, he is undone, if_YJ£.ta.r_iQUS, he becomes
their prisoner. Ancient histories abound with instances of
this, but I shall not pass from the example of Pope Julius,
which is still fresh in men's minds. It was the height of
rashness for him, in his eagerness to gain Ferrara, to throw
himself without reserve into the arms of a stranger. Neve*-
theless, his good fortune came to his rescue, and he had nj|B
to reap the fruits of his ill-considered conduct. For after lm
auxiliaries were defeated at Ravenna, the Swiss sudden^B
descended and, to their own surprise and that of every ofll
else, swept the victors out of the country, so that, he neither
remained a prisoner with his enemies, they being put to
flight, nor with his auxiliaries, because victory was won
by other arms than theirs. The Florentines, being wholly
without soldiers of their own, brought ten thousand French
men-at-arms to the siege of Pisa, thereby incurring greater
peril than at any previous time of trouble. To protect him
self from his neighbours, the Emperor of Constantinople
summoned ten thousand Turkish soldiers into Greece, who,
when the war was over, refused to leave, and this was the
beginning of the servitude of Greece to the Infidel.

Let him, therefore, who would deprive himself of every
chance of success, have recourse to auxiliaries, these being
far more dangerous than mercenary arms, bringing ruin
with them ready made. For they jire.jumtecL...and wholly
under the control of their own officers; whereas, before
mercenaries, even after gaining a victory, can do you hurt,

4S MACHIAVELLI

longer time and better opportunities are needed ; because,
as they are made up of separate companies, raised and paid
by you, he whom you place in command cannot at once
acquire such authority over them as will be injurious to you.
In short, with mercenaries your greatest danger is from
their inertness and cowardice, with auxiliaries from their
valour. Wise Princes, therefore, have always eschewed
these arms, and trusted rather to their own, and have pre
ferred defeat with the latter to victory with the former,
counting that as no true victory which is gained by foreign
aid.

I shall never hesitate to cite the example of Cesare Borgia

and his actions. He entered Romagna witli a force of

auxiliaries, all of them French men-at-arms, with whom he

took Imola and Forli. But it appearing to him afterwards

that these troops were not to be trusted, he had recourse

to mercenaries from whom he thought there would be less

danger, and took the Orsini and Vitelli into his pay. But

Janding these likewise while under his command to be fickle,

Btlse, and treacherous, he got rid of them, and fell back on

glfoops of his own raising. And we may readily discern

jfie difference between these various kinds of arms, by ob-

•ferving the different degrees of reputation in which the

;&uke stood while he depended upon the French alone, when

he took the Orsini and Vitelli into his pay, and when he fell

back on his own troops and his own resources ; for we find

his reputation always increasing, and that he was never so

well thought of as when every one perceived him to be sole

master of his own forces.

I am unwilling to leave these examples, drawn from what
has taken place in Italy and in recent times ; and yet I must
not omit to notice the case of Hiero of Syracuse, who is
one of those whom I have already named. He, as I have
before related, being made captain of their armies by the
Syracusans, saw at once that a force of mercenary soldiers,
supplied by men resembling our Italian condottieri, was
not serviceable ; and as he would not retain and could not
disband them, he caused them all to be cut to pieces, and
afterwards made war with native soldiers only, without
other aid.

THE PRINCE 49

And here I would call to mind a passage in the Old Testa
ment as bearing on this point. When David offered him
self to Saul to go forth and fight Goliath the Philistine
champion, Saul to encourage him armed him with his own
armour, which David, so soon as he had put it on, rejected,
saying that with these untried arms he could not prevail,
and that he chose rather to meet his enemy with only his
sling and his sword. In a word, the armour of others is
too wide, or too strait for us; it falls off us, or it weighs
us__dp_wn.

Charles VII, the father of Louis XI, who by his good
fortune and valour freed France from the English, saw this
necessity of stren .ng himself with a national army,

and drew up ordinances regulating the service both of men-
at-arms and of foot soldiers throughout his kingdom. But
afterwards his son. King Louis, did away with the national
infantry, and began to hire Swiss mercenaries. Which
blunder having been followed by subsequent Princes, has
been the cause, as the result shows, of the dangers into
which the kingdom of France has fallen ; for, by enhancing
the reputation of the Swiss, the whole of the national troops
of France have been deteriorated. For from their infantry
being done away with, their men-at-arms are made wholly
dependent on foreign assistance, and being accustomed to
co-operate with the Swiss, have grown to think they can do
nothing without them. Hence the French are no match for
the Swiss, and without them cannot succeed against others.

The armies of France, then, are mixed, being partly
national and partly mercenary. Armies thus composed are
far superior to mere mercenaries or mere auxiliaries, but
far inferior to forces purely national. And this example
is in itself conclusive, for the realm of France would be
invincible if the military ordinances of Charles VII had been
retained and extended. But from want of foresight men
make changes which relishing well at first do not betray
their hidden venom, as I have already observed respecting
hectic fever. Nevertheless, the ruler is not truly wise who
cannot discern evils before they develop themselves, and this
is a faculty given to few.

If we look for the causes which first led to the overthrow

50 MACHIAVELLI

of the Roman Empire, they will be found to have had their

source in the employment of Gothic mercenaries, for from

that hour the strength of the Romans began to wane, and

all the virtue which went from them passed to the Goths.

Vnd, to be brief, I. say that without national arms no

Vincedom is safe, but on the contrary is wholly dependent

\ Fortune, being without the strength that could defend

\n adversity. And it has always been the deliberate

\on of the wise, that nothing is so infirm and fleeting

reputation for power not founded upon a national army,

lich I mean one composed of subjects, citizens, and

dependants, all others being mercenary or auxiliary.

The methods to be followed for organizing a national army
may readily be ascertained, if the rules above, laid down
by me, and by which I abide, be well considered, and atten
tion be given to the manner in which Philip, father of
Alexander the Great, and many other Princes and Republics
have armed and disposed their forces.

CHAPTER XIV
OP THE DUTY OP A PRINCE IN RESPECT OF MILITARY AFFAIRS

A PRINCE, therefore, should have no care or thought but
for war, and for the regulations and training it requires,
and should apply himself exclusively to this as his peculiar
province ; for war is the sole art looked for in one who rules,
and is of such efficacy that it not merely maintains those
who are born Princes, but often enables men to rise to that
eminence from a private station ; while, on the other hand,
we often see that when Princes devote themselves rather to
pleasure than to arms, they lose their dominions. And as
neglect of this art is the prime cause of such calamities, so
to be a proficient in it is the surest way to acquire power.
Francesco Sforza, from his renown in arms, rose from
privacy to be Duke of Milan, while his descendants, seeking
to avoid the hardships and fatigues of military life, from
being Princes fell back into privacy. For among other
causes of misfortune which your not being armed brings
upon you, it makes you despised, and this is one of those

THE PRINCE 51

reproaches against which, as shall presently be explained, a
Prince ought most carefully to guard.

Between an armed and an unarmed man no proportion
holds, and it is contrary to reason to expect that the armed
man should voluntarily submit to him who is unarmed, or that
the unarmed man should stand secure among armed retainers.
For with contempt on one side, and distrust on the other,
it is impossible that men should work well together. Where
fore, as has already been said, a Prince who is ignorant of
military affai, , besides other disadvantages, can neither be
respected by 1 s soldiers, nor can he trust them. A Prince,
therefore, oug :t never to allow his attention to be diverted
from warlike pursuits, and should occupy himself with them
even more in peace than in war. This he can do in two
ways, by practice or by study.

As to the practice, he ought, besides keeping his soldiers
well trained and disciplined, to he constantly engaged in the
chase, that he may inure his body to hardships and fatigue,
and gain at the same time a knowlege of places, by observing
how the mountains slope, the valleys open, and the plains
spread; acquainting himself with the characters of rivers
and marshes, and giving the greatest attention to this sub
ject. Such knowedge is useful to him in two ways; for
first, he learns thereby to know his own country, and to un
derstand better how it may be defended; and next, from
his familiar acquaintance with its localities, he readily com
prehends the character of other districts when obliged to
observe them for the first time. For the hills, valleys, plains,
rivers, and marshes of Tuscany, for example, have a certain
resemblance to those elsewhere; so that from a knowledge
of the natural features of that province, similar knowledge
in respect of other provinces may readily be gained. The
Prince who is wanting in this kind of knowledge, is wanting
in the first qualification of a good captain, for by it he is
taught how to surprise an enemy, how to choose an encamp
ment, how to lead his army on a march, how to array it for
battle, and how to post it to the best advantage for a siege.

Among the commendations which Philopoemon, Prince
of the Achaians, has received from historians is this — that
in times of peace he was always thinking of methods of

52 MACHIAVELLI

warfare, so that when walking in the country with his
friends he would often stop and talk with them on the sub
ject. ' If the enemy,' he would say, ' were posted on that
hill, and we found ourselves here with our army, which of
us would have the better position? How could we most
safely and in the best order advance to meet them? If we
had to retreat, what direction should we take? If they re
tired, how should we pursue?' In this way he put to his
friends, as he went along, all the contingencies that can
befall an army. He listened to their opinions, stated his
own, and supported them with reasons; and from his being
constantly occupied with such meditations, it resulted, that
when in actual command no complication could ever present
itself with which he was not prepared to deal.

As to the mental training of which we have spoken, a
Prince should read, histories, and in these should note the
actions of great men, observe how they conducted themselves
in their wars, and examine the causes of their victories and
defeats, so as to avoid the latter and imitate them in the
former. And above all, he should, as many great men of
past ages have done, assume for his models those persons
who before his time have been renowned and celebrated,
whose deeds and achievements he should constantly keep in
mind, as it is related that Alexander the Great sought to
resemble Achilles, Caesar Alexander, and Scipio Cyrus. And
any one who reads the life of this last-named hero, written
by Xenophon, recognizes afterwards in the life of Scipio,
how much this imitation was the source of his glory, anJ
how nearly in his chastity, affability, kindliness, and gener
osity, he conformed to the character of Cyrus as Xenophon
describes it.

A wise Prince, therefore, should pursue such methods as

r these, never resting idle in times of peace, but strenuously

seeking to turn them to account, so that he may derive

strength from them in the hour of danger, and find himself

ready should Fortune turn against him, to resist her blows.

THE PRINCE S3

CHAPTER XV

OF THE QUALITIES IN RESPECT OF WHICH MEN, AND MOST
OF ALL PRINCES, ARE PRAISED OR BLAMED

IT now remains for us to consider what ought to be
the conduct and bearing of a Prince in relation to his sub
jects and friends. And since I know that many have writ
ten on this subject, I fear it may be" thought presump
tuous in me to write of it also; the more so, because in
my treatment of it I depart from the views that others
have taken.

But since it is my object to write what shall be useful
to whosoever understands it, it seems to me better to follow
the real truth of things than an imaginary view of "them.
For many Republics and Princedoms have been imagined
that were never seen or known to exist in reality. And the
manner in which we live, anfr that in which we ought to
live, are things so wide asunder, that he who quits the one
to betake himself to the other is more likely to destroy than
to save himself; since any one who would act up to a
perfect standard of goodness in everything, must be ruined
among so many who are not good. It is essential, therefore,
for a Prince who desires to maintain his position, to have
learned how to be other than good, and to use or not to use
his goodness as necessity requires.

Laying aside, therefore, all fanciful notions concerning a
Prince, and considering those only that are true, I sa\v that
all men when they are spoken of, and Princes more than
others from their being set so high, are characterized by
some one of those qualities which attach either praise or
blame. Thus one is accounted liberal, another miserly
(which word I use, rather than avaricious, to denote the
man who is too sparing of what is his own, ai'arice being
the disposition to take wrongfully what is another's) ; one is
generous, another greedy ; one cruel, another tender-hearted ;
one is faithless, another true to his word; one effeminate
and cowardly, another high-spirited and courageous ; one is
courteous, another haughty ; one impure, another chaste ;
one simple, another crafty; one firm, another facile; one

54 MACHIAVELLI

grave, another frivolous; one devout, another unbelieving;
and the like. Every one, I know, will admit that it would
be most laudable for a Prince to be endowed with all of the
above qualities that are reckoned good; but since it is im
possible for him to possess or constantly practise them all,
the conditions of human nature not allowing it, he must be
discreet enough to know how to avoid the infamy of those
vices that would deprive him of his government, and, if
possible, be on his guard also against those which might
not deprive him of it; though if he cannot wholly restrain
himself, he may with less scruple indulge in the latter. He
need never hesitate, however, to incur the reproach of those
vices without which his authority can hardly be preserved;
for if he well consider the whole matter, he will find that
there may be a line of conduct having the appearance of
virtue, to follow which would be his ruin, and that there
may be another course having the appearance of vice, by
following which his safety and well-being are secured.

BEGINNING, then, with the first of the qualities above no
ticed, I say that it may be a good thing to be reputed liberal,
but, nevertheless, that liberality without the reputation of it
is hurtful ; because, though it be worthily and rightly used,
still if it be not known, you escape not the reproach of its
opposite vice. Hence, to have credit for liberality with the
world at large, you must neglect no circumstance of sumptu
ous display; the result being, that a Prince of a liberal dispo
sition will consume his whole substance in things of this
sort, and, after all, be obliged, if he would maintain his repu
tation for liberality, to burden his subjects with extraor
dinary taxes, and to resort to confiscations and all the
other shifts whereby money is raised. But in this way he
becomes hateful to his subjects, and growing impoverished
is held in little esteem by any. So that in the end, having
by his liberality offended many and obliged few, he is worse
off than when he began, and is exposed to all his original

THE PRINCE 55

dangers. Recognizing this, and endeavouring to retrace his
steps, he at once incurs the infamy of miserliness.

A Prince, therefore, since he cannot without injury to
himself practise the virtue of liberality so that it may be
known, will not, if he be wise, greatly concern himself though
he be called miserly. Because in time he will come to be
regarded as more and more liberal, when it is seen that
through his parsimony his revenues are sufficient; that he
is able to defend himself against any who make war on him;
that he can engage in enterprises against others without
burdening his subjects; and thus exercise liberality towards
all from whom he does not take, whose number is infinite,
while he is miserly in respect of those only to whom he does
not give, whose number is few.

In our own days we have seen no Princes accomplish great
results save those who have been accounted miserly. All
others have been ruined. Pope Julius II, after availing
himself of his reputation for liberality to arrive at the
Papacy, made no effort to preserve that reputation when
making war on the King of France, but carried on all his
numerous campaigns without levying from his subjects a
single extraordinary tax, providing for the increased ex
penditure out of his long-continued savings. Had the present
King of Spain been accounted liberal, he never could have
engaged or succeeded in so many enterprises.

A^Prince, therefore, if he is enabled thereby to forbear
from plundering his subjects, to defend himself, to escape
poverty and contempt, and the necessity of becoming rapa
cious, ought to care little though he incur the reproach of
miserliness, fpr_-ihis_is one of tfiqsejyicesjwhich ^enable him
to -teign.

And should any object that Caesar by his liberality rose to
power, and that many others have been advanced 4o the
highest dignities from their having been liberal and so re
puted, I reply, ' Either you are already a Prince or you seek
to become one ; iri~IHe~iorTTreT"~cas"e liberality is hurtful, in
the latter it Is very necessary that you be thought liberal ;
Caesar was one of those who sought the sovereignty of
Rome; but if after obtaining it he had lived on without re
trenching his expenditure, he must have ruined the Empire/

56 MACHIAVELLI

And if it be further urged that many Princes reputed to
have been most liberal have achieved great things with their
armies, I answer that a Prince spends either what belongs to
himself and his subjects, or 'what belongs to others; and
that in the former case he ought to be sparing, but in the
latter ought not to refrain from any kind of liberality. Be
cause for a Prince who leads his armies in person and main
tains them by plunder, pillage, and forced contributions,
dealing as he does with the property of others this liberality
is necessary, since otherwise he would not be followed by
his soldiers. Of what does not belong to you or to your
subjects you should, therefore, be a lavish giver, as were
Cyrus, Caesar, and Alexander; for to be liberal with the
property of others does not take from your reputation,
but adds to it. What injures you is to give away what
is your own. And there is no quality so self-destructive
as liberality ; for while you practise it you lose the means
whereby it can be practised, and become poor and de
spised, or else, to avoid poverty, you become rapacious and
hated. For liberality leads to one or other of these two
results, against which, beyond all others, a Prince should
guard.

Wherefore it is wiser to put up with the name of being
miserly, which breeds ignominy, but without hate, than to
be obliged, from the desire to be reckoned liberal, to incur
the reproach of rapacity, which breeds hate as well as igno
miny.

CHAPTER XVII

OF CRUELTY AND CLEMENCY, AND WHETHER IT Is BETTER
To BE LOVED OR FEARED

PASSING to the other qualities above referred to, I say that
every Prince should desire to be accounted merciful and not
cruel. Nevertheless, he should be on his guard against the
abuse of this quality of mercy. Cesare Borgia was reputed
cruel, yet his cruelty restored Romagna, united it, and
brought it to order and obedience; so that if we look at
things in their true light, it will be seen that he was in
reality far more merciful than the people of Florence, who,

THE PRINCE 57

to avoid the imputation of cruelty, suffered Pistoja to be
torn to pieces by factions.

A Prince should therefore disregard the reproach of being
thought cruel where it enables him to keep his subjects
united and obedient. For he who quells disorder by a very
few signal examples will in the end be more merciful than he
who from too great leniency permits things to take their
course and so to result in rapine and bloodshed; for these
hurt the whole State, whereas the severities of the Prince
injure individuals only.

And for a new Prince, of all others, it is impossible to
escape a name for cruelty, since new States are full of dan
gers. Wherefore Virgil, by the mouth of Dido, excuses
the harshness of her reign on the plea that it was new, say
ing:—

' A fate unkind, and newness in my reign
Compel me thus to guard a wide domain."

Nevertheless, the new Prince should not be too ready of
belief, nor too easily set in motion; nor should he himself
be the first to raise alarms ; but should so temper prudence
with kindliness that too great confidence in others shall not
throw him off his guard, nor groundless distrust render him
insupportable.

And here comes in the question whether it is better to be
loved rather than feared, or feared rather than loved. It
might perhaps be answered that we should wish to be both;
but since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we
must choose between them, it is j:ar_safer to be feared than
loved. For of men it may generally be affirmed that they?
are thankless, fickle, false, studious to avoid danger, greedyj
of gain, devoted to you while you are able to confer benefits
upon them, and ready, as I said before, while danger is
distant, to shed their blood, and sacrifice their property,
their lives, and their children for you; but in the hour of
need they turn against you. The Prince, therefore, who
without otherwise securing himself builds wholly on their
professions is undone. For the friendships which we buy
with a price, and do not gain by greatness and nobility of
character, though they be fairly earned are not made good,
but fail us when we have occasion to use them.

58 MACHIAVELLI

Moreover, men are less careful how they offend him who
makes himself loved than him who makes himself feared.
For love is held by the tie of obligation, which, because men
are a sorry breed, is broken on every whisper of private
interest ; but fear is bound by the apprehension of punish
ment which never relaxes its grasp.

Nevertheless a Prince should inspire fear in such a
fashion that if he do not win love he may escape hate. For
a man may very well be feared and yet not hated, and this
will be the case so long as he does not meddle with the
property or with the women of his citizens and subjects.
And if constrained to put any to death, he should do so only
when there is manifest cause or reasonable justification.
But, above all, he must abstain from the property of others.
•jFor men will sooner forget the death of their father than
(the loss of their patrimony. Moreover, pretexts for con
fiscation are never to seek, and he who has once begun to
live by rapine always finds reasons for taking what is not
his ; whereas reasons for shedding blood are fewer, and
sooner exhausted.

But when a Prince is with his army, and has many soldiers
under his command, he must needs disregard the reproach
of cruelty, for without such a reputation in its Captain, no
army can be held together or kept under any kind of control.
Among other things remarkable in Hannibal this has been
noted, that having a very great army, made up of men of
many different nations and brought to fight in a foreign
country, no dissension ever arose among the soldiers them
selves, nor any mutiny against their leader, either in his
good or in his evil fortunes. This we can only ascribe to
the transcendent cruelty, which, joined with numberless
great qualities, rendered him at once venerable and terrible
in the eyes of his soldiers ; for without this reputation for
cruelty these other virtues would not have produced the like
results.

Unreflecting writers, indeed, while they praise his achieve
ments, have condemned the chief cause of them ; but that his
other merits would not by themselves have been so effica
cious we may see from the case of Scipio, one of the greatest
Captains, not of his own time only but of all times of which

THE ^RINCE 59

we have record, whose anr..es rose against him in Spain
from no other cause than his too great leniency in allowing
them a freedom inconsistent with military strictness. With
which weakness Fabius Maximus taxed him in the Senate
House, calling him the corrupter of the Roman soldiery.
Again, when the Locrians were shamefully outraged by one
of his lieutenants, he neither avenged them, nor punished
the insolence of his officer; and this from the natural easi
ness of his disposition. So that it was said in the Senate
by one who sought to excuse him, that there were many who
knew better how to refrain from doing wrong themselves
than how to correct the wrong-doing of others. This temper,
however, must in time have marred the name and fame even
of Scipio, had he continued in it, and retained his command.
But living as he did under the control of the Senate, this
hurtful quality was not merely disguised, but came to be
regarded as a glory.

/ Returning to the question of being loved or feared, I sum
/up"By~ saying, that since his being loved depends upon his
| subjects, while his being feared depends upon himself, a
I wise Prince should build on what is his own, and not on
1 what rests with others. Only, as I have said, he must do
; his utmost to escape hatred

CHAPTER XVIII

How PRINCES SHOULD KEEP FAITH

EVERY one understands how praiseworthy it is in a Prince
to keep faith, and to live uprightly and not craftily. Never
theless, we see from what has taken place in our own days
that Princes who have set little store by their word, but
have known how to overreach men by their cunning, have
accomplished great things, and in the end got the better of
those who trusted to honest dealing.

Be it known, then, that there are two ways of contending,
one in accordance with the laws, the other by force ; the first
of which is proper to men, the second to beasts. But since
the first method is often ineffectual, it becomes necessary to
resort to the second. A Prince should, therefore, understand

, 60 > MACHU'VELLI

'k^'

how to use well both the man a/id the beast. And this lesson
has been covertly taught by the ancient writers, who relate
how Achilles and many others of these old Princes were
given over to be brought up and trained by Chiron the
Centaur; since the only meaning of their having for in
structor one who was half man and half beast is, that it is
necessary for a Prince to know how to use both natures, and
that the one without the other has no stability.

But since a Prince should know how to use the beast's
nature wisely, he ought of beasts to choose both the lion
and the fox; for the lion cannot guard himself from the
toils,' nor the fox from wolves. He must therefore be a fox
to discern toils, and a lion to drive off wolves.

To rely wholly on the lion is unwise ; and for this reason
a prudent Prince neither can nor ought to keep his word
when to keep it is hurtful to him and the causes which led
him to pledge it are removed. If all men were good, this
VvOuld not be good advice, but since they are dishonest and
do not keep faith with you, you, in return, need not keep
faith with them; and no prince was ever at a loss for
plausible "reasons to cloak a breach of faith. Of this num-!
berless recent instances could be given, and it might be
shown how many solemn treaties and engagements have
been rendered inoperative and idle through want of faith in
Princes, and that he who was best known to play the fox
has had the best success.

It is necessary, indeed, to put a good colour on this nature,
and to be skilful in simulating and dissembling. But men
are so simple, and governed so absolutely by their present
needs, that he who wishes to deceive will never fail in find
ing willing dupes. One recent example I will not omit.
Pope Alexander VI had no care or thought but how to de
ceive, and always found material to work on. No man ever
had a more effective manner of asseverating, or made prom
ises with more solemn protestations, or observed them less.
And yet, because he understood this side of human nature,
his frauds always succeeded.

It is not essential, then, that a Prince should have all the
good qualities which I have enumerated above, but it is most
essential that he should seem to have them; I will even

THE PRINCE 61

venture to affirm that if he has and invariably practises
them all, they are hurtful, whereas the appearance of having
them is useful. Thus, it is well to seem merciful faithful
humane, religious, and upright, and also to be so- but the
mind should remain so balanced that were it needful not to
be so, you should be able and know how to change to the
contrary.

And you are to understand that a Prince, and most of all
a new Prince, cannot observe all those rules of conduct in
respect whereof men are accounted good, being often forced
in order to preserve his Princedom, to act in opposition to
good faith, charity, humanity, and religion. He must there
fore keep his mind ready to shift as the winds and tides of
Fortune turn, and, as I have already said, he ought not to
quit good courses if he can help it, but should know how to
follow evil courses if he must.

A Prince should therefore be very careful that nothing
ever escapes his lips which is not replete with the five
qualities above named, so that to see and hear him one)
would think him the embodiment of mercy, good faith >
integrity, humanity, and religion. And there is no virtue
which it is more necessary for him to seem to possess than
; because men in general judge rather by the eye
than by the hand, for every one can see but few can touch
v one sees \vhat_yj3u seem, but few know wh

_

-^^-^L_yi£se_few dare not oppose themselves to the
opinion of the many who have the majesty of the State to
back them up.

Moreover, in the actions of all men, and most of all of
Princes where there is no tribunal to which we can appeal
we look to results. Wherefore if a Prince succeeds in
ishmg and maintaining his authority, the means will
always be judged honourable and be approved by every one

r the vulgar are always taken by appearances and by re
sults, and the world is made up of the vulgar, the few only
finding room when the many have no longer ground to
stand on.

A certain Prince of our own days, whose name it is as
we! I not to mention, is always preaching peace and good
faith, although the mortal enemy of both; and both had

62 MACHIAVELL1

he practised them as he preaches them, would, oftener than
once, have lost him his kingdom and authority.

CHAPTER XIX

THAT A PRINCE SHOULD SEEK To ESCAPE CONTEMPT
AND HATRED

HAVING now spoken of the chief of the qualities above re
ferred to, the rest I shall dispose of briefly with these gen
eral remarks, that a Prince, as has already in part been said,
should consider how he may avoid such courses as would
make him hated or despised ; and that whenever he succeeds
in keeping clear of these, he has performed his part, and
runs no risk though he incur other infamies,

A Prince, as I have said before, sooner becomes hated by
being rapacious and by interfering with the property and
with the women of his subjects, than in any other way.
From these, therefore, he should abstain. For so long as
neither their property nor their honour is touched, the mass
of mankind live contentedly, and the Prince has only to cope
with the ambition of a few, which can in many ways and
easily be kept within bounds.

A Prince is despised when he is seen to be fickle, frivolous,
effeminate, pusillanimous, or irresolute, against which de
fects he ought therefore most carefully to guard, striving
so to bear himself that greatness, courage, wisdom, and
strength may appear in all his actions. In his private deal
ings with his subjects his decisions should be irrevocable,
and his reputation such that no one would dream of over
reaching or cajoling him.

The Prince who inspires such an opinion of himself is
greatly esteemed, and against one who is greatly esteemed
conspiracy is difficult ; nor, when he is known to be an^ ex
cellent Prince and held in reverence by his subjects, will it
be easy to attack him. For a Prince is exposed to two dan
gers, from within in respect of his subjects, from without in
respect of foreign powers. Against the latter he will defend
himself with good arms and good allies, and if he have good
arms he will always have good allies ; and when things are

THE PRINCE

settled abroad, they will always be settled at home, unless
disturbed by conspiracies ; and even should there be hostility
from without, if he has taken those measures, and has lived
in the way I have recommended, and if he never abandons
hope, he will withstand every attack; as I have said was
done by Nabis the Spartan.

As regards his own subjects, when affairs are quiet abroad,
he has to fear they may engage in secret plots ; against which
a Prince best secures himself when he escapes being hated
or despised, and keeps on good terms with his people ; and
this, as I have already shown at length, it is essential he
should do. Not to be hated or despised by the body of his
subjects, is one of the surest safeguards that a Prince can
have against conspiracy. For he who conspires always
reckons on pleasing the people by putting the Prince to
death; but when he sees that instead of pleasing he will
offend them, he cannot summon courage to carry out
his design. For the difficulties that attend conspirators
are infinite, and we know from experience that while
there have been many conspiracies, few of them have
succeeded.

He who conspires cannot do so alone, nor can he assume
as his companions any save those whom he believes to be
discontented; but so soon as you impart your design to a
discontented man, you supply him with the means of remov
ing his discontent, since by betraying you he can procure
for himself every advantage; so that seeing on the one hand
certain gain, and on the other a doubtful and dangerous risk,
he must either be a rare friend to you, or the mortal enemy
of his Prince, if he keep your secret.

To put the matter shortly, I say that on the side of the
conspirator there are distrust, jealousy, and dread of punish
ment to deter him, while on the side of the Prince there are
the laws, the majesty of the throne, the protection of friends
and of the government to defend him; to which if the gen
eral good-will of the people be added, it is hardly possible
that any should be rash enough to conspire. For while in
ordinary cases, the conspirator has ground for fear only be
fore the execution of his villainy, in this case he has also
cause to fear after the crime has been perpetrated since

64 MACHIAVELLI

he has the people for his enemy, and is thus cut off from
every hope of shelter.

Of this, endless instances might be given, but I shall con
tent myself with one that happened within the recollection
of our fathers. Messer Annibale Bentivoglio, Lord of Bo
logna and grandfather of the present Messer Annibale, was
conspired against and murdered by the Canneschi, leaving
behind none belonging to him save Messer Giovanni, then
an infant in arms. Immediately upon the murder, the people
rose and put all the Canneschi to death. This resulted from
the general goodwill with which the House of the Bentivogli
was then regarded in Bologna ; which feeling was so strong,
that when upon the death of Messer Annibale no one was
left who could govern the State, there being reason to be
lieve that a descendant of the family (who up to that time
had been thought to be the son of a smith), was living in
Florence, the citizens of Bologna came there for him, and
entrusted him with the government of their city ; which he
retained until Messer Giovanni was old enough to govern.

To be brief, a Prince has little to fear from conspiracies
when his subjects are well disposed towards him; but when
they are hostile and hold him in detestation, he has then
reason to fear everything and every one. And well ordered
States and wise Princes have provided with extreme care
that the nobility shall not be driven to desperation, and that
the commons shall be kept satisfied and contented; for this
is one of the most important matters that a Prince has to
look to.

Among the well ordeced and governed Kingdoms of our
day is that of France, wherein we find an infinite number of
wise institutions, upon which depend the freedom and the
security of the King, and of which the most important are
the Parliament and its authority. For he who gave its con
stitution to this Realm, knowing the ambition and arrogance
of the nobles, and judging it necessary to bridle and restrain
them, and on the other hand knowing the hatred, originating
in fear, entertained against them by the commons, and de
siring that they should be safe, was unwilling that the
responsibility for this should rest on the King; and to re
lieve him of the ill-will which he might incur with the nobles

THE PRINCE 65

by favouring the commons, cr with the commons by favour
ing the nobles, appointed a third party to be arbitrator, who
without committing the King, might depress the nobles and
uphold the commons. Nor could there be any better, wiser,
or surer safeguard for the King and the Kingdom. And
hence we may draw another notable lesson, namely, that
Princes should devolve on others those matters that entail
responsibility, and reserve to themselves those that relate
to grace and favour. And again I say that a Prince should
esteem the great, but must not make himself odious to the
people.

To some it may perhaps appear, that if the lives and deaths
of many of the Roman Emperors be considered, they offer
examples opposed to the views expressed by me; since we
find that some among them who had always lived good lives,
and shown themselves possessed of great qualities, were'
nevertheless deposed and even put to death by their subjects
who had conspired against them.

In answer to such objections, I shall examine the char
acters of several Emperors, and show that the causes of their
downfall were in no way different from those which I have
indicated. In doing this I shall submit for consideration
such matters only as must strike every one who reads the
history of these times; and it will be enough for my purpose
to take those Emperors who reigned from the time of Marcus
the Philosopher to the time of Maximinus, who were in
clusively, Marcus, Commodus his son, Pertinax, Julianus,
Severus, Caracalla his son, Macrinus, Heliogabalus, Alex
ander, and Maximinus.

In the first place, then, we have to note that while in other
Princedoms the Prince has only to contend with the ambition
2 nobles and the insubordination of the people the
Roman Emperors had a further difficulty to encounter in the
:ruelty and rapacity of their soldiers, which were so dis
tracting as to cause the ruin of many of these Princes For
t was hardly possible for them to satisfy both the soldiers
and the people; the latter loving peace and therefore prefer
ring sober Princes, while the former preferred a Prince of
a warlike spirit, however harsh, haughty, or rapacious- being
willing that he should exercise these qualities against the

HC XXXVI

fc)

gg MACHIAVELLI

people, as the means of procuring for themselves double

* *• , i • it. „:<. ^-^ooA cinrl rmeltv.

.

incited or won for themselves such authority as enabled
hem to keep both people and soldiers in check, were always
ruined The most of them, and those especially -ho came o
[he Empire new and without experience, seeing the difficulty
of deTg with these conflicting humours, set themselves
to saUsfy the soldiers, and made little account of offending
ok And for them this was a necessary course to

'

tions within bounds, and ^-^U of the
But Pertinax was chosen Empe or a? M under

soldiery, who being accustomed * a£C£ cipline to which
Commodus, could not tolerate the ^tncter disap ^

THE PRINCE 67

when the class, be it the people, the soldiers, or the nobles,
on whom you judge it necessary to rely for your support, is
corrupt, you must needs adapt yourself to its humours, and
satisfy these, in which case virtuous conduct will only prej
udice you.

Let us now come to Alexander, who was so just a ruler
that among the praises ascribed to him it is recorded, that,
during the fourteen years he held the Empire, no man was
ever put to death by him without trial. Nevertheless, being
accounted effeminate, and thought to be governed by his
mother, he fell into contempt, and the army conspiring
against him, slew him.

^ When we turn to consider the characters of Commodus,
Severus, and Caracalla, we find them all to have been most
cruel and rapacious Princes, who to satisfy the soldiery,
scrupled not to inflict every kind of wrong upon the people.
And all of them, except Severus, came to a bad end. But in
Severus there was such strength of character, that, keep
ing the soldiers his friends, he was able, although he op
pressed the people, to reign on prosperously to the last ; be
cause his great qualities made him so admirable in the eyes
both of the people and the soldiers, that the former remained
in a manner amazed and awestruck, while the latter were
respectful and contented.

And because his actions, for one who was a new Prince,
were thus remarkable, I will point out shortly how well he
understood to play the part both of the lion and of the fox,
each of which natures, as I have observed before, a Prince
should know how to assume.

Knowing the indolent disposition of the Emperor Julianus,
Severus persuaded the army which he commanded in Illyria
that it was their duty to go to Rome to avenge the death of
Pertinax, who had been slain by the Pretorian guards.
Under this pretext, and without disclosing his design on the
Empire, he put his army in march, and reached Italy before
it was known that he had set out. On his arrival in Rome,
the Senate, through fear, elected him Emperor and put
Julianus to death. After taking this first step, two obstacles
still Remained to his becoming sole master of the Empire ;
one in Asia, where Niger who commanded the armies of the

68 MACHIAVELLI

East had caused himself to be proclaimed Emperor; the
other in the West, where Albinus, who also aspired tc the
Empire, was in command. And as Severus judged it danger
ous to declare open war against both, he resolved to pro
ceed against Niger by arms, and against Albinus by artifice.
To the latter, accordingly, he wrote, that having been chosen
Emperor by the Senate, he desired to share the dignity
with him ; that he therefore sent him the title of Caesar, and
in accordance with a resolution of the Senate assumed him
as his colleague. All which statements Albinus accepted as
true. But so soon as Severus had defeated and slain Niger,
and restored tranquillity in the East, returning to Rome he
complained in the Senate that Albinus, all unmindful of the
favours he had received from him, had treacherously sought
to destroy him ; for which cause he was compelled to go
and punish his ingratitude. Whereupon he set forth to seek
Albinus in Gaul, where he at once deprived him of his
dignities and his life.

Whoever, therefore, examines carefully the actions of this
Emperor, will find in him all the fierceness of the lion and all
the craft of the fox, and will note how he was feared and
respected by the people, yet not hated by the army, and will
not be surprised that though a new man, he was able to
maintain his hold of so great an Empire. For the splendour
of his reputation always shielded him from the odium which
the people might otherwise have conceived against him by
reason of his cruelty and rapacity.

Caracalla, his son, was likewise a man of great parts, en
dowed with qualities that made him admirable in the sight
of the people, and endeared him to the army, being of a
warlike spirit, most patient of fatigue, and contemning all
luxury in food and every other effeminacy. Nevertheless,
his ferocity and cruelty were so extravagant and unheard
of (he having put to death a vast number of the inhabitants
of Rome at different times, and the whole of those of Alex
andria at a stroke), that he came to be detested by all the
world, and so feared even by those whom he had about him,
that at the last he was slain by a centurion in the midst of
his army.

And here let it be noted that deaths like this which arc

THE PRINCE 6g

the result of a deliberate and fixed resolve, cannot be escaped
by I rmces, since any one who disregards his own life can
effect them. A Prince, however, needs the less to fear
them as they are seldom attempted. The only precaution
he can take is to avoid doing grave wrong to any of those
who serve him, or whom he has near him as officers of his
Court, a precaution which Caracalla neglected in putting to
a shameful death the brother of this centurion, and in using
daily threats against the man himself, whom he nevertheless
tamed as one of his bodyguard. This, as the event showed
was a rash and fatal course.

We come next to Commodus, who. as he took the Fmoire
by hereditary right, ought to have held it with much ease
For being the son of Marcus, he had only to follow in his
father s footsteps to content both the people and the soldiery
But being of a cruel and brutal nature, to sate his rapacity
the expense of the people, he sought support from the
army, and indulged it in every kind of excess. On the other
hand, by an utter disregard of his dignity, in frequently
descending into the arena to fight with gladiators, and by
ther base acts wholly unworthy of the Imperial station he
became contemptible in the eyes of the soldiery; and being
on the one hand hated, on the other despised, was at last con
spired against and murdered.

The character of Maximinus remains to be touched upon

Alexander Y"? warlikeu disp°siti°n' *nd on the death of
der of whom we have already spoken, was chosen
Emperor by the army who had been displeased with tin
effeminacy of that Prince. But this dignity he did not long
enjoy, since two causes concurred to render him at once
odious and contemptible; the one the baseness of his origin
he having at one time herded sheep in Thrace, a fact well
known to all, and which led all to look on him with disdain
the other that on being proclaimed Emperor, delaying to
repair to Rome and enter on possession" of the Im crial
throne, he incurred the reputation of excessive cruelly by
RomTand "^^ atr°C1'tieS PerPetrated by his prefects in
the whole world, stirred at once with scorToVhTs*
birth and with the hatred which the dread of his ferocTty

70 MACHIAVELLI

inspired, combined against him, Africa leading *« way the
Senate and people of Rome and the whole of Italy following.
ISn which coPnspPiracy his own army joined For they being
engaged in the siege of Aquileja and Ending difficulty m
reducing it disgusted with his cruelty, and less afraid of
h m when they faw so many against him, put him to death
Tnld say nothing of Heliogabalus, Macrmus, or Juhanus.
all of whom being utterly despicable, came to a speedy
downfall, but shall conclude these remarks by observing
that the Princes of our own days are less troubled with the
difficulty of having to make constant efforts to keep he
sTdiers in good humour. For though they must treat them
with some indulgence, the need for doing so is soon over,
rice none of these Princes possesses a standing army winch
ke the at ies of the Roman Empire, has strengthened with
he growth of his government and the administration ^ of his
State And if it was then necessary to satisfy the soldiers
rather than the people, because the soldiers were more
powerful than the people, now it is more necessary or all
Princes except the Turk and the Soldan, to satisfy 1
people father than the soldiery, since the former are more

T±pththne "cause he has always about him some
twelve thousand foot soldiers and fifteen thousand horse, on
whom depend the security and strength of ^kingdom and
with whom he must needs keep on good terms, a regard
Tor the people being subordinate. The government of the
Soldan ifsK so that he too being wholly in the hands
of S soldiers, must keep well with them without regard to

^ir/hte you are to note that the State of the Soldan
while it is unlike all other Princedoms resembles the
Christian Pontificate in this, that it can Cither be classed
as new nor as hereditary. For the sons of. a Soldan who
d es do not succeed to the kingdom as his heirs, but he who
f elected to the post by those who have authority to make
such elections. And this being the ancient and established
ord r of things, the Princedom cannot be accounted new
since none of the difficulties that attend new Princedoms
are found in it. For although the Prince be new, the m-

THE PRINCE 71

stitutions of the State are old, and are so contrived that the
elected Prince is accepted as though he were an hereditary
sovereign.

But returning to the matter in hand, I say that whoever
reflects on the above reasoning will see that either hatred or
contempt was the ruin of the Emperors whom I have named-
1 will also understand how it happened that some taking
one way and some the opposite, one only by each of these
roads came to a happy, and all the rest to an unhappy end
-cause for Pertinax and Alexander, they being new
- nnces, it was useless and hurtful to try to imitate Marcus,
who was an hereditary Prince; and similarly for Caracalla
Commodus, and Maximinus it was a fatal error to imitate
severus, since they lacked the qualities that would have
enabled them to tread in his footsteps.

In short, a Prince new to the Princedom cannot imitate
the actions of Marcus, nor is it necessary that he should
imitate all those of Severus; but he should borrow from
severus those parts of his conduct which are needed to
serve as a foundation for his government, and from Marcus
those suited to maintain it, and render it glorious when once
established.

CHAPTER XX

WHETHER FORTRESSES. AND CERTAIN OTHER EXPEDIENTS TO
WHICH PRINCES OFTEN HAVE RECOURSE, ARE PROFITA
BLE OR HURTFUL

To govern more securely some Princes have disarmed their
subjects, others have kept the towns subject to them divided
by factions; some have fostered hostility against themselves
others have sought to gain over those who at the beginning
Of their reign were looked on with suspicion; some have
built fortresses, others have dismantled and destroyed them ;
and though no definite judgment can be pronounced re
specting any of these methods, without regard to the special
circumstances of the State to which it is proposed to apply
them, I shall nevertheless speak of them in as comprehen
sive a way as the nature of the subject will admit.

It has never chanced that any new Prince has disarmed

72 MACHIAVELLI

his subjects. On the contrary, when he has found them un
armed he has always armed them. For the arms thus pro
vided become yours, those whom you suspected grow faith
ful, while those who were faithful at the first, continue so,
and from your subjects become your partisans. And though
all your subjects cannot be armed, yet if those of them
whom you arm be treated with marked favour, you can deal
more securely with the rest. For the difference which
those whom you supply with arms perceive in their treatment,
vill bind them to you, while the others will excuse you,
recognizing that those who incur greater risk and respon
sibility merit greater rewards. But by disarming, you at
once give offence, since you show your subjects that you
distrust them, either as doubting their courage, or as
doubting their fidelity, each of which imputations begets
hatred against you. Moreover, as you cannot maintain
yourself without arms you must have recourse to mercenary
troops. What these are I have already shown, but even
if they were good, they could never avail to defend you,
at once against powerful enemies abroad and against sub
jects whom you distrust. Wherefore, as I have said al
ready, new Princes in new Princedoms have always pro
vided for their being armed; and of instances of this His
tory is full.

But when a Prince acquires a new State, which thus be
comes joined on like a limb to his old possessions, he must
disarm its inhabitants, except such of them as have taken
part with him while he was acquiring it ; and even these, as
time ard occasion serve, he should seek to render soft and
effeminate ; and he must so manage matters that all the
arm:, of the new State shall be in the hands of his own
soldiers who have served under him in his ancient do
minions.

Our forefathers, even such among them as were esteemed
wise, were wont to say that ' Pistoja zvas to be held by
feuds, and Pisa by fortresses' and on this principle used to
promote dissensions in various subject towns with a view
to retain them with less effort. At a time when Italy was in
some measure in equilibrium, this may have been a prudent
course to follow ; but at the present day it seems impossible

THE PRINCE 73

to recommend it as a general rule of policy. For I do not
believe that divisions purposely caused can ever lead to good ;
on the contrary, when an enemy approaches, divided cities
are lost at once, for the weaker faction will always side with
the invader, and the other will not be able to stand alone.

The Venetians, influenced as I believe by the reasons
above mentioned, fostered the factions of Guelf and Ghib-
elline in the cities subject to them; and though they did
not suffer blood to be shed, fomented their feuds, in order
that the citizens having their minds occupied with these
disputes might not conspire against them. But this, as we
know, did not turn out to their advantage, for after their
defeat at Vaila, one of the two factions, suddenly taking
courage, deprived them of the whole of their territory.

Moreover methods like these argue weakness in a Prince,
for under a strong government such divisions would never
be permitted, since they are profitable only in time of
peace as an expedient whereby subjects may be more easily
managed ; but when war breaks out their insufficiency is
demonstrated.

Doubtless, Princes become great by vanquishing difficul
ties and opposition, and Fortune, on that account, when she
desires to aggrandize a new Prince, who has more need
than an hereditary Prince to win reputation, causes ene
mies to spring up, and urges them on to attack him, to the
end that he may have opportunities to overcome them, and
n.ake his ascent by the very ladder which they have planted.
For which reason, many are of the opinion that a wise
Prince, when he has the occasion, ought dexterously to pro
mote hostility to himself in certain quarters, in order that
his greatness may be enhanced by crushing it.

Princes, and new Princes especially, have found greater
fidelity and helpfulness in those whom, at the beginning of
their reign, they have held in suspicion, than in those who
at the outset have enjoyed their confidence; and Pandolfo
Petrucci, Lord of Siena, governed his State by the in
strumentality of those whom he had at one time distrusted,
in preference to all others. But on this point it is impos
sible to lay down any general rule, since the course to be
followed varies with the circumstances. This only I will

74 MACHIAVELLI

say, that those men who at the beginning of a reign have
been hostile, if of a sort requiring support to maintain
them, may always be won over by the Prince with much
ease, and are the more bound to serve him faithfully be
cause they know that they have to efface by their conduct
the unfavourable impression he had formed of them; and
in this way a Prince always obtains better help from them,
than from those who serving him in too complete security
neglect his affairs.

And since the subject suggests it, I must not fail to re
mind the Prince who acquires a new State through the
favour of its inhabitants, to weigh well what were the
causes which led those who favoured him to do so; and
if it be seen that they have acted not from any natural
affection for him, but merely out of discontent with the
former government, that he will find the greatest difficulty
in keeping them his friends, since it will be impossible for
him to content them. Carefully considering the cause of
this, with the aid of examples taken from times ancient and
modern, he will perceive that it is far easier to secure the
friendship of those who being satisfied with things as they
stood, were for that very reason his enemies, than of those
who sided with him and aided him in his usurpation only
because they were discontented.

It has been customary for Princes, with a view to hold
their dominions more securely, to build fortresses which
might serve as a curb and restraint on such as have de
signs against them, and as a safe refuge against a first on
set. I approve this custom, because it has been followed
from the earliest times. Nevertheless, in our own days,
Messer Niccolo Vitelli thought it prudent to dismantle two
fortresses in Citta di Castello in order to secure that town:
and Guido Ubaldo, Duke of Urbino, on returning to his
dominions, whence he had been driven by Cesare Borgia,
razed to their foundations the fortresses throughout the
Dukedom judging that if these were removed, it would not
again be so easily lost. A like course was followed by the
Bentivogli on their return to Bologna.

Fortresses, therefore, are useful or no, according to cir
cumstances, and if in one way they benefit, in another they

THE PRINCE 75

injure you. We may state the case thus : the Prince who is
more afraid of his subjects than of strangers ought to build
fortresses, while he who is more afraid of strangers than
of his subjects, should leave them alone. The citadel built
by Francesco Sforza in Milan, has been, and will hereafter
prove to be, more dangerous to the House of Sforza than
any other disorder of that State. So that, on the whole, the
best fortress you can have, is in not being hated by your
subjects. If they hate you no fortress will save you; for
when once the people take up arms, foreigners are never
wanting to assist them.

Within our own time it does not appear that fortresses
have been of service to any Prince, unless to the Countess
of Forli after her husband Count Girolamo was murdered;
for by this means she was able to escape the first onset of
the insurgents, and awaiting succour from Milan, to recover
her State ; the circumstances of the times not allowing any
foreigner to lend assistance to the people. But afterwards,
when she was attacked by Cesare Borgia, and the people,
out of hostility to her, took part with the invader, her for
tresses were of little avail. So that, both on this and on the
former occasion, it would have been safer for her to have
had no fortresses, than to have had her subjects for ene
mies.

All which considerations taken into account, I shall ap
plaud him who builds fortresses, and him who does not;
but I shall blame him who, trusting in them, reckons it a
light thing to be held in hatred by his people.

CHAPTER XXI

How A PRINCE SHOULD BEAR HIMSELF So As TO ACQUIRE
REPUTATION

NOTHING makes a Prince so well thought of as to under
take great enterprises and give striking proofs of his capacity.

Among the Princes of our time Ferdinand of Aragon,
the present King of Spain, may almost be accounted a new
Prince, since from one of the weakest he has become, for
fame and glory, the foremost King in Christendom. And if

76 MACHIAVELLI

you consider his achievements you will find them all great
and some extraordinary.

In the beginning of his reign he made war on Granada,
which enterprise was the foundation of his power. At first
he carried on the war leisurely, without fear of interruption,
and kept the attention and thoughts of the Barons of Castile
so completely occupied with it, that they had no time to
think of changes at home. Meanwhile he insensibly ac
quired reputation among them and authority over them.
With jhe jnpney of ..theJUmrch and .PJLhis _sub je_cts_he_was
able to maintain his armies, and during the prolonged con
test to lay the foundations of that military discipline which
afterwards made him so famous. Moreover, to enable him
to engage in still greater undertakings, always covering him
self with the_£JQaJc of religion^ he had recourse to what may
be called pious cruelty, in driving out and clearing his King
dom of the Moors; than which exploit none could be more
wonderful or uncommon. Using the same pretext he made
war on Africa, invaded Italy, and finally attacked France;
and being thus constantly busied in planning and executing
vast designs, he kept the minds of his subjects in suspense
and admiration, and occupied with the results of his actions,
which arose one out of another in such close succession as
left neither Jjime nor opportunity to oppose them.

Again, it greatly profits a Prince in conducting the in
ternal government of his State, to follow striking methods,
such as are recorded of Messer Bernabo of Milan, whenever
the remarkable actions of any one in civil life, whether for
good or for evil, afford him occasion ; and to choose such
ways of rewarding and punishing as cannot fail to be much
spoken of. But above all, he should strive by all his ac
tions to inspire a sense of his greatness and goodness.

A Prince is likewise esteemed who is a stanch friend and
a thorough foe, that is to say, who without reserve openly
declares for one against another, this being always a more
advantageous course than to stand neutral. For supposing
two of your powerful neighbours come to blows, it must
either be that you have, or have not, reason to fear the one
who comes off victorious. In either case it will always be
well for you to declare yourself, and join in frankly with one

THE PRINCE 77

side or othrr. For should you fail to do so you are certain,
in the former of the cases put, to become the prey of the
victor to the satisfaction and delight of the vanquished, and
no reason or circumstance that you may plead will avail to
shield or shelter you; for the victor dislikes doubtful friends,
and such as will not help him at a pinch ; and the van
quished will have nothing to say to you, since you would
not share his fortunes sword in hand.

When Antiochus, at the instance of tlfe Aetolians, passed
into Greece in order to drive out the Romans, he sent en
voys to the Achaians, who were friendly to the Romans, ex
horting them to stand neutral. The Romans, on the other
hand, urged them to take up arms on their behalf. The
matter coming to be discussed in the Council of the Achai
ans, the legate of Antiochus again urged neutrality, where
upon the Roman envoy answered — ' Nothing can be less to
your advantage than the course which has been recom
mended as the best and most useful for your State, namely,
to refrain from taking any part in our war, for by standing
aloof you will gain neither favour nor fame, but remain the
prize of the victor.' And it will always happen that he
who is not your friend will invite you to neutrality, while
he who is your friend will call on you to declare yourself
openly in arms. Irresolute Princes, to escape immediate
danger, commonly follow the neutral path, in most instances
to their destruction. But when you pronounce valiantly in
favour of one side or other, if he to whom you give your
adherence conquers, although he be powerful and you are
at his mercy, still he is under obligations to you, and has
become your friend ; and none are so lost to shame as to
destroy with manifest ingratitude, one who has helped them.
Besides which, victories are never so complete that the vic
tor can afford to disregard all considerations whatsoever,
more especially considerations of justice. On the other
hand, if he with whom you take part should lose, you will
always be favourably regarded by him ; while he can he will
aid you, and you become his companion in a cause which
may recover.

In the second case, namely, when both combatants are of
such limited strength that whichever wins you have no cause

78 MACHIAVELLI

to fear, it is all the more prudent for you -to take a side, for
you will then be ruining the one with the help of the other,
who were he wise would endeavour to save him. If he
whom you help conquers, he remains in your power, and
with your aid he cannot but conquer.

And here let it be noted that a Prince should be careful
never to join with one stronger than himself in attacking
others, unless, as already said, he be driven to it by neces
sity. For if he whom you join prevails, you are at his
mercy; and Princes, so far as in them lies, should avoid
placing themselves at the mercy of others. The Venetians,
although they might have declined the alliance, joined with
France against the Duke of Milan, which brought about
their ruin. But when an alliance cannot be avoided, as was
the case with the Florentines when the Pope and Spain
together led their armies to attack Lombardy, a Prince, for
the reasons given, must take a side. Nor let it be supposed
that any State can choose for itself a perfectly safe line of
policy. On the contrary, it must reckon on every course
which it may take being doubtful; for it happens in all
human affairs that we never seek to escape one mischief
without falling into another. Prudence therefore consists
in knowing how to distinguish degrees of disadvantage, and
in accepting a less evil as a good.

Again, a Prince should show himself a patron of merit,
and should honour those who excel in every"artr Tie ought
accordingly to encourage his subjects by enabling them to
pursue their callings, whether mercantile, agricultural, or
any other, in security, so that this man shall not be de
terred from beautifying his possessions from the apprehen
sion that they may be taken from him, or that other re
frain from opening a trade through fear of taxes; and he
should provide rewards for those who desire so to employ
themselves, and for all who are disposed in any way to add
to the greatness of his City or State.

He ought, moreover, at suitable seasons of the year to
entertain the people with festivals and shows. And because
all cities are divided into guilds and companies, he should
show attention to these societies, and sometimes take part
in their meetings; offering an example of courtesy and

THE PRINCE 79

munificence, but always maintaining the dignity of his sta
tion, which must under no circumstances be compromised.

CHAPTER XXII
OF THE SECRETARIES OF PRINCES

THE choice of Ministers is a matter of no small moment to
a Prince. Whether they shall be good or no depends on his
prudence, so that the readiest conjecture we can form of
the character and sagacity of a Prince, is from seeing what
sort of men he has about him. When they are at once
capable and faithful, we may always account him wise, since
he has known to recognize their merit and to retain their
fidelity. But if they be otherwise, we must pronounce un
favourably of him, since he has committed a first fault in
making this selection.

There was none who knew Messer Antonio of Venafro
as Minister of Pandolfo Petrucci, Lord of Siena, but thought
Pandolfo a most prudent ruler in having him for his servant.
And since there are three scales of intelligence, one which
understands by itself, a second which understands what is
shown it by others, and a third which understands neither
by itself nor on the showing of others, the first of which is
most excellent, the second good, but the third worthless,
we must needs admit that if Pandolfo was not in the first
of these degrees, he was in the second; for when one has
the judgment to discern the good from the bad in what
another says or does, though he be devoid of invention, he
can recognize the merits and demerits of his servant, and
will commend the former while he corrects the latter. The
servant cannot hope to deceive such a master, and will con
tinue good.

- As to how a Prince is to know his Minister, this unerring

rule may be laid down. When you see a Minister thinking

, more of himself than of you, and in all his actions seeking

' his own ends, that man can never be a good Minister or one-

(^that you can trust. For he who has the charge of the State

committed to him, ought not to think of himself, but only of

his Prince, and should never bring to the notice of the latter

£0 MACHIAVELLI

what does not directly concern him. On the other hand, to
keep his Minister good, the Prince should be considerate of
him, dignifying him, enriching him, binding him to himself
by benefits, and sharing with him the honours as well as the
burthens of the State, so that the abundant honours and
wealth bestowed upon him may divert him from seeking
them at other hands; while the great responsibilities where
with he is charged may lead him to dread change, knowing
that he cannot stand alone without his master's support.
When Prince and Minister are upon this footing they can
mutually trust one another; but when the contrary is the
case, it will always fare ill with one or other of them.

CHAPTER XXIII
THAT FLATTERERS SHOULD BE SHUNNED

ONE error into which Princes, unless very prudent or very
fortunate in their choice of friends, are apt to fall, is of so
great importance that I must not pass it over. I mean in
respect of flatterers. These abound in Courts, because men
take such pleasure in their own concerns, and so deceive
themselves with regard to them, that they can hardly escape
this plague ; while even in the effort to escape it there is
risk of their incurring contempt.

For there is no way to guard against flattery but by let
ting it be seen that you take no offence in hearing the truth :
_but when every one is free to tell you the truth respect
falls short. Wherefore a prudent Prince should follow a
middle course, by choosing certain discreet men from among
his subjects, and allowing them alone free leave to speak
their minds on any matter on which he asks their opinion,
and on none other. But he ought to ask their opinion on
everything, and after hearing what they have to say, should
reflect and judge for himself. And with these counsellors
collectively, and with each of them separately, his bearing
should be such, that each and all of them may know that
the more freely they declare their thoughts the better they
will be liked. Besides these, the Prince should hearken to
no others, but should follow the course determined on, and

THE PRINCE 81

.afterwards adhere firmly to his resolves. Whoever acts
otherwise is either undone by flatterers, or from continually
vacillating as opinions vary, comes to be held in light es
teem.

With reference to this matter, I shall cite a recent in
stance. Father Luke, who is attached to the Court of the
present Emperor Maximilian, in speaking of his Majesty
told me, that he seeks advice fxojn. none, yet never has his
own_wa_y_; and this from his following a course contrary to
that above recommended. For being of a secret disposi
tion, he never discloses his intentions to any, nor asks their
opinion ; and it is only when his plans are to be carried out
that they begin to be discovered and known, and at the
same time they begin to be thwarted by jhose he has about
him, when he being facile gives way. Hence it happens that
what he does one day, he undoes the next; that his wishes
and designs are never fully ascertained; and that it is im
possible to build on his resolves.

A Prince, therefore, ought always to take counsel, but at
such times and seasons only as he himself pleases, and not
when it pleases others; nay, he should discourage every one
from obtruding advice on matters on which it is not sought.
But he should be free in asking advice, and afterwards, as
regards the matters on which he has asked it, a patient
hearer of the truth, and even displeased should he perceive
that any one, from whatever motive, keeps it back.

But those who think that every Prince who has a name
for prudence owes it to the wise counsellors he has around
him, and not to any merit of his own, are certainly mis
taken; since it is an unerring rule and of universal applica
tion that a Prince who is not wise himself cannot be well
advised by others, unless by chance he surrender himself to
be wlully governed by some one adviser who happens to be
supremely prudent ; in which case he may, indeed, be well
advised; but not for long, since such an adviser will soon
deprive him of his Government. If he listen to a multitude
cf advisers, the Prince who is not wise will never have con
sistent counsels, nor will he know of himself how to recon
cile them. Each of his counsellors will study his own ad
vantage, and the Prince will be unable to detect or correct

82 MACHIAVELLI

them. Nor could it well be otherwise, for men will always
grow rogues on your hands unless they find themselves
under a necessity to be honest.

Hence it follows that good counsels, whencesoever they
come, have their origin in the prudence of the Prince, and
not the prudence of the Prince in wise counsels.

CHAPTER XXIV
WHY THE PRINCES OF ITALY HAVE LOST THEIR STATES

THE lessons above taught if prudently followed will make
a new Prince seem like an old one, and will soon seat him
in his place more firmly and securely than if his authority
had the sanction of time. For the actions of a new Prince
are watched much more closely than those of an hereditary
Prince ; and when seen to be good are far more effectual
than antiquity of blood in gaining men over and attaching
them to his cause. For men are more nearly touched by
things present than by things past, and when they find them
selves well off as they are, enjoy their felicity and seek no
further ; nay, are ready to do their utmost in defence of
the new Prince, provided he be not wanting to himself in
other respects. In this way there accrues to him a twofold
glory, in having laid the foundations of the new Princedom,
and in having strengthened and adorned it with good laws
and good arms, with faithful friends and great deeds; as,
on the other hand, there is a double disgrace in one who
has been born to a Princedom losing it by his own want of
wisdom.

And if we contemplate those Lords who in our own times
have lost their dominions in Italy, such as the King of
Naples, the Duke of Milan, and others, in the first place we
shall see, that in respect of arms they have, for reasons
already dwelt on, been all alike defective ; and next, that
some of them have either had the people against them, or
if they have had the people with them, have not known how
to secure themselves against their nobles. For without such
defects as these, States powerful enough to keep an army
in the field are never overthrown.

THE PRINCE 83

Philip of Macedon, not the father of Alexander the
Great, but he who was vanquished by Titus Quintius, had
no great State as compared with the strength of the Romans
and Greeks who attacked him. Nevertheless, being a
Prince of a warlike spirit, and skilful in gaining the good
will of the people and in securing the fidelity of the nobles,
he maintained himself for many years against his assailants,
and in the end, though he lost some towns, succeeded in
saving his Kingdom.

Let those Princes of ours, therefore, who, after holding
them for a length of years, have lost their dominions, blame
not Fortune but their own inertness. For never having re
flected in tranquil times that there might come a change
(and it is human nature when the sea is calm not to think
of storms), when adversity overtook them, they thought not
of defence but only of escape, hoping that their people, dis
gusted with the arrogance of the conqueror, would some
day recall them.

This course may be a good one to follow when all others
fail, but it were the height of folly, trusting to it, to abandon
every other; since none would wish to fall on the chance
of some one else being found to lift him up. It may not
happen that you are recalled by your people, or if it happen,
it gives you no security. It is an ignoble resource, since it
does not depend on you for its success ; and those modes
of defence are alone good, certain and lasting, which de
pend upon yourself and your own worth.

CHAPTER XXV

WHAT FORTUNE CAN EFFECT IN HUMAN AFFAIRS, AND How
SHE MAY BE WITHSTOOD

I AM not ignorant that many have been and are of the
opinion that human affairs are so governed by Fortune and
by God, that men cannot alter them by any prudence of
theirs, and indeed have no remedy against them ; and for this
reason have come to think that it is not worth while to
labour much about anything, but that they must leave every
thing to be determined by chance.

84 MACHIAVELLI

Often when I turn the matter over, I am in part inclined
to agree with this opinion, which has had the readier ac
ceptance in our own times from the great changes in things
which we have seen, and every day see happen contrary
to all human expectation. Nevertheless, that our free will
be not wholly set aside, I think it may be the case that For
tune is the mistress of one half our actions, and yet leaves
the control of the other half, or a little less, to ourselves.
And I would liken her to one of those wild torrents which,
when angry, overflow the plains, sweep away trees and
houses, and carry off soil from one bank to throw it down
upon the other. Every one flees before them, and yields
to their fury without the least power to resist. And yet,
though this be their nature, it does not follow that in seasons
of fair weather, men cannot, by constructing weirs and
moles, take such precautions as will cause them when again
in flood to pass off by some artificial channel, or at least
prevent their course from being so uncontrolled and destruc
tive. And so it is with Fortune, who displays her might
where there is no organized strength to resist her, and di
rects her onset where she knows that there is neither bar
rier nor embankment to confine her.

And if you look at Italy, which has been at once the
seat of these changes and their cause, you will perceive that
it is a field without embankment or barrier. For if, like
Germany, France, and Spain, it had been guarded with
sufficient skill, this inundation, if it ever came upon us, would
never have wrought the violent changes which we have
witnessed.

This I think enough to say generally touching resistance
to Fortune. But confining myself more closely to the mat
ter in hand, I note that one day we see a Prince prospering
and the next day overthrown, without detecting any change
in his nature or character. This, I believe, comes chiefly
jjfrom a cause already dwelt upon, namely, that a Prince
!%vho rests wholly on Fortune is ruined when she changes.
Moreover, I believe that he will prosper most whose mode
pf acting best adapts itself to the character of the times;
and conversely that he will be unprosperous, with whose
mode of acting the times do not accord. For we see that

THE PRINCE 85

men in these matters which lead to the end that each has
before him, namely, glory and wealth, proceed by different
ways, one with caution, another with impetuosity, one with
violence, another with sublety, one with patience, another
with its contrary; and that by one or other of these differ
ent courses each may succeed.

Again, of two who act cautiously, you shall find that one
attains his end, the other not, and that two of different
temperament, the one cautious, the other impetuous, are
equally successful. All which happens from no other cause
than that the character of the times accords or does not
accord with their methods of acting. And hence it comes,
as I have already said, that two operating differently arrive
at the same result, and two operating similarly, the one
succeeds and the other not. On this likewise depend the
vicissitudes of Fortune. For if to one who conducts himself
with caution and patience, time and circumstances are pro
pitious, so that his method of acting is good, he goes on
prospering; but if these change he is ruined, because lie
does not change his method of acting.

For no man is found so prudent as to know how to adapt
himself to these changes, both because he cannot deviate
from the course to which nature inclines him, and because,
having always prospered while adhering to one path, lie
cannot be persuaded that it would be well for him to for
sake it. And so when occasion requires the cautious man
to act impetuously, he cannot do so and is undone : whereas,
had he changed his nature with time and circumstances, his
fortune would have been unchanged.

Pope Julius II proceeded with impetuosity in all his under
takings, and found time and circumstances in such harmony
with his mode of acting that he always obtained a happy
result. \Yitness his first expedition against Bologna, when
Messer Giovanni Bentivoglio was yet living. The Venetians
were not favourable to the enterprise ; nor was the King
of Spain. Negotiations respecting it with the King of
France were still open. Nevertheless, the Pope with his
wonted hardihood and impetuosity marched in person on the
expedition, and by this movement brought the King of Spain
and the Venetians to a check, the latter through fear, the

86 MACHIAVELLI

former from his eagerness to recover the entire Kingdom
of Naples; at the same time, he dragged after him the King
of France, who, desiring to have the Pope for an ally in
humbling the Venetians, on finding him already in motion
saw that he could not refuse him his soldiers without open
ly offending him. By the impetuosity of his movements,
therefore, Julius effected what no other Pontiff endowed
with the highest human prudence could. For had he, as
any other Pope would have done, put off his departure from
Rome until terms had been settled and everything duly ar
ranged, he never would have succeeded. For the King of
France would have found a thousand pretexts to delay him,
and the others would have menaced him with a thousand
alarms. I shall not touch upon his other actions, which
were all of a like character, and all of which had a happy
issue, since the shortness of his life did not allow him to ex
perience reverses. But if times had overtaken him, render
ing a cautious line of conduct necessary, his ruin must have
ensued, since he never could have departed from those
methods to which nature inclined him.

To be brief, I say that since Fortune changes and men
stand fixed in their old ways, they are prosperous so long
as there is congruity between them, and the reverse when
there is not. Of this, however, I am well persuaded, that
it is better to be impetuous than cautious. For Fortune is a
woman who to be kept under must be beaten and roughly
handled; and we see that she suffers herself to be more
readily mastered by those who so treat her than by those
who are more timid in their approaches. And always, like
a woman, she favours the young, because they are less
scrupulous and fiercer, and command her with greater au
dacity.

CHAPTER XXVI
AN EXHORTATION TO LIBERATE ITALY FROM THE BARBARIANS

TURNING over in my mind all the matters which have above
been considered, and debating with myself whether in Italy
at the present hour the times are such as might serve to
confer honour on a new Prince, and whether a fit oppor-

THE PRINCE 87

tunity now offers for a prudent and valiant leader to bring
about changes glorious for himself and beneficial to the
whole Italian people, it seems to me that so many conditions
combine to further such an enterprise, that I know of no
[time so favourable to it as the present. And if, as I have
said, it was necessary in order to display the valour of
Moses that the children of Israel should be slaves in Egypt,
and to know the greatness and courage of Cyrus that the
Persians should be oppressed by the Medes, and to illustrate
the excellence of Theseus that the Athenians should be
scattered and divided, so at this hour, to prove the worth of
some Italian hero, it was required that Italy should be
brought to her present abject condition, to be more a slave
than the Hebrew, more oppressed than the Persian, more
disunited than the Athenian, without a head, without order,
beaten, spoiled, torn in pieces, over-run and abandoned to
destruction in every shape.

But though, heretofore, glimmerings may have been dis
cerned in this man or that, whence it might be conjectured
that he was ordained by God for her redemption, neverthe
less it has afterwards been seen in the further course of his
actions that Fortune has disowned him ; so that our country,
left almost without life, still waits to know who it is that
is to heal her bruises, to put an end to the devastation and
plunder of Lombardy, to the exactions and imposts of
Naples and Tuscany, and to stanch those wounds of hers
which long neglect has changed into running sores.

We see how she prays God to send some one to rescue
her from these barbarous cruelties and oppressions. We
see too how ready and eager she is to follow any standard
were there only some one to raise it. But at present we see
no one except in your illustrious House (pre-eminent by its
virtues and good fortune, and favoured by God and by the
Church whose headship it now holds), who could undertake
the part of a deliverer.

But for you this will not be too hard a task, if you keep
before your eyes the lives and actions of those whom I have
named above. For although these men were singular and
extraordinary, after all they were but men, not one of whom
had so great an opportunity as now presents itself to you.

88 MACHIAVELLI

For their undertakings were not more just than this, nor
more easy, nor was God more their friend than yours. The
justice of the cause is conspicuous; for that .war is jusl
which is necessary, and those arms are s~acred from which
we deffve our onlyTfope. Everywhere there is the strongest
disposition to engage in this cause; and where the disposi
tion is strong the difficulty cannot be great, provided you
follow the methods observed by those whom I have set be
fore you as models.

But further,' we see here extraordinary and unexampled
proofs of Divine favour. The sea has been divided; the
cloud has attended you on your way; the rock has flowed
with water ; the manna has rained from heaven ; everything
has concurred to promote your greatness. What remains
to be done must be done by you; since in order not to de
prive us of our free will and such share of glory as belongs
tc us, God will not do everything himself.

Nor is it to be marvelled at if none of those Italians I have
named has been able to effect what we hope to see effected
by your illustrious House ; or that amid so many revolutions
and so many warlike movements it should always appear
as though the military virtues of Italy were spent; for this
comes from her old system being defective, and from no
one being found among us capable to strike out a new.
Nothing confers such honour on the reformer of a State,
as do the new laws and institutions which he devises ; for
these when they stand on a solid basis and have a greatness
in their scope, make him admired and venerated. And in
Italy material is not wanting for improvement in every
form. If the head be weak the limbs are strong, and we
see daily in single combats, or where few are engaged, how
superior are the strength, dexterity, and intelligence of
Italians. But when it comes to armies, they are nowhere,
and this from no other reason than the defects of their
leaders. For those who are skilful in arms will not obey,
and every one thinks himself skilful, since hitherto we have
had none among us so raised by merit or by fortune above
his fellows that they should yield him the palm. And hence
it happens that for the long period of twenty years, during
which so many wars have taken place, whenever there has

THE PRINCE 89

been an army purely Italian it has always been beaten. To
this testify, first Taro, then Alessandria, Capua, Genoa,
Vaila, Bologna, Mestri.

If then your illustrious House should seek to follow the
example of those great men who have delivered their coun
try in past ages, it is before all things necessary, as the true
foundation of every such attempt, to be provided with na
tional troops, since you can have no braver, truer, or more
faithful soldiers; and although every single man of them be
good, collectively they will be better, seeing themselves
commanded by their own Prince, and honoured and es
teemed by him. That you may be able, therefore, to defend
yourself against the foreigner with Italian valour, the first
step is to provide yourself with an army such as this.

And although the Swiss and the Spanish infantry are
each esteemed formidable, there are yet defects in both, by
reason of which troops trained on a different system might
not merely withstand them, but be certain of defeating them.
For the Spaniards cannot resist cavalry and the Swiss will
give way before infantry if they find them as resolute as
themselves at close quarters. Whence it has been seen,
and may be seen again, that the Spaniards cannot sustain
the onset of the French men-at-arms and that the Swiss
are broken by the Spanish foot. And although of this
last we have no complete instance, we have yet an indica
tion of it in the battle of Ravenna, where the Spanish in
fantry confronted the German companies who have the
same discipline as the Swiss; on which occasion the Span
iards by their agility and with the aid of their bucklers
forced their way under the pikes, and stood ready to close
with the Germans, who were no longer in a position to de
fend themselves; and had they not been charged by cavalry,
they must have put the Germans to utter rout. Knowing,
then, the defects of each of these kinds of troops, you can
train your men on some different system, to withstand
cavalry and not to fear infantry. To effect this, will not
require the creation of any new forces, but simply a change
in the discipline of the old. And these are matters in re
forming which the new Prince acquires reputation and
importance.

90

MACHIAVELLI

This opportunity then, for Italy at last to look on her de
liverer, ought not to be allowed to pass away. With what
love he would be received in all those Provinces which have
suffered from the foreign inundation, with what thirst for
vengeance, with what fixed fidelity, with what devotion, and
what tears, no words of mine can declare. What gates
would be closed against him? What people would refuse
him obedience? What jealousy would stand in his way?
What Italian but would yield him homage? This barbarian
tyranny stinks in all nostrils.

Let your illustrious House therefore take upon itself this
enterprise with all the courage and all the hopes with which
a just cause is undertaken; so that under your standard this
our country may be ennobled, and under your auspices be
fulfilled the words of Petrarch: —

' Brief will be the strife
When valour arms against barbaric rage;
For the bold spirit of the bygone age
Still warms Italian hearts with life.'

UTOPIA

BY

SIR THOMAS MORE

WITH THE LIFE OF MORE

BY
WILLIAM ROPER

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

THE accompanying intimate account of the life of Sir Thomas
More by his son-in-law, William Roper, renders a biographical
sketch unnecessary.

While More was a young law student in Lincoln's Inn, he is
known to have delivered in the church of St. Lawrence a
course of lectures on Saint Augustine's "City of God"; and
some have supposed that it was this that suggested to him the
composition of the " Utopia." The book itself was begun in
Antwerp inj^r^ when More was in Flanders engaged in nego
tiations on behalf of the English wool merchants, and results
of his observations among the towns of the Low Countries are
evident in some of the details of his imaginary state. The
framework seems to have been suggested by an incident related
in the narrative of the fourth voyage of Amerigo Vespucci, in
whose company Raphael Hythloday is represented as having
sailed.

In the elaborating of his model society, More drew on Plato's
"Republic" and on Saint Augustine for a number of im
portant features. But the work as a whole is the outcome of
the author's own political thinking and observation; though it
is not to be supposed that he believed in all the institutions
and customs which he describes. In ordinary intercourse, More
was fond of a jest, and many, we are told, found it hard to
know when he spoke seriously. Much of this whimsical humor
is implicit in the "Utopia"; and while it contains elements in
•which he had a firm belief, it is more than probable that much
of it was in the highest degree tentative, and some of it con
sciously paradoxical.

In spite of this uncertainty as to M ore's attitude, the in
fluence of the book, both in imaginative literature and in social
theory, has been considerable; and it is the ancestor of a long
line of ideal commonwealths. Modern reformers are still find
ing in its pages suggestions for the society of the future.

92

THE LIFE OF
SIR THOMAS MORE

In hoc >Jl signo vinces.

FORASMUCH as Sir Thomas More, Knight sometime
Lord Chancellor of England, a man of singular virtue
and of a clear unspotted conscience, (as witnessed!
Erasmus), more pure and white than the whitest snow, and
of such an angelical wit, as England, he saith, never had the
like before, nor never shall again, universally, as well in
the laws of our Realm (a study in effect able to occupy the
whole life of a man) as in all other sciences, right well
studied, was in his days accounted a man worthy famous
memory; I William Roper (though most unworthy) his
son-in-law by marriage of his eldest daughter, knowing no
one man that of him and of his doings understood so much
as myself for that I was continually resident in his house
by the space of sixteen years and more, thought it therefore
my part to set forth such matters touching his life as I
could at this present call to remembrance. Among which
very many notable things not meet to have been forgotten,
through negligence and long continuance of time, are slipped
out of my mind. Yet to the intent the same shall not all
utterly perish, I have at the desire of divers worshipful
friends of mine, though very far from the grace and worth
iness of them, nevertheless as far forth as my mean wit,
memory and learning would serve me, declared so much
thereof as in my poor judgment seemed worthy to be
remembered.

This Sir Thomas More after he had been brought up in
the Latin tongue at St. Anthony's in London, he was, by
his father's procurement received into the house of the right

93

94 ROPER

reverend, wise and learned prelate Cardinal Morton, where
(though he was young of years, yet) would he at Christmas-
tide suddenly sometimes step in among the players, and never
studying for the matter, make a part of his own there pres
ently among them, which made the lookers-on more sport
than all the players beside. In whose wit and towardness
the Cardinal much delighting, would often say of him unto
the nobles that divers times dined with him, " This child
here waiting at the table, whosoever shall live to see it, will
prove a marvellous man." Whereupon for his learning he
placed him at Oxford, where when he was both in the Greek
and Latin tongue sufficiently instructed, he was then for the
study of the law of the Realm put to an Inn of the Chancery,
called New Inn, where for his time, he very well prospered.
And from thence was committed to Lincoln's Inn, with very
small allowance, continuing there his study until he was made
and accounted a worthy utter barrister. After this, to his
great commendation, he read for a good space a public
lecture of St. Augustine de Civitate Dei in the church of
St. Laurence in the Old Jewry, whereunto there resorted
Doctor Grocyn, an excellent cunning man, and all the chief
learned of the city of London. Then was he made Reader
of Furnival's Inn, so remaining by the space of three years
and more. After which time he gave himself to devotion
and prayer in the Charterhouse of London, religiously living
there without vow about four years, until he resorted to the
house of one Mr. Colt, a gentleman of Essex that had oft
invited him thither, having three daughters whose honest
conversation and virtuous education provoked him there
especially to set his affection. And albeit his mind most
served him to the second daughter, for that he thought
her the fairest and best favoured, yet when he considered
that it would be both great grief and some shame also to
the eldest to see her younger sister in marriage preferred
before her, he then of a certain pity framed his fancy
towards her, and soon after married her, nevertheless not
discontinuing his study of the law at Lincoln's Inn, but
applying still the same until he was called to the Bench, and
had read twice, which is as often as any judge of the law
doth read.

LIFE OP MORE g5

Before which time he had placed himself and his wife at
Bucklesbury in London, where he had by her three daughters
in virtue and learning brought up from their youth, whom
he would often exhort to take virtue and learning for their
meat, and play but for their sauce.

Who ere ever he had been reader in Court was in the
latter time of King Henry the Seventh made a Burgess in
the Parliament, wherein there were by the King demanded
(as I have heard it reported) about three-fifteenths for the
marriage of his eldest daughter, that then should be the
Scottish Queen. At the last debating whereof he made
such arguments and reasons there against, that the King's
demands were thereby overthrown. So that one of the
King's privy chamber, named Mr. Tyler, being present
thereat, brought word to the King out of the Parliament
house, that a beardless boy had disappointed all his purposes.
Whereupon the King conceiving great indignation towards
him could not be satisfied until he had some way revenged
it. And forasmuch as he nothing having, nothing could lose,
his grace devised a causeless quarrel against his Father, keep
ing him in the Tower until he had paid him an hundred
pounds fine. Shortly hereupon it fortuned that this Sir
Thomas More coming in a suit to Dr. Fox, Bishop of
Winchester, one of the King's privy council, they called him
aside, and pretending great favour towards him, promised
him that if he would be ruled by him, he would not fail
but into the King's favour again to restore him, meaning,
as it was after conjectured, to cause him thereby to confess
his offence against the King, whereby his Highness might
with better colour have occasion to revenge his displeasure
against him. But when he came from the Bishop, he fell
in communication with one Mr. Witford, his familiar friend,
then chaplain to that Bishop and after a Father of Sion,
and showed him what the Bishop had said unto him, desir
ing to have his advice therein, who for the passion of God
prayed him in no wise to follow his counsel " for my Lord
my Master (quoth he) to serve the King's turn will not
stick to agree to his own father's death." So Sir Thomas
More returned to the Bishop no more. And had not the
King soon after died, he was determined to have gone over

96 ROPER

the sea, thinking that being in the King's indignation he
could not live in England without great danger. After he
was made one of the under-sheriffs of London, by which
office and his learning together as I have heard him say,
he gained without grief not so little as four hundred pounds
by the year; since there was at that time in none of the
Prince's courts of the laws of this realm any matter of
importance in controversy wherein he was not with the one
party of counsel. Of whom, for his learning, wisdom, and
knowledge and experience, men had him in such estimation,
that before he was come to the service of King Henry the
Eighth, at the suit and instance of the English Merchants,
he was, by the King's consent, made twice Ambassador in
certain great causes between them and the Merchants of the
Stilliard, whose wise and discreet dealing therein to his
high commendation, coming to the King's understanding,
provoking his Highness to cause Cardinal Wolsey (then
Lord Chancellor) to procure him to his service. And albeit
the Cardinal according to the King's request earnestly
travailed with him therefore, among many other his per
suasions alleging unto him, how dear his service must needs
be unto his Majesty, which could not of his honour with less
than he should yearly lose thereby seem to recompense
him, yet he, loath to change his estate, made such means
to the King by the Cardinal to the contrary, that his Grace
for that time was well satisfied. Now happened there after
this a great ship of his that then was Pope to arrive at
Southampton, which the King claiming for a forfeiture,
the Pope's Ambassador by suit unto his Grace obtained, that
he might for his Master the Pope have counsel learned in
the Laws of this realm, and the matter in his own presence
(being himself a singular civilian) in some public place
to be openly heard and discussed. At which time there
could none of our law be found so meet to be of counsel
with this Ambassador as Sir Thomas More, who could
report to the Ambassador in Latin all the reasons and
arguments by the learned counsel on both sides alleged.
Upon this the Councillors on either party in presence of the
Lord Chancellor, and other the judges in the Star Chamber,
had audience accordingly. Where Sir Thomas More not only

LIFE OF MORE

97

declared to the Ambassador the whole effect of all their
opinions, but also in defence on the Pope's side argued so
learnedly himself, that both was the foresaid forfeiture to
the Pope restored, and himself among all the hearers, for
his upright and commendable demeanour therein, so greatly
renowned, that for no entreaty would the King from hence
forth be induced any longer to forbear his service. At whose
first entry thereunto he made him Master of the Requests,
having then no better room void, and within a month after,
knight and one of his Privy Council, and so from time to
time was by the Prince advanced, continuing in his singular
favour and trusty service twenty years and above, a good
part whereof used the King upon holidays, when he had
done his own devotions to send for him into his private
room, and there some time in matters of Astronomy, Geom
etry, Divinity, and such other Faculties, and some time
in his worldly affairs, to sit and confer with him, and other
whiles would he in the night have him up into the leads,
there to consider with him the diversities, courses, motions,
and operations of the stars and planets. And because he was
of a pleasant disposition, it pleased the King and Queen,
after the Council had supped, at the time of their supper for
their pleasure commonly to call for him, and to be merry
with them. When he perceived so much in his talk to
delight, that he could not once in a month get leave to go
home to his wife and children (whose company he most
desired) and to be absent from the Court two days together,
but that he should be thither sent for again, he much mis-
liking this restraint of liberty, began thereupon somewhat
to dissemble his nature, and so by little and little from his
former mirth to disuse himself, that he was of them from
thenceforth no more so ordinarily sent for. Then died one
Mr. Weston, Treasurer of the Exchequer, whose office after
his death the King of his own offer, without any asking,
freely gave unto Sir Thomas More. In the fourteenth year
of his Grace's Reign was there a Parliament holden, whereof
Sir Thomas More was chosen Speaker, who being very
loath to take that Room upon him, made an oration, not
now extant, to the King's Highness for his discharge thereof.
Whereunto when the King would not consent, he spake

HC XXXVI (D\

98 KOPEK

unto his Grace in form following: "Since I perceive (most
redoubted sovereign) that it standeth not with your Highness'
pleasure to reform this election, and cause it to be changed,
but have, by the mouth of the Right Reverend Father in
God the Legate your Highness' Chancellor, thereunto given
your most royal consent, and have of your benignity deter
mined, far above that I may bear, to enable me, and for
this office to repute me meet, rather than ye should seem
to impute unto your Commons that they had unmeetly
chosen, I am therefore, and always shall be, ready obediently
to conform myself to the accomplishment of your high
commandment. In my most humble wise beseeching your
most noble Majesty, that I may, with your Grace's favour,
before I farther enter thereunto, make mine humble inter
cession unto your Highness for two lowly petitions, the
one privately concerning myself, the other the whole as
sembly of your Common House. And for myself (Gracious
Sovereign) that if it mishap me in anything hereafter, that
is in the behalf of your Commons in your high presence to be
declared, to mistake my message, and for lack of good
utterance by me misrehearsed, to pervert or impair the
prudent instructions, that it may then like your most noble
Majesty of your abundant grace, with the eye of your
accustomed pity, to pardon my simplicity, giving me leave
again to repair to the Common House, and there to confer
with them, and to take their substantial advice, what thing,
and in what wise I shall on their behalf utter and speak
before your noble Grace: to the intent their prudent advices
and affairs be not by my simpleness and folly hindered or
impaired. Which thing if it should so hap, as it were well
likely to mishap in me (if your Grace's benignity relieved
not my oversight) it could not fail to be, during my life,
a perpetual grudge and heaviness to my heart. The help
and remedy whereof in manner aforesaid remembered, is
(most Gracious Sovereign) my first lowly suit and humble
petition unto your most noble Grace. Mine other humble
request, most excellent Prince, is this. Forasmuch as there
be of your Commons here, by your high commandment
assembled for your Parliament, a great number which are
after the accustomed manner appointed in the Common

LIFE OF MORE 99

House to treat and advise of the common affairs among
themselves apart: and albeit (my liege Lord) that, accord
ing to your prudent advice, by your honourable writs every
where declared, there hath been as due diligence used in
sending up to your Highness' Court of Parliament the most
discreet persons out of every quarter, that men could esteem
meet thereto, whereby it is not to be doubted but that there
is a very substantial assembly of right wise and politic
persons: yet (most victorious Prince) since among so many
wise men, neither is every man wise alike, nor among so
many men like well witted, every man like well spoken;
and if often happeneth, that likewise as much folly is
uttered with painted polished speeches, so many boisterous
and rude in language see deep indeed, and give right sub
stantial counsel : and since also in matters of great impor
tance the mind is often so occupied in the matter, that a man
rather studieth what to say, than how; by what reason
whereof the wisest man and best spoken in a country for-
tuneth among, while his mind is fervent on the matter, some
what to speak in such wise, as he would afterward wish
to have been uttered otherwise, and yet no worse will had
when he spake it, than he hath when he would so gladly
change it: Therefore (most Gracious Sovereign) consid
ering that in all your high Courts of Parliament is nothing
entreated but of matters of weight and importance concern
ing your Realm, and your own Royal estate, it could not fail
to let and put to silence from the giving of their advice and
counsel many of your discreet Commons [except they] were
utterly discharged of all doubt and fear how anything that
should happen them to speak, should happen of your High
ness to be taken : and in this point your well-known benignity
putteth every man in right good hope. Yet such is the
weight of the matter, such is the reverend dread that the
timorous hearts of your natural subjects conceive towards
your high Majesty (our most redoubted King and undoubted
Sovereign) that they cannot in this point find themselves
satisfied, except your gracious bounty herein declared put
away the scruple of their timorous minds, and animate and
encourage them out of doubt. It may therefore like your
most abundant Grace (our most gracious King) to give to

100 ROPER

all your Commons here assembled your most gracious li
cence and pardon freely, without doubt of your dreadful dis
pleasure, every man to discharge his conscience, and boldly
in everything incident among, declare his advice, and what
soever happeneth any man to say, it may like your noble
Majesty of your inestimable goodness to take all in good part,
interpreting every man's words, how uncunningly soever
they be couched, to proceed yet of a good zeal towards the
profit of your Realm and honour of your Royal person,
the prosperous estate and preservation whereof (most excel
lent Sovereign) is the thing which we all your most
humble loving subjects, according to the most bounden duty
of our natural allegiance, most highly desired and pray for."
At this Parliament Cardinal Wolsey found himself much
grieved with the Burgesses thereof, for that nothing was
so soon done or spoken therein, but that it was immediately
blown abroad in every alehouse. It fortuned at that Parlia
ment a very great subsidy to be demanded, which the Car
dinal fearing it would not pass the Common House, deter
mined for the furtherance thereof, to be there present
himself; before whose coming after long debating there,
whether it were better but with a few of his Lords (as the
most opinion of the house was) or with a whole train
royally to receive him there amongst them, " Masters," quoth
Sir Thomas More, " forasmuch as my Lord Cardinal lately,
you note well, laid to our charge the lightness of our
tongues for things uttered out of this house, it shall not be
amiss in my mind to receive him with all his pomp, with
his maces, his pillars, his pollaxes, his crosses, his hat, and
great seal too ; to the intent that if he find the like fault
with us hereafter, we may be the bolder from ourselves
to lay the blame upon those that his Grace bringeth with
him." Whereunto the House wholly agreeing, he was
received accordingly. Where after he had in a solemn ora
tion by many reasons proved how necessary it was the
demands there moved to be granted, and further said that
less would not serve the King's purpose; he seeing the
company still silent, and thereunto nothing answering, and
contrary to his expectation showing in themselves towards
his requests no towardness of inclination, said unto them:

LIFE OF MORE 101

" Masters, ye have many wise and learned men among you
and seeing I am from the King's own person sent hither unto
you for the preservation of yourselves and all the Realm I
think it meet you give me a reasonable answer " Whereat
every man holding his peace, then began he to speak to one
Mr. Marney, who making him no answer neither, he sever
ally asked the same question of divers others accounted the
wisest of the company. To whom when none of them all
would give so much as one word, being before agreed as
the custom was, by their speaker to make answer- " Masters "
quoth the Cardinal, " unless it be the manner of your house
(as of likelihood it is) in such causes to utter your minds
by the mouth of your speaker, whom ye have chosen for
trusty and wise (as indeed he is) here' is without doubt a
marvellous obstinate silence;" and thereupon required the
answer of Mr. Speaker, who reverently upon his knees
excusing the silence of the house, abashed at the presence
ot so noble a personage, able to amaze the wisest and best
learned m a realm, and after by many reasons proving that
them to make answer was it ne.ther di ' nor

agreeable with the ancient liberty of the House; in con-

Jsion for himself showed, that though they had all with

heir voices trusted him, yet except every of them could put

into his own head all their several wits, he alone in so

weighty a matter was unmeet to make his Grace answer

whereupon the Cardinal displeased with Sir Thomas More,'

£sL ?? I" 1S Parliament in a» things satisfied his

Jsire, suddenly arose and departed; and after the Parlia-

nent ended, uttered unto him all his griefs, saying, "Would

to God you had been at Rome, Mr. More, when I made

you Speaker. Your Grace not offended, so would I too

my Lord, quoth he, and to wind such quarrels out of the

Cardinal s head he began to talk of that gallerv at Hampton

Court, wherewith so wisely brake he off the Cardinal's dis-

pleasant talk, the Cardinal at that present, as it seemed, wist

)t what more to say to him, but for revengement of his

displeasure counselled the King to send him Ambassador

> Spam, commending unto his Highness his wisdom

learning and meetness for that voyage, and the difficulty*

the cause considered, none was there so well able he

102 ROPER

said, to serve his Grace therein. Which when the King had
broken to Sir Thomas More, and that he had declared unto
his Grace, how unfit a journey it was for him, the nature of
the country and disposition of his complexion so disagreeing
together, that he should never be likely to do his Grace
acceptable service therein, knowing right well that if his
Grace sent him thither, he should send him to his grave;
but showing himself nevertheless ready according to his
duty, albeit with the loss of his life, to fulfil his Grace's
pleasure therein, the King allowing well his answer, said
unto him, " It is not our meaning, Mr. More, to do you hurt,
but to do you good we would be glad. We therefore for
this purpose will devise upon some other, and employ your
service otherwise." And such entire favour did the King
bear him, that he made him Chancellor of the Duchy of
Lancaster, upon the death of Sir Richard Winfield, who had
that office before. And for the pleasure he took in his com
pany, would his Grace suddenly sometimes come home to
his house at Chelsea to be merry with him, whither on a time
unlocked for he came to dinner, and after dinner in a fair
garden of his walked with him by the space of an hour
holding his arm about his neck. As soon as his Grace was
gone, I rejoicing, told Sir Thomas More, how happy he
was, whom the King had so familiarly entertained, as I had
never seen him do to any before, except Cardinal Wolsey,
whom I saw his Grace once walk with arm in arm. " I
thank our Lord, son," quoth he, " I find his Grace my very
good lord indeed, and I do believe he doth as singularly
favour me as any subject within this Realm. Howbeit (son
Roper) I may tell thee, I have no cause to be proud thereof.
For if my head would win him a castle in France (for then
there was wars between us) it should not fail to go." This
Sir Thomas More, among all other his virtues, was of such
meekness, that if it had fortuned him with any learned
man resorting to him from Oxford, Cambridge, or elsewhere,
as there did divers, some for the desire of his acquaintance,
some for the famous report of his learning and wisdom, and
some for suits of the Universities, to have entered into argu
ment, wherein few were comparable to him, and so far to
have discoursed with them therein, that he might perceive

LIFE OF MORE 103

they could not, without some inconvenience, hold out much
further disputation against him : then, least he should dis
comfort them, as he that sought not his own glory, but
rather would seem conquered than to discourage students in
their studies, ever showing himself more desirous to learn
than to teach, would he by some witty device courteously
break off into some other matters and give over. Of
whom for his wisdom and learning had the King such
an opinion, that at such time as he attended upon his
Highness, taking his progress either to Oxford or Cam
bridge, where he was received with very eloquent ora
tions, his Grace would always assign him (as one that
was most prompt, and ready therein) ex tempore to make
answer thereunto ; whose manner was, whensoever he had
any occasion, either here or beyond the sea to be in any
University, not only to be present at the reading and dis
putations there commonly used, but also learnedly to dispute
among them himself. Who being Chancellor of the Duchy,
was made ambassador twice; joined in commission with Car
dinal Wolsey once to the Emperor Charles into Flanders,
the other time to the French King into France. Not long
after this the Water Bailiff of London (sometime his ser
vant) hearing, where he had been at dinner, certain mer
chants liberally to rail against his old master, waxed so dis
contented therewith, that he hastily came to him, and told
him what he had heard: "and were I, Sir" (quoth he) "in
such favour and authority with my Prince as you are, such
men surely should not be suffered so villainously and falsely
to mis-report and slander me. Wherefore I would wish you
to call them before you, and, to their shame, for their lewd
malice to punish them." Who smiling upon him said, " Mr.
Water Bailiff, would you have me punish them by whom I
receive more benefit than by you all that be my friends? Let
them a God's name speak as lewdly as they list of me,
and shoot never so many arrows at me, so long as they do
not hit me, what am I the worse? But if they should once
hit me, then would it a little trouble me: howbeit, I trust,
by God's help, there shall none of them all be able once to
touch me. I have more cause, Mr. Water Bailiff (I assure
thee) to pity them, than to be angry with them." Such

104 ROPER

fruitful communication had he oftentimes with his familiar
friends. So on a time walking along the Thames side with
me at Chelsea, in talking of other things, he said to me,
" Now would to God, son Roper, upon condition three things
were well established in Christendom I were put in a sack,
and here presently cast into the Thames." " What great
things be these, Sir," quoth I, " that should move you so
to wish ? " " Wouldest thou know, son Roper, what they
be ? " quoth he. " Yea marry, Sir, with a good will if it
please you," quoth I. " I faith, they be these, son," quoth
he. " The first is, that whereas the most part of Christian
princes be at mortal wars, they were at universal peace.
The second, that where the Church of Christ is at this pres
ent sore afflicted with many heresies and errors, it were well
settled in an uniformity of religion. The third, that where
the King's matter of his marriage is now come into question,
it were to the glory of God and quietness of all parties
brought to a good conclusion:" whereby, as I could gather,
he judged, that otherwise it would be a disturbance to a
great part of Christendom. Thus did it by his doings
throughout the whole course of his life appear, that all his
travails and pains, without respect of earthly commodities,
either to himself or any of his, were only upon the service
of God, the Prince and the Realm, wholly bestowed and
employed ; whom in his latter time I heard to say, that he
never asked of the King himself the value of one penny.
As Sir Thomas More's custom was daily, if he were at home,
besides his private prayers with his children, to say the
seven psalms, litany, and suffrages following, was his guise
nightly, before he went to bed, with his wife, children, and
household to go to his chapel, and there upon his knees
ordinarily to say certain psalms and collects with them: and
because he was desirous for godly purposes some time to
be solitary, and sequester himself from worldly company;
a good distance from his mansion house builded he a place,
called the new building, wherein was a chapel, a library, and
a gallery, in which as his use was upon other days to occupy
himself in prayer and study together, so on the Fridays there
usually continued he from morning unto evening, spending
his time duly in devout prayers, and spiritual exercises; and

LIFE OF MORE 105

to provoke his wife and children to the desire of heavenly
things, he would sometimes use these words unto them. " It
is now no mastery for you children to go to heaven. For
everybody giveth you good counsel, everybody giveth you
good example. You see virtue rewarded, and vice punished,
so that you are carried up to heaven even by the chins. But
if you live in the time, that no man will give you good
counsel, nor no man will give you good example, when you
shall see virtue punished, and vice rewarded, if you will then
stand fast, and firmly stick to God upon pain of life, if you
be but half good, God will allow you for whole good." If
his v ife or any of his children had been diseased, or troubled,
he would say to them, " \Ye may not look at our pleasure to
go to heaven in feather beds, it is not the way. For our
Lord himself went thither with great pain, and by many
tribulations, which is the path wherein he walked thither,
and the servant may not look to be in better case than his
Master." And as he would in this sort persuade them to
take their troubles patiently, so would he in like case teach
them to withstand the devil and his temptations, valiantly
saying, " \Yhosoever will mark the devil and his temptations
shall find him therein much like to an ape. For as an ape
not well looked to will be busy and bold to do shrewd turns,
and contrariwise being spied will suddenly lea]) back and ad
venture no farther: so the devil, seeing a man idle, sloth
ful, and without resistance ready to receive his temptations,
waxeth so hardy that he will not fail still to continue with
him, until to his purpose he hath brought him : but on the
other side, if he see a man with diligence present to prevent
and withstand his temptations, he waxeth so weary, that
in conclusion he forsaketh him. For as much as the devil
by disposition is a spirit of nature so envious, that he feareth
any more to assault him, lest that he should thereby not
only catch a foul fall himself, but also minister to the man
more matter of merit." Thus delighted he evermore not
only in virtuous exercises to be occupied himself, but also
to exhort his wife, and children, and household to embrace
and follow the same. To whom for his notable virtue and
godliness God showed, as he seemed, a manifest miraculous
token of his special favour towards him, at such time as my

106 ROPER

wife (as many others that year were) was sick of the sweat
ing sickness, who lying in so great extremity of that disease,
as by no invention or devices, that physicians in such case
commonly use (of whom she had divers, both expert, wise,
and well learned, then continually attendant upon her) she
could be kept from sleep: so that both physicians and all
others despaired her health and recovery, and gave her over:
her father (as he that most entirely tendered her) being
in no small heaviness for her, by prayer at God his hands
sought to get remedy, whereupon after his usual manner
going up into his new lodging, there in his chapel upon his
knees with tears most devoutly besought Almighty God, that
it would be like his goodness, unto whom nothing was im
possible, if it were his blessed will, at his mediation to vouch
safe graciously to hear his petition; where incontinent came
into his mind, that a glister should be the only way to help
her, which when he had told the physicians, they by-and-by
confessed, that if there were any hope of health, that it
was the very best help indeed, much marvelling of them
selves, that they had not afore remembered it. Then it was
immediately ministered unto her sleeping, which she could
by no means have been brought unto waking, and albeit after
she was thereby thoroughly awaked, God's marks, evident
undoubted token of death, plainly appeared upon her, yet
she (contrary to all their expectation) was (as it was
thought) by her father's fervent prayer miraculously re
covered, and at length again to perfect health restored, whom
if it had pleased God at that time to have taken to his mercy,
her father said he would never have meddled with worldly
matters after. Now while Sir Thomas More was Chancellor
of the Duchy, the See of Rome chanced to be void, which
was cause of much trouble. For Cardinal Wolsey, a man
very ambitious, and desirous (as good hope, and likelihood
he had) to aspire unto that dignity, perceiving himself of
his expectation disappointed by means of the Emperor
Charles, so highly commending one Cardinal Adrian, some
time his schoolmaster, to the Cardinals of Rome, in the time
of their election for his virtue and worthiness, that there
upon was he chosen Pope, who from Spain (where he was
then resident) coming on foot to Rome, before his entry

LIFE OF MORE 107

into that city did put off his hose and shoes, barefooted and
barelegged passing through the streets towards his palace
with such humbleness, that all the people had him in great
reverence. Cardinal Wolsey waxed so woe therewith, that
he studied to invent all ways of revengement of his grief
against the Emperor, which as it was the beginning of a
lamentable tragedy, so some part thereof not impertinent to
my present purpose I reckoned requisite here to put in remem
brance. This Cardinal therefore, not ignorant of the King's
unconstant and mutable disposition, soon inclined to withdraw
his devotion from his own most noble and virtuous wife
Queen Katherine, aunt to the Emperor, upon every light oc
casion ; and upon other, to her in nobility, wisdom, virtue, fa
vour and beauty far incomparable to fix his affection, meaning
to make his so light disposition an instrument to bring about
this his ungodly intent, devised to allure the King (then
already contrary to his mind nothing less looking for than
falling in love with the Lady Anne Bullen) to cast fancy
to one of the French Sisters, which thing, because of enmity
and war was at that time between the French King and the
Emperor (whom, for the cause afore remembered, he
mortally maligned) he was desirous to procure, and for the
better achieving thereof requested Langland, Bishop of
Lincoln, and ghostly father to the King, to put a scruple into
the King's head, that it was not lawful for him to marry his
brother's wife; which the King not sorry to hear of, opened
it first to Sir Thomas More, whose counsel he required there
in, showing him certain places of Scripture, that somewhat
seemed to serve his appetite, which when he had perused,
and thereupon, as one that never had professed the study
of Divinity himself, excused to be unmeet many ways to
meddle with such matters ; the King, not satisfied with this
answer, so sore still pressed upon him, therefore, in conclu
sion he condescended to his Grace his motion, and further,
that the matter was of such importance as needed good
advice and deliberation, he besought his Grace of sufficient
respect advisedly to consider of it; wherewith the King
well contented said unto him; Tunstall and Clarke, Bishops
of Durham and Bath, with other learned of his Privy Coun
cil should also be dealers therein. So Sir Thomas More

108 ROPER

departing, conferred those places of Scripture with the
exposition of divers of the old holy doctors, and at his
coming to the Court, in talking with his Grace of the fore-
said matter, he said, " To be plain with your Grace, nekher
my Lord of Durham, nor my Lord of Bath, though I know
them both to be wise, virtuous, and learned, and honour
able prelates, nor myself with the rest of your Council,
being all your Grace's own servants, for your manifold
benefits daily bestowed on us, so most bounden unto you,
be in my judgment meet counsellors for your Grace
herein; but if your Grace minds to understand the truth,
such counsellors may you have devised, as neither for
respect of their own worldly commodity, nor for fear
of your princely authority, will be inclined to deceive
you."

To whom he named St. Jerome, St. Augustine, and divers
other holy doctors, both Greeks and Latins: a.nd moreover
showed him what authority he had gathered out of them,
which although the King did not very well like of (as dis
agreeable to his Grace's desire), yet were they by Sir
Thomas More (who in all his communication with the King
in that matter had always most wisely behaved himself) so
wisely tempered, that he both presently took them in good
part, and oftentimes had thereof conference with him again.
After this were there certain questions proposed among his
Council, whether the King needed, in this case, to have any
scruple at all, and if he had, what way were best to deliver
him of it? the most part of whom were of the opinion, that
there was good cause, and that, for discharging of it, suit
were meet to be made to the See of Rome, where the King,
hoping by liberality to obtain his purpose, wherein (as after
it appeared) he was far deceived, then was there, for the
trial and examination of this matrimony, procured from
Rome a Commission, in which Cardinal Campegines and
Cardinal Wolsey were joined Commissioners, who, for the
determination thereof, sat at the Blackfriars in London.
Where a libel was put in for the admitting of the said
matrimony, alleging the said marriage between the King and
the Queen to be unlawful, and, for proof of the marriage
to be lawful, was there brought in a dispensation ; in which,

LIFE OF MORE 109

after divers disputations thereupon holden, there appeared
an imperfection, which by an instrument or brief, upon
search found in the treasury of Spain, and sent to the Com
missioners into England, was supplied, and so should judg
ment have been given by the Pope accordingly, had not the
King, upon intelligence thereof, before the same judgment,
appealed to the next general Council. After whose appel
lation the Cardinal upon that matter sat no longer. It
fortuned before the matter of the said matrimony brought
in question, when I, in talk with Sir Thomas More, of a
certain joy commended unto him the happy estate of this
realm, that had so catholic a Prince, that no heretic durst
show his face, so virtuous and learned a clergy, so grave
and sound a nobility, so loving and obedient subjects, all
in one faith agreeing together: "True it is indeed (son
Roper)," quoth he, and in commending all degrees and es
tates of the same went far beyond me, "and yet (son
Roper) I pray God," said he, " that some of us, as high as
we seem to sit upon the mountains, treading heretics under
our feet like ants, live not the day, that we gladly would
wish to be at league and composition with them, to let them
have their churches quietly to themselves; so that they
would be content to let us have ours quietly to ourselves."
After that I had told him many considerations, why he had
no cause to say so, " Well, well." said he, " I pray God (son
Roper) some of us live not till that day," showing me no
reason why I should put any doubt therein. To whom I
said, " By my troth, Sir, it is very desperately spoken," that
vile term (I cry God mercy) did I give him, who by these
words perceiving me in a fume, said merrily unto me, " Well,
son Roper, it shall not be so, it shall not be so." Whom in
sixteen years and more, being in his house conversant with
him, I could never perceive him so much as once to fume.
But now to return again where I left: After supplying of
imperfections of the dispensation sent (as before is re
hearsed) to the Commissioners into England, the King tak
ing the matter for ended, and then meaning no further to
proceed in that matter, assigned the Bishop of Durham, and
Sir Thomas More to go ambassadors to Cambray, a place
neither Imperial nor French, to treat a peace between the

110 ROPER

French King, the Emperor, and him, in the concluding
whereof Sir Thomas More so worthily handled himself
(procuring in our league far more benefits unto his realm,
than at that time by the King and Council was possible to be
compassed), that for his good service in that voyage, the
King, when he after made him Lord Chancellor, caused the
Duke of Norfolk openly to declare unto the people (as you
shall hear hereafter more at large) how much all England
was bound unto him. Now, upon the coming home of the
Bishop of Durham and Sir Thomas More from Cambray, the
King was as earnest in persuading Sir Thomas More to agree
unto the matter of his marriage as before, by many and
divers ways provoking him thereunto. For which cause (as
it was thought) he the rather soon after made him Lord
Chancellor, and further declared unto him, that though at
his going over the sea to Cambray, he was in utter despair
thereof, yet he had conceived since some good hope to com
pass it. For albeit his marriage, being against the positive
law of the Church, and the written law of God, was holden
by the dispensation, yet was there another thing found out
of late, he said, whereby his marriage appeared to be so
directly against the laws of nature, that it could in no wise
by the Church be dispensable, as Dr. Stoksely (whom he
had then newly preferred to be Bishop of London, and in
that case chiefly credited) was able to instruct him, with
whom he prayed him in that point to confer. But for all
his conference with him, he saw nothing of such force, as
could induce him to change his opinion therein; which not
withstanding the bishop showed himself in his report of
him to the King's highness so good and favourable, that he
said, he found him in his Grace's cause very toward, and desir
ous to find some good matter wherewith he might truly serve
his Grace to his contentation. This Bishop Stoksely being
by the Cardinal not long before in the Star Chamber openly
put to rebuke, and awarded to the Fleet, not brooking his
contumelious usage, and thinking, that forasmuch as the
Cardinal, for lack of such forwardness in setting first the
King's divorce as his Grace looked for, was out of his High
ness' favour, he had now a good occasion offered him to re
venge his quarrel against him — further to incense the King's

LIFE OF MORE 111

displeasure towards him, busily travailed to invent some
colourable device for the King's furtherance in that behalf.
Which (as before is mentioned) he to his Grace revealed,
hoping thereby to bring the King to the better liking of him
self, and the more misliking of the Cardinal. His Highness
therefore was soon after of his office displaced, and to Sir
Thomas More (the rather to move him to incline to his side)
the same in his stead committed. Who between Dukes of
Norfolk and Suffolk being brought through Westminster Hall
to his place in the Chancery, the Duke of Norfolk, in audi
ence of all the people there assembled, showed, that he was
from the King himself straightly charged by special com
mission there openly, in the presence of all, to make decla
ration, how much all England was beholden to Sir Thomas
More for his good service, and how worthy he was to have
the highest room in the Realm, and how dearly his Grace
loved and trusted him; for which, said the Duke, he had
great cause to rejoice. Whereunto Sir Thomas More, among
many other his humble and wise sayings (not now in my
memory) answered, " That although he had good cause to
rejoice of his Highness' singular favour towards him, that
he had far above his deserts so highly commended him, yet
nevertheless he must for his own part needs confess, that in
all things by his Grace alleged he had done no more than was
his duty. And further disabled himself as unmeet for that
room, wherein, considering how wise and honourable a prel
ate had lately before taken so great a fall, he had," he said,
"thereof no cause to rejoice." And as they on the King's
behalf charged him uprightly to minister indifferent justice
to the people without corruption or affection, so did he like
wise charge them again, that if they saw him at any time
in anything digress from any part of his duty, in that hon
ourable office, then, as they would discharge their own duty
and fidelity to God and the King, so should they not fail to
disclose it to his Grace, who otherwise might have just occa
sion to lay his fault wholly to their charge. While he was
Lord Chancellor (being at leisure, as seldom he was) one
of his sons-in-law on a time said merrily unto him, " When
Cardinal Wolsey was Lord Chancellor, not only divers of his
privy chamber, but such also as were his door keepers got

112 ROPER

great gain, and since he had married one of his daughters,
and gave still attendance upon him, he thought he might of
reason look for somewhat, where he indeed, because he was
ready himself to hear every man, poor and rich, and keep
no doors shut from them, could find none, which was to him
a great discouragement. And whereas else some for friend
ship, some for kindred, and some for profit, would gladly
have his furtherance in bringing them to his presence, if he
should now take anything of them he knew" (he said), "he
should do them great wrong, for that they might do as much
for themselves, as he could do for them : which condition al
though he thought in Sir Thomas More very commendable,
yet to him" (said he) "being his son he found it nothing
profitable." When he had told him this tale, " You say well,
son" (quoth he), "I do not mislike that you are of con
science so scrupulous, but many other ways be there (son),
that I may do both yourself good, and pleasure your friend
also. For sometimes may I in words stand your friend in
stead, and sometime may I by my letter help you and him,
or if he have a cause depending before me, at your request I
may hear him before another, or if his cause be not all the
best, yet may I move the parties to fall to some reasonable
end by arbitrament ; howbeit, this one thing I assure thee on
my faith, that if the parties will at my hand call for justice,
then were it my father stood on the one side and the devil on
the other side (his cause being good) the devil should have
right. So offered he his son (as he thought" he said) "as
much favour as with reason he could require." And that he
would for no respect digress from justice well appeared by
a plain example of another of his sons-in-law, Mr. Heron.
For when he, having a matter before him in the Chancery,
presuming too much of his favour, would by him in no wise
be persuaded to agree to any indifferent order, then made he
in conclusion a flat decree against him. This Lord Chan
cellor used commonly every afternoon to sit in his open hall,
to the intent, if any person had any suit unto him, they might
the more boldly come to his presence, and there open com
plaints before him. Whose manner was also to read every
bill himself, ere he would award any subpoena, which bear
ing matter sufficient worthy a subpoena, would he set his hand

LIFE OF MORE 113

unto, or else cancel it. Whensoever he passed through
Westminster Hall to his place in the Chancery by the Court
of the King's Bench, if his father, one of the judges there,
had been sat ere he came he would go into the same court,
and there reverently kneeling down in the sight of them all
duly ask his father's blessing. And if it fortuned that his
father and he at readings in Lincoln's Inn met together (as
they sometime did) notwithstanding his high office he would
offer in argument the pre-eminence to his father, though he
for his office sake would refuse to take it. And for the better
declaration of his natural affection towards his father, he not
only (when he lay on his death-bed) according to his duty
ofttimes with comfortable words most kindly came to visit
him; but also at his departure out of this world, with tears
taking him about the neck, most lovingly kissed and embraced
him, commending into the merciful hands of Almighty God,
and so departed from him. And as few injunctions as he
granted while he was Lord Chancellor, yet were they by
some of the judges of the law misliked, which I understand
ing, declared the same unto Sir Thomas More, who an
swered me, that they have little cause to find fault with him
therefore. And thereupon caused he one Mr. Crooke, chief
of the six clerks, to make a docket, containing the whole
number and causes of all such injunctions, as either in his
time had already passed, or at that present time depended
in any of the King's Courts at Westminster before him.
Which done he invited all the judges to dinner with him in
the Council Chamber at Westminster, where after dinner
when he had broken with them what complaints he had
heard of his injunctions, and moreover showed them both
the number and causes of every of them in order so plainly,
that, upon full debating of those matters, they were all en
forced to confess, that they, in like case, could have clone no
otherwise themselves, then offered he this unto them, that if
the justices of every court, unto whom the reformation of
rigour of the law, by reason of their office, most specially
appertained, would, upon reasonable considerations, by their
own discretions (as they were, as he thought, in conscience
bound) mitigate and reform the rigour of the law themselves,
there should from thenceforth by him no more injunctions

114 ROPER

be granted. Whereupon when they refused to condescend,
then said he unto them : " Forasmuch as yourselves, my lords,
drive me to that necessity for awarding our injunctions to
relieve the people's injury, you cannot hereafter any more
justly blame me;" after that he had said secretly unto me:
" I perceive, son, why they like not so to do. For they see,
that they may, by the verdict of the jury, cast off all quarrels
from themselves upon them, which they account their chief
defence, and therefore am I compelled to abide the adventure
of all such reports." And as little leisure as he had to be
occupied in the study of Holy Scripture, and controversies
upon religion, and such other like virtuous exercises, being in
manner continually busied about the affairs of the King and
the Realm, yet such watch and pain in setting forth of divers
profitable works in defence of the true Catholic religion
against heresies, secretly sown abroad in the Realm, assur
edly sustained he, that the bishops, to whose pastoral cure
the reformation thereof principally appertained, thinking
themselves by his travail (wherein, by their own confession,
with him they were not able to make comparison) of their
duty discharged, and considering that, for all his pains, and
prince's favour, he was no rich man, nor in yearly revenues
advanced as his worthiness deserved, therefore at a convoca
tion among themselves and other of the clergy, they agreed
together, and concluded upon a sum of four or five thou
sand pounds at the least (to my remembrance) for his pains
to recompense him. To the payment whereof every bishop,
abbot, and the rest of the clergy were after the rate of their
abilities liberal contributaries, hoping this portion should be
to his contentation. Whereupon Tunstall bishop of Durham,
Clarke bishop of Bath, and (as far as I can call to mind)
Vaysie bishop of Exeter, repaired unto him, declaring how
thankfully for his travails to their discharge In God's cause
bestowed, they reckoned themselves bound to consider him.
And that albeit they could not according to his deserts so
worthily as they gladly would requite him therefore, but re
serve that only to the goodness of God, yet for a small part of
recompense, in respect of his estate, so unequal to his worthi
ness, in the name of their whole Convocation, they presented
unto him that sum, which they desired him to take in good

LIFE OF MORE 115

part, who forsaking it, said, " That like as it were no small
comfort unto him, that so wise and learned men so well
accepted his simple doing, for which he intended never to
receive reward but at the hands of God only, to whom alone
was thanks thereof chiefly to be ascribed: so gave he most
humble thanks unto their honours all for their bountiful con
sideration." When they for all their importune pressing
upon him, that few would have went he could have refused
it, could by no means make him to take it, then they besought
him be content, yet that they might bestow it upon his wife
and children; " Not so, my Lords" quoth he), "I had liever
see it all cast into the Thames, than I, or any of mine should
have thereof the worth of one penny. For though your offer,
my Lords, be indeed very friendly and honourable, yet set I
so much by my pleasure, and so little by my profit, that I
would not (in good faith) for so much, and much more to
have lost the rest of so many a night's sleep, as was spent
upon the same. And yet wish I would, for all that, upon
conditions that all heresies were suppressed, that all my
books were burned, and my labour utterly lost." Thus de
parting, were they fain to restore to every man his own
again. This Lord Chancellor albeit he was to God and the
world well known of notable virtue, though not so of every
man considered, yet for the avoidance of singularity would
he appear no otherwise than other men in his apparel and
other outward behaviour. And albeit he appeared honoura
ble outwardly, and like one of his calling, yet inwardly he no
such vanities esteeming, secretly next his body wore a shirt
of hair, which my sister More, a young gentlewoman in the
summer, as he sat at supper singly in his doublet and hose,
wearing thereupon a plain shirt without ruff or collar, chan
cing to espy, began to laugh at it. My wife not ignorant of
his manner, perceiving the same privily told him of it, and
he being sorry that she saw it, presently amended it. He
used also sometimes to punish his body with whips, the cords
knotted, which was known only to my wife his eldest daugh
ter, whom for her secrecy above all other he specially trusted,
caused her, as need required, to wash the same shirt of hair.
Now shortly upon his entry into the high office of the Chan
cellorship, the King oftsoons again moved him to weigh and

116 ROPER

consider his greatest matter, who falling down upon his knees,
humbly besought his Highness to stand his gracious Sover
eign, as ever since his entry into his gracious service he had
found him, saying, " There was nothing in the world had
been so grievous to his heart as to remember he was not able,
as he willingly would with the loss of one of his limbs, for
that matter to find anything whereby he could serve his
Grace's contentment, as he that always bare in mind the most
godly words, that his Highness spake unto him at his first
coming into his noble service, the most virtuous lesson that
ever prince taught his servant, willing him first to look unto
God, and after God to him, as in good faith," he said, " he
did, or else might his Grace well account him his most un
worthy servant." To this the King answered, " that if he
could not with his conscience serve him, he was content to
accept his service otherwise, and use the advice of other his
learned Council, whose consciences could well enough agree
thereto, he would nevertheless continue his gracious favour
towards him, and never with that matter molest his con
science after." But Sir Thomas More in process of time
seeing the King fully determined to proceed forth in the
marriage of Queen Anne, and when he with the bishops and
nobles of the Higher House of Parliament, were, or the
furtherance of that marriage, commanded by the King to go
down to the Common House to show to them both what the
Universities as well of other parts beyond the seas, as at
Oxford and Cambridge had done in that behalf, and their
seals also testifying the same: all which matters, at the King's
request (not showing of what mind himself was therein),
he opened to the Lower House of the Parliament: neverthe
less doubting lest further attempts should after follow, which,
contrary to his conscience, by reason of his office he was
likely to be put unto, he made suit to the Duke of Norfolk,
his singular dear friend, to be a mean to the King, that he
might, with his Grace's favour, be discharged of that charge
able room of Chancellorship, wherein for certain infirmities
of his body, he pretended himself unable any longer to serve.
This Duke coming on a time to Chelsea to dine with him,
fortuned to find him at church singing in the choir with a
surplice on his back; to whom after service, as they went

LIFE OF MORE 117

home together arm in arm, the Duke said, " God body, God
body (my Lord Chancellor) a parish clerk, a parish clerk,
you dishonour the King and his office." " Nay," quoth Sir
Thomas More, smiling upon the Duke, " your Grace may not
think, that the King, your master and mine, will with me for
serving God his Master be offended, or thereby count his
office dishonoured." When the Duke, being thereunto so
licited by importunate suit, had at length obtained for Sir
Thomas More a clear discharge of his office, then at a time
convenient, by his Highness' appointment, repaired he to his
Grace, to yield up unto him the great seal, which, as his
Grace with thanks and praise for his worthy service in that
office courteously at his hands received, so pleased it his
Highness to say more unto him, that for the good service
he before had done him in any suit which he should after have
unto him. that either should concern his honour (for that
word it liked his Highness to use unto him) or that should
appertain unto his profit, he would find his Highness a good
and gracious lord unto him. After he had thus given over
his Chancellorship, and placed all his gentlemen and yeomen
with bishops and noblemen, and his eight watermen with the
Lord Audley, that after in the same office succeeded him, to
whom also he gave his great barge, then calling us that were
his children unto him, and asking our advice, how we might
now, in this decay of his ability, by the surrender of his
office so impaired, that he could not, as he was wont, and
gladly would bear out the whole charges of them all himself,
from henceforth be able to live and continue together, as he
wished we should; when he saw us all silent, and in that case
not ready to show our opinions unto him, " Then will I "
(said he) " show my poor mind unto you. I have been
brought up at Oxford, at an Inn of Chancery, at Lincoln's
Inn, and in the King's Court, so forth from the lowest degree
to the highest, and yet have I in yearly revenues little more
than one hundred pounds by the year at this present left me.
So that we must hereafter, if we like to live together. But
by my counsel it shall not be best for us to fall to the lowest
fare first. We will not therefore descend to Oxford fare,
nor to the fare of New Inn, but we will begin with Lincoln's
Inn diet, where many right worshipful and of good years do

118 ROPER

live full well, which if we find not ourselves the first year able
to maintain, then will we the next year after go one step
down to New Inn fare, wherewith many an honest man is
well contented. If that exceed our ability too, then will we
the next year after descend to Oxford fare, where many
grave, ancient, and learned Fathers be conversant continually,
which if our ability stretch not to maintain neither, then may
we yet with bags and wallets go a-begging together, and
hoping that for pity some good folks will give their charity
at every man's door to sing salve Regina, and so still keep
company merrily together." And whereas you have heard
before he was by the King from a very worshipful living
taken unto his Grace's service, with whom all the great and
weighty causes that concerned his Highness, of the Realm,
he consumed and spent with painful cares, travail, and
trouble as well beyond the seas, as within the Realm, in
effect the whole substance of his life, yet with all the gain
he got thereby (being never no wasteful spender thereof) '
was he not able, after the resignation of his office of the
Lord Chancellor, for the maintenance of himself, and such
as necessarily belonged unto him, sufficiently to find meat,
drink, fuel, apparel, and such other necessary charges. All
the land that ever he purchased before he was Lord Chan
cellor, was not, I am well assured, above the value of twenty
marks by the year, and after his debts paid he had not I
know (his chain excepted) in gold and silver left him the
worth of one hundred pounds. And whereas upon the holi
days, during High Chancellorship, one of his gentlemen, when
service at the church was down, ordinarily used to come to
my Lady, his wife's pew and say, " Madam, my Lord is
gone," the next holiday after the surrender of his office, and
departure of his gentlemen he came unto my Lady, his wife's
pew, himself, and making a low curtsey, said unto her,
" Madam, my Lord is gone." In the time somewhat before
his trouble, he would talk with his wife and children of the
joys of heaven and the pains of hell, of the lives of holy
martyrs, and of their grievous martyrdom, of their marvellous
patience, and of their passions and deaths, that they suffered
rather than they would offend God, and what an happy and
a blessed thing it was for the love of God to suffer loss of

121

goods, imprisonment, loss of lands, and life also. He would
further say unto them, that upon his faith if he might per
ceive his wife and children would encourage him to die in a
good cause, it should so comfort him, that for very joy
thereof it would make him merrily to run to death. He
showed them afore what trouble might fall unto him where
with, and the like virtuous talk he had so long before his
trouble encouraged them, that when he after fell in the
trouble indeed, his trouble to him was a great deal the less,
quid spicula pro-visa minus ladunt. Now upon this resign-
ment of his office came Sir Thomas Cromwell (then in the
King's high favour) to Chelsea to him on a message from the
King, wherein when they had throughly communed together,
" Mr. Cromwell " (quoth he), " you are now entered into the
service of a most noble, wise, and liberal prince; if you will
follow my poor advice you shall, in counsel giving unto his
Grace, ever tell him what he ought to do, but never tell him
what he is able to do, so shall you show yourself a true
faithful servant, and a right worthy Councillor. For if the
lion knew his own strength, hard were it for any man to rule
him." Shortly thereupon was there a commission directed
to Cranmer, then Archbishop of Canterbury to determine the
matter of the matrimony between the King and Queen
Katherine at St. Alban's, where according to the King's mind
that was throughly finished, who pretending that he had no
justice at the Pope's hands, from thenceforth sequestered
himself from the See of Rome, and so married the Lady Anne
Bullen, which Sir Thomas More understanding, said unto
me, " God give grace, son, that these matters within a while
be not confirmed with oaths." I at that time seeing no
likelihood thereof, yet fearing lest for his forespeaking that
would the sooner come to pass, waxed therefore for his saying
much offended with him. It fortuned not long before the
coming of the Queen Anne through the streets of London
from the Tower to Westminster to her Coronation, that he
received a letter from the Bishops of Durham, Bath, and
Winchester, requesting him to bear them company from the
Tower to the Coronation and also to take £20 that by the
bearer thereof they had sent him to buy a gown with, which
he thankfully received, and at home still tarrying, at their

11§0 ROPER

next meeting said merrily unto them, " My Lords, in the
letters which you lately sent me, you required two things of
me, the one whereof since I was so well contented to grant
you, the other therefore I thought I might be the bolder to
deny you."

In continuance when the King saw that he could by no
manner of benefits win him to his side, then went he about
by terrors and threats to drive him thereunto, the beginning
of which trouble grew by occasion of a certain nun dwelling
in Canterbury, for her virtue and holiness among the people
not a little esteemed, unto whom for that cause many re
ligious persons, Doctors of Divinity, and divers other of
good worship of the laity used to resort, who affirming that
she had revelations from God to give the King warning of
his wicked life, and of the abuses of the sword and authority
committed to him by God, and understanding my Lord of
Rochester, Bishop Fisher, to be a man of notable virtuous
living and learning, repaired to Rochester, and there dis
closed unto him all her revelations, desiring his advice .and
counsel therein, which the Bishop perceiving might well
stand with the laws of God and his Church advised her (as
she before had warning and intended) to go to the King her
self, and to let him understand the whole circumstance there
of, whereupon she went unto the King, and told him all her
revelations, and returned home again. And in short space
after, she making a voyage to the Nun of Sion by the means
of one Mr. Reynolds a father of that house there fortuned
concerning such secrets as she had revealed unto her, some
part whereof seemed to touch the matter of the King's su
premacy and marriage (which shortly thereupon followed) to
tMiter into talk with Sir Thomas More; who notwithstanding
he might well at that time without danger of any law
(though after, as himself had prognosticated before, those
matters were established by statutes and confirmed by oaths)
freely and safely have talked with her therein ; nevertheless,
in all the communication between them (as in process of
time it appeared) had always so discreetly demeaned him
self, that he deserved not to be blamed, but contrariwise to
be commended and praised. And had he not been one that
in all his great office, and doings for the King and Realm

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together, had from all corruption of wrong doing, or bribes
taking, kept himself so clear; that no man was able there
with to blemish him, it would without doubt (in this trouble
some time of the King's wrath and indignation towards
him) have been deeply laid to his charge, and of the King's
Highness favourably accepted, as in the case of one Parnell
that most manifestly appeared: against whom Sir Thomas
More while he was Lord Chancellor, at the suit of one
Vaughan his adversary had made a decree. This Parnell
to the King's Highness had grievously complained that Sir
Thomas More, lor making the decree, had of the same
Vaughan (unable for the gout to travel abroad himself)
by the hands of his wife taken a fair great gilt cup for a
bribe, who thereupon by the King's appointment being called
before the Council, where that matter was heinously laid
to his charge, forthwith confessed, that forasmuch as that
cup was long after the aforesaid decree brought unto him
for a new year's gift, he upon her importunate pressing
upon him, therefore of courtesy refused not to take it.
Then the Lord of Wiltshire (for hatred of his religion pre-
ferrer of this suit) with much rejoicing said unto the Lords,
" Lo my Lords, lo, did I not tell you that you should find this
matter true?" "Whereupon Sir Thomas More desired their
worships, that as they had courteously heard him tell the
one part of his tale, so they would vouchsafe of their honours
indifferently to hear the other, after which obtained, he
further declared unto them, that albeit indeed he had with
much work received that cup, yet immediately thereupon he
caused his butler to fill that with wine, and of that cup
drank to her, and that when she had pledged him, then as
freely as her husband had given it unto him, even so freely
gave he the same unto her again, to give unto her husband
for his new year's gift, which at his instant request, though
much against her will, yet at length she was fain to receive,
as herself and certain other there presently deposed before
them. Thus was the great mountain turned scarce unto a
mole-hill. So I remember that another time on a new year's
day there came unto him one Mrs. Crocker, a rich widow
(for whom with no small pains he had made a decree in the
Chancery against the Lord of Arundel) to present him with

122 ROPER

a pair of gloves and £40 in angels in them for a new year's
gift, of whom he thankfully received the gloves, but refusing
the money said unto her, " Mistress, since that were against
good manners to forsake a gentlewoman's new year's gift, I
am content to receive your gloves, but as for your money I
utterly refuse : " so much against her mind enforced he her to
take her gold again. And one Mr. Gresham likewise having
a cause depending in the Chancery against him, sent him
for a new year's gift a fair gilt cup, the fashion whereof he
very well liking caused one of his own (though not in his
fantasy of so good a fashion) yet better in value, to be
brought out of his chamber, which he willed the messenger
to deliver to his mistress in recompense, and under other con
ditions would he in no wise receive it. Many things more
of like effect for the declaration of his innocence and clear
ness from corruption, or evil affection, could I here rehearse
besides, which for tediousness omitting, I refer to the readers
by these few fore-remembered examples with their own judg
ments wisely to consider. At this Parliament was there put
into the Lords' House a bill to attaint the nun, and divers
other religious persons of high treason; and the Bishop of
Rochester, Sir Thomas More, and certain others of mis-
prision of treason: the King presupposing of likelihood this
bill would be to Sir Thomas More so troublous and terrible,
that that would force him to relent and condescend to his
request, wherein his Grace was much deceived. To which
bill Sir Thomas More was a suitor personally to be received
in his own defence to make answer, but the King not liking
that, assigned the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord Chan
cellor, the Duke of Norfolk, and Mr. Cromwell, at a day
and place appointed to call Sir Thomas More before them, at
which time I thinking I had good opportunity, earnestly ad
vised him to labour unto these Lords for the help of his dis
charge out of the Parliament Bill; who answered me, he
would: and at his coming before them according to their
appointment, they entertained him very friendly, willing him
to sit down with them, which in no wise he would. Then
began the Lord Chancellor to declare unto him how many
ways the King had showed his love and favour toward him,
how fain he would have had him continue in his office, how

LIFE OF MORE 123

glad he would have been to have heaped more benefits upon
him, and finally, how he could ask no worldly honour, or
profit at his Highness' hands, that were likely to be denied
him; hoping by the declaration of the King's kindness and
favour towards him to provoke him to recompense his Grace
with the like again, and unto those things that the Parlia
ment, the Bishops, and Universities had already passed to
yield his consent. To this Sir Thomas Wore mildly answered
saying, " No man living is there (my Lords) that would with
better will do the thing that should be acceptable to the
King's Highness than I, which must needs confess his mani
fold benefits, and bountiful goodness most benignly bestowed
on me. Howbeit I verily hoped that I should never have
heard of this matter more, considering that I have from time
to time always from the beginning so plainly and truly de
clared my mind unto his Grace, which his Highness to me
ever seemed, like a most gracious prince, very well to accept,
never minding, as he said, to molest me more therewith.
Since which time any further thing that was able to move
me to any change could I never find, and if I could, there
is none in all the world that could have been gladder of it
than I." Many things more were there of like sort on both
sides uttered. But in the end when they saw they could by
no means of persuasions remove him from his former deter
minations, then began they more terribly to touch him, tell
ing him that the King's Highness had given them in com
mandment (if they could by no gentleness win him) in his
name with his great ingratitude to charge him, that never was
there servant to his master so villainous, nor subject to his
prince so traitorous as he. For he by his subtle sinister
sleights, most unnaturally procuring and provoking him to
set forth a book of the assertion of Seven Sacraments, and
in maintenance of the Pope's authority, had caused him to
his dishonor throughout all Christendom to put a sword in
the Pope's hands to fight against himself. When they had
thus laid forth all the terrors they could imagine against
him: "My Lords" (quoth he) "These terrors be the argu
ments for children, and not for me. But to answer that
wherewith you do chiefly burden me, I believe the King's
Highness of his honour will never lay that to my charge.

124 ROPER

For none is there that in that point can say more in mine
excuse then his Highness himself, who right well knoweth
that I was never procurer or councillor of his Majesty there
unto but after that it was finished, by his Grace's appoint
ment, and consent of the makers of the same, only a sorter
out, and placer of the principal matters therein contained;
wherein when I found the Pope's authority highly advanced,
and with strong arguments mightily defended, I said unto his
Grace, I must put your Grace in remembrance of one
thing, and that is this, The Pope (as your Grace knoweth)
is a Prince as you are,, and in league with all other Christian
Princes, that may hereafter so fall out, that your Grace and
he may vary upon some points of the league, whereupon may
grow some breach of amity and war between you both; I
think it best therefore that that place be amended, and his
authority more slenderly touched. Nay (quoth his Grace)
that it shall not, we are so much bounden unto the See of
Rome, that we cannot do too much honour unto it. Then
did I put him further in remembrance of the statute of
Praemunire, whereby a good part of the Pope's pastoral cure
here was paid away. To that answered his Highness, what
soever impediment be to the contrary, we will set forth that
authority to the uttermost. For we received from that See
our Crown Imperial; which till his Grace with his own mouth
told me I never heard of before. So that I trust when his
Grace shall be truly informed of this, and call to his gracious
remembrance my doings in that behalf, his Highness will
never speak of it more, but clear me throughly therein him
self," And thus displeasantly departed they. Then took Sir
Thomas More his boat towards his house at Chelsea, wherein
by the way he was very merry, and for that was I nothing
sorry, hoping that he had gotten himself discharged out of
the Parliament Bill. When he was come home, then walked
we two alone into his garden together, where I desirous to
know how he had sped, said, " Sir, I trust all is well, because
you are so merry." " That is so, indeed (son Roper) I thank
God" (quoth he). "Are you put out of the Parliament Bill
then?" said I. "By my troth (son Roper)," quoth he, "I
never remembered it." " Never remembered it, Sir ?" quoth
I. " A case that toucheth yourself so near, and us all for

LIFE OP MORE 125

your sake. I am sorry to hear it. For I verily trusted when
I saw you so merry, that all had been well." Then said he,
" Wilt thou know, son Roper, why I was so merry? " " That
would I gladly, Sir," quoth I. " In good faith I rejoice, son,"
(quoth he), "that I had given the devil so foul a fall, and
that with those Lords I had gone so far, as without great
shame, I could never go back again." At which words
waxed I very sad. For though himself liked it well, yet
liked it me but a little. Now upon the report made by the
Lord Chancellor, and the other Lords unto the King of all
their whole discourse had with Sir Thomas More, the King
was so highly offended with him, that he plainly told them he
was fully determined the said Parliament Bill should undoubt
edly proceed forth against him. To whom my Lord Chan
cellor and the rest of the Lords said, that they perceived the
Lords of the Upper House so precisely bent to hear him,
in his own case, make answer for himself, that if he were
not put out of the Parliament Bill, it would without fail be
utterly an overthrow of all. But for all this needs would
the King have his own will therein, or else he said that at
the passing thereof he would be personally present himself.
Then the Lord Audley and the rest, seeing him so vehemently
set thereupon, on their knees most humbly besought his
Majesty to forbear the same, considering, that if he should
in his own presence receive an overthrow, it would not only
encourage his subjects ever after to contemn him, but also
throughout all Christendom, redound to his dishonour for
ever adding thereunto, that they mistrusted not in time to
find some meet matter to serve his Grace's turn better. For
in this case of the nun he was accounted so innocent and
clear, that for his dealing therein men reckoned him worthier
of praise than reproof. Whereupon at length through their
earnest persuasion, he was content to condescend to their
petition. And on the morrow after, Mr. Cromwell meeting
me in the Parliament House willed me to tell my father, that
he was put out of the Parliament Bill. But because I had
appointed to dine that day in London, I sent the message
by my servant to my wife at Chelsea, whereof she informed
her father, " in faith Meg " (quoth he) " Quod defertur, non
aufcrtitr." After this as the Duke of Norfolk and Sir Thomas

126 ROPER

More chanced to fall in familiar talk together, the Duke
said unto him, "By the Mass (Mr. More) it is perilous
striving with Princes, and therefore I would wish you some
what to incline to the King's pleasure. For by God's body
(Mr. More) Indignatio principis mors est." " Is that all, my
Lord? " (quoth he). " Is there (in good faith) no more dif
ference between your Grace and me, but that I shall die to
day and you to-morrow?" So fell it out within a month or
thereabout after the making of the Statute for the oath of
Supremacy and Matrimony, that all the priests of London
and Westminster, and no temporal men but he were sent
to appear at Lambeth before the Bishop of Canterbury, the
Lord Chancellor, and Secretary Cromwell, Commissioners,
there, to tender the oath unto them. Then Sir Thomas
More, as his accustomed manner was always ere he entered
into any matter of importance (as when he was first chosen
of the King's Privy Council, when he was sent Ambassador,
appointed Speaker of the Parliament, made Lord Chancellor,
or when he took any like weighty matter upon him) to go to
the church, and to be confessed, to hear mass, and be housled;
so did he likewise in the morning early the selfsame day
that he was summoned to appear before the Lords at Lam
beth. And whereas he used evermore before, at his de
parture from his house and children (whom he loved ten
derly) to have them bring him to his boat, and there to kiss
them all, and bid them farewell, then would he suffer none of
them forth of the gate to follow him, but pulled the wicket
after him, and shut them all from him, and with an heavy
heart (as by his countenance it appeared) with me, and our
four servants, there took his boat towards Lambeth. Where
in sitting still sadly awhile, at the last he rounded me in the
ear and said, " Son Roper, I thank our Lord, the field is
won." What he meant thereby, then, I wist not. Yet loath
to seem ignorant I answered, " Sir, I am thereof very glad."
But as I conjectured afterwards it was for that the love he
had to God wrought in him so effectually, that it conquered
in him all his carnal affectations utterly. At his coming to
Lambeth, how wisely he behaved himself before the Com
missioners, at the ministration of the oath unto him, may be
found in certain letters of his (sent to my wife) remaining

LIFE OF MORE 127

in a great book of his works: where by the space of four
days, he was betaken to the custody of the Abbot of West
minster, during which time the King consulted with his
Council what order were meet to be taken with him. And
albeit in the beginning they were resolved, that with an oath
not to be known whether he had to the supremacy been sworn,
or what he thought thereof, he should be discharged, yet did
Queen Anne, by her importunate clamour, so sore exasperate
the King against him, that, contrary to his former reso
lution, he caused the oath of the supremacy to be ministered
unto him, who, albeit he made a discreet qualified answer,
nevertheless was forthwith committed to the Tower, who
as he was going thitherward, wearing, as he commonly did,
a chain of gold about his neck, Sir Richard Cromwell (that
had the charge of his conveyance thither) advised him to
send home his chain to his wife, or some of his children,
" Nay, Sir (quoth he), that will I not. For if I were taken
in the field by my enemies, I would they should somewhat
fare the better by me." At whose landing Mr. Lieutenant
at the Tower gate was ready to receive him, where the
porter demanded of him his upper garment " Mr. Porter"
(quoth he) " here it is," and took off his cap and delivered
him, saying, " I am very sorry it is no better for you."
" Nay, Sir" (quoth the Porter), "I must have your gown,"
and so was he by Mr. Lieutenant conveyed into his lodging,
where he called unto him one John Awood his own servant
there appointed to attend upon him, who could neither write
nor read, and swore him before the Lieutenant that if he
should hear, or see him at any time, speak or write any man
ner of thing against the King, the Council, or the state of
the Realm, he should open it to the Lieutenant, that the Lieu
tenant might incontinent reveal it to the Council. Now
when Sir Thomas More had remained in the Tower a little
more than a month, my wife, longing to see her father, by
her earnest suit at length gat leave to go to him. At whose
coming (after the seven psalms and litany said, which when
soever she came to him, ere he fell in talk of any worldly
matters, he used accustomably to say with her) among other
communication he said unto her, " I believe (Meg) that they
that have put me here, ween they have done me a high dis-

128 ROPER

pleasure. But I assure you on my faith, mine own dear
daughter, if it had not been for my wife and you that be my
children, whom I account the chief part of my charge, I
would not have failed, long ere this, to have closed myself in
as strait a room and straiter too. But since I come hither
without mine own desert, I trust that God of his goodness
will discharge me of my care, and with his gracious help sup
ply my want among you. I find no cause (I thank God, Meg)
to reckon myself in worse case here, than in mine own house.
For methinketh God maketh me a wanton, and setteth me on
his lap and dandleth me." Thus by his gracious demeanour
in tribulations appeared it, that all the troubles that ever
chanced unto him by his patient sufferance thereof were to
him no painful punishment, but of his patience profitable
exercises. And at another time, when he had first questioned
with my wife a while of the order of his wife and children,
and state of his house in his absence, he asked her how Queen
Anne did: "In faith, father" (quoth she), "never better."
"Never better, Meg?" quoth he. "Alas (Meg) alas, it
pitieth me to remember, in what misery she (poor soul)
shortly shall come." After this Mr. Lieutenant coming into
his chamber to visit him, rehearsed the benefits and friend
ships that he had many times received at his hands, and how
much bounden he was therefore friendly to entertain him and
make him good cheer, which since (the case standing as it
did) he could not do without the King's indignation, he
trusted (he said) he would accept his good will, and such
poor cheer as he had. "Mr. Lieutenant" (quoth he again),
" I verily believe, as you may, so are you my good friends
indeed, and would (as you say) with your best cheer enter
tain me, for the which I most heartily thank you. And assure
yourself (Mr. Lieutenant)," quoth he, "I do not mislike my
cheer, but whensoever I do so, then thrust me out of your
doors." Whereas the oath confirming the supremacy and
matrimony was by the first statute comprised in few words,
the Lord Chancellor and Mr. Secretary did of their own
heads add more words unto it, to make it appear to the
King's ears more pleasant and plausible. And that oath so
amplified caused they to be ministered to Sir Thomas More
and to all other throughout the Realm, which Sir Thomas

LIFE OF MORE 129

perceiving said unto my wife: "I may tell thee (Meg) they
thr.t have committed me hither for refusing of the oath, not
agreeable with the statute, are not able by their own law to
justify my imprisonment. And surely (daughter) it is a
great pity that a Christian prince should (by a flexible coun
cil ready to follow his affections, and by a weak clergy lack
ing grace constantly to stand to their learning) with flattery
so shameful to be abused." But at length the Lord Chan
cellor and Mr. Secretary, espying their oversight in that be
half, were fain afterwards to find the means that another
statute should be made for the confirmation of the oath so
amplified with their additions. After Sir Thomas More had
given over his office and all other worldly doings therewith,
to the intent he micrht from thenceforth the more quietly
set himself to the service of God, then made he a conveyance
for the disposition of his lands, reserving for himself an
"State thereof only for the term of his life, and after his
decease assuring some part of the same to his wife, some to
his son's wife for a jointure, in consideration that she was
an inheritrix in possession of more than an hundred pounds
laud by the year, and some to me and my wife in recompense
of our marriage money with divers remainders over, all
which conveyance and assurance was perfectly finished long
before that matter, whereupon she was attainted, was made
an offence, and yet after by statute clearly voided ; and so
were all his lands, that he had to his wife and children by the
said conveyance in such sort assured, contrary to the order
of law, taken away from them, and brought into the King's
hands, saving that portion that he had appointed to my wife
and me, which although he had in the foresaid conveyance
reserved, as he did the rest, for term of his life unto him
self, nevertheless, upon further consideration after by an
other conveyance he gave that same immediately to me,
and my wife in possession. And so because the statute had
undone only the first conveyance, giving no more to the King
but so much as passed by that, the second conveyance, where
by it was given unto my wife and me, being dated two days
after was without the compass of the statute, and so was our
portion to us by that means clearly reserved. As Sir Thomas
More in the Tower chanced on a time looking out of his
HC xxxvi (E)

130 ROPER

window to behold one Mr. Reynolds, a religious, learned and
virtuous father of Sion, and three monks of the Charterhouse
for the matter of the supremacy going out of the Tower to
execution, he, as one longing in that journey to have accom
panied them, said unto my wife, then standing there beside
him, " Lo, dost thou not see (Meg) that these blessed fathers
be now as cheerful going to their deaths, as bridegrooms to
their marriages? Wherefore thereby mayest thou see (mine
own good daughter) what a difference there is between such
as have in effect spent all their days in a strait, hard, peniten
tial, and painful life religiously, and such as have in the
world, like worldly wretches, as thy poor father hath done,
consumed all the time in pleasure and ease licentiously. For
God, considering their long-continued life in most sore and
grievous penance, will not longer suffer them to remain here
in this vale of misery, and iniquity, but speedily hence take
them to the fruition of his everlasting deity: whereas thy
silly father (Meg) that, like a most wicked caitiff, hath
passed forth the whole course of his miserable life most piti
fully, God, thinking him not worthy so soon to come to that
eternal felicity, leaveth him here yet, still in the world further
to be plunged and turmoiled with misery." Within a while
after Mr. Secretary (coming to him into the Tower from
the King) pretended much friendship towards him, and for
his comfort told him, that the King's Highness was his good
and gracious lord and minded not with any matter, wherein
he should have any cause of scruple, from henceforth to
trouble his conscience. As soon as Mr. Secretary was gone,
to express what comfort he conceived of his words, he wrote
with a coal (for ink then he had none) these verses fol
lowing: —

"Ay flattering fortune look you never so fair,
Nor never so pleasantly begin to smile,
As though thou wouldst my ruins all repair
During my life thou shalt not me beguile,
Trust I shall, God, to enter in a while
Thy haven of heaven sure and uniform,
Ever after thy calm look I for no storm."

When Sir Thomas More had continued a good while in
the Tower, my lady his wife obtained licence to see him,

LIFE OF MORE 131

who at her first coming like a simple woman, ana somewhat
worldly too, with this manner of salutations bluntly saluted
him, " What the good year, Mr. More," quoth she, " I marvel
that you, that have been always hitherunto taken for so
wise a man, will now so play the fool to lie here in this
close filthy prison, and be content to be shut up among
mice and rats, when you might be abroad at your liberty,
and with the favour and good will both of the King and
his Council, if you would but do as all the bishops and best
learned of this Realm have done. And seeing you have
at Chelsea a right fair house, your library, your books, your
gallery, your garden, your orchards, and all other necessaries
so handsomely about you, where you might, in the company
of me your wife, your children, and household be merry,
I muse what a God's name you mean here still thus fondly
to tarry." After he had a while quietly heard her, with a
cheerful countenance he said unto her, " I pray thee good
Mrs. Alice, tell me, tell me one thing." "What is that?"
(quoth she). "Is not this house as nigh heaven as mine
own?" To whom she, after her accustomed fashion, not lik
ing such talk, answered, " Tille valle, tillc z'allc." " How say
you, Mrs. Alice, is it not so?" He quoth. "Bone Dcus, bone
Dens, man, will this gear never be left?" quoth she.
" Well then, Mrs. Alice, if it be so, it is very well. For I
see no great cause why I should much joy of my gay
house, or of anything belonging thereunto, when, if I
should but seven years lie buried under the ground, and
then arise and come thither again, I should not fail to find
some .therein that would bid me get me out of the doors,
and tell me that were none of mine. What cause have I
then to like such an house as would so soon forget his mas
ter?" So her persuasions moved him but a little. Not long
after came there to him the Lord Chancellor, the Dukes of
Norfolk and Suffolk, with Mr. Secretary, and certain others
of the Privy Council at two separate times, by all policies
possible procuring him either precisely to confess the su
premacy, or precisely to deny it. Whereunto (as appeareth
by his examination in the said great book) they could
never bring him. Shortly hereupon Mr. Rich (afterwards
Lord Rich) then newly the King's Solicitor, Sir Richard

132 ROPER

Southwell, and Mr. Palmer, servant to the Secretary, were
sent to Sir Thomas More into the Tower, to fetch away his
books from him. And while Sir Richard Southwell and
Mr. Palmer were busy in trussing up of his books, Mr.
Rich pretending friendly talk with him, among other things
of a set course, as it seemed, said thus unto him: " Foras
much as it is well known (Mr. More) that you are a man
both wise and well learned, as well in the laws of the
Realm, as otherwise, I pray you therefore, Sir, let me be
so bold as of good will to put unto you this case. Admit
there were, Sir," quoth he, " an Act of Parliament, that
all the Realm should take me for the King, would not you
(Mr. More) take me for the King?" "Yes, Sir," quoth
Sir Thomas More, " that would I." " I put the case fur
ther " (quoth Mr. Rich) "that there were an Act of Parlia
ment that all the Realm should take me for the Pope;
would then not you, Mr. More, take me for the Pope?"
" For answer," quoth Sir Thomas More, " to your first case,
the Parliament may well (Mr. Rich) meddle with the state
of temporal princes ; but to make answer to your second
case, I will put you this case. Suppose the Parliament
would make a law, that God should not be God, would you
then, Mr. Rich, say God were not God?" "No, Sir,"
quoth he, " that would I not, since no Parliament may make
any such law." " No more " (said Sir Thomas More, as
Mr. Rich reported of him) "could the Parliament make the
King supreme head of the Church." Upon whose only
report was Sir Thomas More indicted of treason upon the
Statute in which it was made treason to deny the King to
be supreme head of the Church, into which indictment
were put these words, maliciously, traitorously, and dia
bolically. When Sir Thomas More was brought from the
Tower to Westminster Hall to answer the indictment, and at
the King's Bench bar before the judges thereupon arraigned,
he openly told them that he would upon that indictment
have abiden in law, but he thereby should have been driven
to confess of himself the matter indeed, which was the
denial of the King's supremacy, which he protested was
untrue, wherefore thereto he pleaded not guilty, and so
reserved unto himself advantage to be taken of the body

LIFE OF MORE 133

of the matter after verdict, to avoid that indictment. And
moreover added, " if those only odious terms, maliciously,
traitorously, and diabolically were put out of the indictment,
he saw nothing therein justly to charge him." And for
proof to the jury that Sir Thomas More was guilty to this
treason, Mr. Rich was called hy them to give evidence unto
them, as he did; against whom Sir Thomas More began
in this wise to say: "If I were a man (my Lords) that
did not regard an oath, I need not (as it is well known) in
this place, at this time, nor in this case to stand as an
accused person. And if this oath of yours (Mr. Rich) be
true, then pray I that I may never see God in the face,
which I would not say, were it otherwise, to win the whole
world." Then recited he unto the discourse of all their
communication in the Tower according to the truth, and
said, " In faith, Mr. Rich, I am sorrier for your perjury
than for mine own peril, and you shall understand that
neither I, nor no man else to my knowledge ever took you
to be a man of such credit as in any matter of importance
I, or any other would at any time vouchsafe to c<!"?muni-
cate with you. And (as you know) of no small \\hiie I
have been acquainted with you and your conversation, who
have known you from your youth hitherto. For we long
dwelled both in one parish together, where, as yourself
can tell (I am sorry you compel me so to say) you were
esteemed very light of your tongue, a great dicer, and of not
commendable fame. And so in your house at the Temple
(where hath been your chief bringing up) were you likewise
accounted. Can it therefore seem likely unto your honour
able Lordships, that I would, in so weighty a cause, so far
overshoot myself, as to trust Mr. Rich (a man of me
always reputed for one of so little truth, as your Lordships
have heard) so far above my sovereign Lord the King,
or any of his noble councillors, that I would unto him utter
the secrets of my conscience touching the King's supremacy,
the special point and only mark at my hands so long sought
for? A thing which I never did, nor never would, after the
Statute thereof made, reveal it, either to the King's High
ness himself, or to any of his honourable councillors, as
it is not unknown unto your house, at sundry times, and

134 ROPER

several, sent from his Grace's own person unto the Tower
to me for none other purpose. Can this in your judgments
(my Lords) seem likely to be true? And if I had so done
indeed, my Lords, as Mr. Rich hath sworn, seeing it was
spoke but in familiar secret talk, nothing affirming, and only
in putting of cases, without other displeasant circumstances,
it cannot justly be taken to be spoken maliciously. And
where there is no malice there can be no offence. And
over this I can never think (my Lords) that so many worthy
bishops, so many honourable personages, and many other
worshipful, virtuous, wise, and well-learned men, as at
the making of that law were in the Parliament assembled,
ever meant to have any man punished by death, in whom
there could be found no malice, taking malitia pro male-
volentia. For if malitia be generally taken for sin, no man
is there then that can thereof excuse himself. Quia si
dixerimus quod peccatum non habemus, nosmetipsos se-
ducimus, et veritas in nobis non est. And only this word
maliciously is in the Statute material, as this term forcible
is in the statute of forcible entries ; by which statute
if a man enter peaceably, and put not his adversary out
forcibly, it is no offence, but if he put him out forcibly,
then by that statute it is an offence. And so shall he be pun
ished by this term forcible. Besides this, the manifold good
ness of my sovereign Lord the King's Highness himself
that hath been so many ways my singular good Lord and
Gracious Sovereign, that hath so dearly loved me, and
trusted me even at my first coming into his noble service
with the dignity of his honourable Privy Council, vouch
safing to admit me to offices of great credit, and worship
most liberally advanced me, and finally with that weighty
room of his Grace's high Chancellorship (the like whereof he
never did to temporal men before) next to his own royal
person the highest officer in this noble realm, so far above
my merits or qualities able and meet therefore, of his
incomparable benignity honoured and exalted me by the
space of twenty years and more, showing his continual
favour towards me; and (until, at mine own poor suit, it
pleased his Highness, giving me licence, with his Majesty's
favour, to bestow the residue of my life wholly for the

LIFE OF MORE 135

provision of my soul in the service of God, of his special
goodness thereof to discharge and unburden me) most
benignly heaped honours more and more upon me ; all this
his Highness' goodness, I say, so long continued towards
me, were, in my mind (my Lords), matter sufficient to
convince this slanderous surmise (by this man) so wrongfully
imagined against me." Mr. Rich seeing himself so dis
proved, and his credit so foully defaced, caused Sir Richard
Southwell and Mr. Palmer, that at that time of their
communication were in the chamber, to be sworn what
words had passed betwixt them. Whereupon Mr. Palmer
on his deposition said, that he was so busy about the truss
ing up Sir Thomas More's books in a sack, that he took
no heed to their talk. Sir Richard Southwell likewise upon
his deposition said, that because he was appointed only to
look to the conveyance of his books, he gave no ear unto
them. After this, were there many other reasons (not now
in my rememberance) by Sir Thomas More in his own
defence alleged, to the discredit of Mr. Rich his foresaid
evidence, and proof of the clearness of his own conscience.
All which notwithstanding the jury found him guilty, and
incontinent upon the verdict the Lord Chancellor (for that
matter chief commissioner) beginning in judgment against
him, Sir Thomas More said to him, " My Lord, when I
was towards the law, the manner in such case was to ask
the prisoner before judgment, why judgment should not
be given against him?" Whereupon the Lord Chancellor
staying his judgment, wherein he had partly proceeded,
demanded of him what he was able to say to the contrary?
Who then in this sort mildly made answer : " Forasmuch as,
my Lord" (quoth he), "this indictment is grounded upon
an Act of Parliament, directly oppugnant to the laws of
God and his holy Church, the supreme government of which,
or of any part thereof, may no temporal prince presume by
any law to take upon him as rightfully belonging to the
See of Rome, a spiritual pre-eminence by the mouth of our
Saviour himself, personally present upon the earth, to
St. Peter and his successors, bishops of the same see, by
special prerogative, granted, it is therefore in law amongst
Christian men insufficient to charge any Christian." And

136 ROPER

for proof thereof like as amongst divers other reasons and
authorities he declared That this Realm, being but one
member and small part of the Church, might not make a
particular law dischargeable with the general law of Christ's
holy Catholic Church, no more than the City of London,
being but one poor member in respect of the whole Realm,
might make a law against an Act of Parliament to bind
the whole Realm unto : so further showed he, that it was
contrary both to the laws and statutes of this land, yet
unrepealed, as they might evidently perceive in Magna
charta, Quod Ecclesia Anglic ana libera sit et hob eat omnia
jura sua intcgra, at lib cr fates suas illcesas, and contrary to
that sacred oath which the King's Highness himself, and
every other Christian prince always at their coronations
received, alleging moreover, that no more might this Realm
of England refuse obedience to the See of Rome, than might
the child refuse obedience to his natural father. For as
St. Paul said of the Corinthians, " I have regenerated you
my children in Christ," so might St. Gregory Pope of Rome
(of whom by St. Augustine his messenger we first received
the Christain faith) of us English men truly say, " You are
my children, because I have given to you everlasting salva
tion, a f?r better inheritance than any carnal father can
leave unto his child, and by spiritual generation have made
you my spiritual children in Christ." Then was it thereunto
by the Lord Chancellor answered, that seeing all the bishops,
universities, and best learned men of the Realm had to this
Act agreed, it was much marvelled that he alone against
them all would so stiffly stick and vehemently argue there
against. To that Sir Thomas More replied saying, "If the
number of bishops and universities be so material, as your
Lordships seemeth to take it, then see I little cause (my
Lords) why that thing in my conscience should make any
change. For I nothing doubt, but that though not in this
Realm, yet in Christendom about they be not the least part,
that be of my mind therein. But if I should speak of those
that be already dead (of whom many be now saints in
heaven) I am very sure it is the far greater part of them,
that all the while they lived, thought in this case that way
that I think now. And therefore am I not bound (my Lords)

LIFE OF MORE 137

to conform my conscience to the council of one realm against
the General Council of Christendom." Now when Sir
Thomas More, for the avoiding of the indictment, had taken
as many exceptions as he thought meet and more reasons
than I can now remember alleged, the Lord Chancellor,
loath to have the burden of the judgment wholly to depend
upon himself, then openly asked the advice of the Lord
Fitz-James, then the Lord Chief Justice of the King's
Bench, and joined in commission with him, whether this
indictment were sufficient or not? Who like a wise man
answered, " My Lords all, by St. Julian " (that was ever
his oath) " I must needs confess, that if the Act of Parlia
ment be not unlawful, then is not the indictment in my
conscience insufficient." Whereupon the Lord Chancellor
said to the rest of the Lords, " Lo, my Lords, lo, you hear
what my Lord Chief Justice saith," and so immediately gave
the judgment against him. After which ended, the commis
sioners yet courteously offered him, if he had anything else
to allege for his defence to grant him favourable audience,
who answered, " More have I not to say (my Lords) but like
as the blessed Apostle St. Paul, as we read in the Acts of
the Apostles, was present, and consented to the death of
St. Stephen, and kept their clothes that stoned him to death,
and yet be they now both twain holy saints in heaven, and
shall continue there friends for ever, so I verily trust and
shall therefore right heartily pray, that though your Lord
ships have now in earth been judges to my condemnation,
we may yet hereafter in heaven merrily all meet together
to our everlasting salvation." Thus much touching Sir
Thomas More's arraignment, being not thereat present my
self, have I by the credible report of Sir Anthony Sumtleger
Knight, and partly of Sir Richard Heywood, and John Webb
Gentleman, with others of good credit, at the hearing thereof
present themselves, as far forth as my poor wit and memory
would serve me, here truly rehearsed unto you. Now after
this arraignment departed he from the bar to the Tower
again, led by Sir William Kingston, a tall, strong, and
comely knight, Constable of the Tower, his very dear
friend, who, when he had brought him from Westminster
to the Old Swan towards the Tower, there with a heavy

138 ROPER

heart, the tears running down his cheeks, bade him farewell.
Sir Thomas More seeing him so sorrowful, comforted him
with as good words as he could, saying, " Good Mr. King
ston, trouble not yourself, but be of good cheer. For I
will pray for you, and my good Lady your wife, that we
may meet in heaven together, where we shall be merry for
ever and ever." Soon after Sir William Kingston talking
with me of Sir Thomas More, said, " In faith Mr. Roper
I was ashamed of myself, that at my departure from your
father, I found my heart so feeble, and his so strong, that
he was fain to comfort me which should rather have
comforted him." When Sir Thomas More came from
Westminster to the Towerward again his daughter my
wife, desirous to see her father, whom she thought she
should never see in this world after, and also to have
his final blessing, gave attendance about the Tower wharf,
where she knew he should pass by, ere he could enter into
the Tower There tarrying for his coming home, as soon
as she saw him, after his blessings on her knees reverently
received, she, hasting towards, without consideration of care
of herself, pressing in amongst the midst of the throng and
the Company of the Guard, that with halbards and bills
were round about him, hastily ran to him, and there openly
in the sight of all them embraced and took him about the
neck and kissed him, who well liking her most daughterly
love and affection towards him, gave her his fatherly bless
ing, and many godly words of comfort besides, from whom
after she was departed, she not satisfied with the former
sight of her dear father, having respect neither to herself,
nor to the press of the people and multitude that were
about him, suddenly turned back again, and ran to him as
before, took him about the neck, and divers times together
most lovingly kissed him, and at last with a full heavy
heart was fain to depart from him ; the beholding whereof
was to many of them that were present thereat so lament
able, that it made them for very sorrow to mourn and weep.
So remained Sir Thomas More in the Tower more than
a sevennight after his judgment. From whence the day
before he suffered he sent his shirt of hair, not willing to
have it seen, to my wife, his dearly beloved daughter, and a

LIFE OF MORE 139

letter, written with a coal, contained in the foresaid book
of his works, plainly expressing the fervent desire he had
to suffer on the morrow in these words : " I cumber you,
good Margaret, much, but I would be sorry if it should be
any longer than to-morrow. For to-morrow is St. Thomas'
even, and the Octave of St. Peter, and therefore to-morrow
long I to go to God, that were a day very meet and conven
ient for me. And I never liked your manners better, than
when you kissed me last. For I like when daughterly love,
and dear charity hath no leisure to look to worldly courtesy."
And so upon the next morning, being Tuesday, St. Thomas'
even, and the Octave of St. Peter in the year of our Lord
God 1537, according as he in his letter the day before had
wished, early in the morning came to him Sir Thomas Pope,
his singular friend, on message from the King and his
Council, that he should before nine of the clock in the same
morning suffer death, and that therefore forthwith he should
prepare himself thereto. " Mr. Pope," saith he, " for your
good tidings I most heartily thank you. I have been always
bounden much to the King's Highness for the benefits and
honours which he hath still from time to time most bounti
fully heaped upon me, and yet more bounded I am to his
Grace for putting me into this place, where I have had
convenient time and space to have remembrance of my end,
and so help me God most of all, Mr. Pope, am I bound to
his Highness, that it pleased him so shortly to rid me of the
miseries of this wretched world. And therefore will I not
fail most earnestly to pray for his Grace both here, and also
in another world." " The King's pleasure is further," quoth
Mr. Pope, " that at your execution you shall not use many
words." "Mr. Pope" (quoth he), "you do well that you
give me warning of his Grace's pleasure. For otherwise had
I purposed at that time somewhat to have spoken, but of
no matter wherewith his Grace, or any other should have
had cause to be offended. Nevertheless whatsoever I intend
I am ready obediently to conform myself to his Grace's
commandment. And I beseech you, good Mr. Pope, to be
a mean unto his Highness, that my daughter Margaret may
be present at my burial." " The King is well contented
already " (quoth Mr. Pope) " that your wife, children, and

140 ROPER

other friends shall have free liberty to be present thereat."
" O how much beholden," then said Sir Thomas More, " am
I to his Grace, that unto my poor burial vouchsafeth to
have so gracious consideration." Wherewithal Mr. Pope
taking his leave of him could not refrain from weeping,
which Sir Thomas More perceiving, comforted him in this
wise, " Quiet yourself, good Mr. Pope, and be not discom
forted. For I trust that we shall once in heaven see each
other full merrily, where we shall be sure to live and love
together in joyful bliss eternally." Upon whose departure
Sir Thomas More, as one that had been invited to a solemn
feast, changed himself into his best apparel; which Mr.
Lieutenant espying, advised him to put it off, saying, That
he that should have it was but a worthless fellow. " What
Mr. Lieutenant" (quoth he), " shall I account him a worth
less fellow, that will do me this day so singular a benefit?
Nay, I assure you, were it cloth of gold I would account it
well bestowed on him, as St. Cyprian did, who gave his
executioner thirty pieces of gold." And albeit at length,
through Mr. Lieutenant's persuasions, he altered his apparel,
yet, after the example of that holy martyr St. Cyprian, did
he of that little money that was left him, send one angel of
gold to his executioner. And so was he brought by Mr.
Lieutenant out of the Tower, and from thence led towards
the place of execution, where going up the scaffold, which
was so weak that it was ready to fall, he said to Mr.
Lieutenant, " I pray you, I pray you, Mr. Lieutenant, see
me safe up, and for my coming down let me shift for my
self." Then desired he all the people thereabouts to pray
for him, and to bear witness with him, that he should then
suffer death in and for the faith of the holy Catholic Church,
which done he kneeled down, and after his prayers said,
he turned to the executioner, and with a cheerful counte
nance spake unto him. " Pluck up thy spirits, man, and be
not afraid to do thine office, my neck is very short. Take
heed therefore thou shoot not awry for saving thine honesty."
So passed Sir Thomas More out of this world to God upon
the very same day in which himself had most desired. Soon
after whose death came intelligence thereof to the Emperor
Charles, whereupon he sent for Sir Thomas Eliott, our Eng-

LIFE OF MORE 141

lish Ambassador, and said unto him, " My Lord Ambassador,
we understand that the King your master hath put his faithful
servant and grave wise councillor Sir Thomas More to
death." Whereunto Sir Thomas Eliott answered, that he
understood nothing thereof. " Well," said the Emperor,
" it is very true, and this will we say, that if we had been
master of such a servant, of whose doings ourselves have
had these many years no small experience, we would rather
have lost the best city of cur dominions, than have lost such
a worthy councillor." Which 'matter was by Sir Thomas
Eliott to myself, to my wife, to Mr. Clement and his wife,
to Mr. John Haywood and his wife, and divers others of his
friends accordingly reported.

145

UTOPIA

THE FIRST BOOK OF THE COMMUNICATION

OF RAPHAEL HYTHLODAY,
CONCERNING THE BEST STATE OF A COMMONWEALTH

THE most victorious and triumphant King of England,
Henry the Eighth of that name, in all royal virtues,
prince most peerless, had of late in controversy with
the right high and mighty King of Castile, weighty matters
and of great importance. For the debatement and final de
termination whereof, the King's Majesty sent me ambassa
dor into Flanders, joined in commission with Cuthbert Tun-
stall, a man doubtless out of comparison, and whom the
King's Majesty of late, to the great rejoicing of all men, did
prefer to the office of Master of the Rolls.

But of this man's praises I will say nothing, not because
I do fear that small credence shall be given to the testimony
that cometh out of a friend's mouth: but because his virtue
and learning be greater, and of more excellency, than that
I am able to praise them : and also in all places so famous
and so perfectly well known, that they need not, nor ought
not of me to be praised, unless I would seem to show and set
forth the brightness of the sun with a candle, as the proverb
saith. There met us at Bruges (for thus it was before
agreed) they whom their Prince had for that matter ap
pointed commissioners: excellent men all. The chief and the
head of them was the Margrave (as they call him) of Bruges,
a right honourable man : but the wisest and the best spoken
of them was George Temsice, provost of Cassel, a man, not
only by learning, but also by nature of singular eloquence,
and in the laws profoundly learned : but in reasoning and de
bating of matters, what by his natural wit, and what by daily
exercise, surely he had few fellows. After that we had once
or twice met, and upon certain points or articles could not
fully and thoroughly agree, they for a certain space took their

143

SIR THOMAS MORE

leave of us, and departed to Brussels, there to know their
Prince's pleasure. I in the meantime (for so my business
lay) went straight thence to Antwerp. Whiles I was there
abiding, oftentimes among other, but which to me was more
welcome than any other, did visit me one Peter Giles, a citi
zen of Antwerp, a man there in his country of honest repu
tation, and also preferred to high promotions, worthy truly of
the highest. For it is hard to say, whether the young man be
in learning, or in honesty more excellent. For he is both of
wonderful virtuous conditions, and also singularly well
learned, and towards all sorts of people exceeding gentle: but
towards his friends so kind-hearted, so loving, so faithful, so
trusty, and of so earnest affection, that it were very hard in
any place to find a man, that with him in all points of
friendship may be compared. No man can be more lowly or
courteous. No man useth less simulation or dissimulation, in
no man is more prudent simplicity. Besides this, he is in his
talk and communication so merry and pleasant, yea and that
without harm, that through his gentle entertainment, and his
sweet and delectable communication, in me was greatly abated
and diminished the fervent desire, that I had to see my native
country, my wife and my children, whom then I did much
long and covet to see, because that at that time I had been
more than four months from them. Upon a certain day when
I had heard the divine service in our Lady's church, which
is the fairest, the most gorgeous and curious church of build
ing in all the city and also most frequented of people, and,
the service being done, was ready to go home to my lodging,
I chanced to espy this foresaid Peter talking with a certain
stranger, a man well stricken in age, with a black sunburned
face, a long beard, and a cloak cast homely about his shoul
ders, whom by his favour and apparel forthwith I judged to
be a mariner. But when this Peter saw me, he cometh to me
and saluteth me.

And as I was about to answer him : see you this man, saith
he (and therewith he pointed to the man, that I saw him
talking with before) ; I was minded, quoth he, to bring him
straight home to you.

He should have been very welcome to me, said I, for your
sake.

UTOPIA 145

Nay (quoth he) for his own sake, if you knew him: for
there is no man this day living, that can tell you of so many
strange and unknown peoples, and countries, as this man can.
And I know well that you be very desirous to hear of such
news.

Then I conjectured not far amiss (quoth I) for even ;it the
first sight I judged him to be a mariner.

Nay (quoth he) there ye were greatly deceived: he hath
sailed indeed, not as the mariner Palinure, but as the expert
and prudent prince Ulysses : yea, rather as the ancient and
sage philosopher Plato. For this same Raphael Hythloday
(for this is his name) is very well learned in the Latin
tongue: but profound and excellent in the Greek tongue.
Wherein he ever bestowed more study than in the Latin, be
cause he had given himself wholly to the study of philosophy.
Whereof he knew that there is nothing extant in the Latin
tongue that is to any purpose, saving a few of Seneca's, and
Cicero's doings. His patrimony that he was born unto, he left
to his brethren (for he is a Portugal born) and for the desire
that he had to see, and know the far countries of the world, he
joined himself in company with Amerigo Vespucci, and in the
three last voyages of those four that be now in print and
abroad in evcrv man's hands, he continued still in his company,
saving that in the last voyage he came not home again with
him. For he made such means and shift, what by entreat-
ance, and what by importune suit, that he got licence of
master Amerigo (though it were sore against his will) to be
one of the twenty-four which in the end of the last voyage
were left in the country of Gulike. He was therefore left
behind for his mind sake, as one that took more thought and
care for travelling than dying : having customably in his
mouth these sayings : he that hath no grave, is covered with
the sky: and, the way to heaven out of all places is of like
length and distance. Which fantasy of his (if God had not
been his better friend) he had surely bought full dear. But
after the departing of master Vespucci, when he had travelled
through and about many countries with five of his com
panions Gulikians, at the last by marvellous chance he ar
rived in Taprobane, from whence he went to Caliquit, where
he chanced to find certain of his country ships, wherein he

146 SIR THOMAS MORE

returned again into his country, nothing less than looked
for.

All this when Peter had told me, I thanked him for his
gentle kindness, that he had vouchsafed to bring me to the
speech of that man, whose communication he thought should
be to me pleasant and acceptable. And therewith I turned
me to Raphael. And when we had saluted each other, and
had spoken these common words, that be customably spoken
at the first meeting and acquaintance of strangers, we went
thence to my house, and there in my garden upon a bench
covered with green turf we sat down talking together. There
he told us, how that after the departing of Vespucci, he and
his fellows, that tarried behind in Gulike, began by little and
little, through fair and gentle speech, to win the love and
favour of the people of that country, insomuch that within
short space, they did dwell amongst them, not only harmless,
but also occupied with them very familiarly. He told us
also, that they were in high reputation and favour with a cer
tain great man (whose name and country is now quite out
of my remembrance) which of his mere liberality did bear
the costs and charges of him and his five companions. And
besides that gave them a trusty guide to conduct them in
their journey (which by water was in boats, and by land in
waggons) and to bring them to other princes, with very
friendly commendations. Thus after many days' journeys,
he said, they found towns and cities and weal publics, full of
people, governed by good and wholesome laws. For under
the line equinoctial, and of both sides of the same, as far as
the sun doth extend his course, lieth (quoth he) great and
wide deserts and wildernesses, parched, burned, and dried up
with continual and intolerable heat. All things be hideous,
terrible, loathsome, and unpleasant to behold : all things out
of fashion and comeliness, inhabited with wild beasts and
serpents, or at the leastwise, with people, that be no less
savage, wild and noisome, than the very beasts themselves
be. But a little farther beyond that, all things begin by little
and little to wax pleasant; the air soft, temperate, and gentle;
the ground covered with green grass; less wildness in the
beasts. At the last shall ye come again to people, cities, and
towns wherein is continual intercourse and occupying of

UTOPIA 147

merchandise and chaffer, not only among themselves and with
their borderers, but also with merchants of far countries, both
by land and water. There I had occasion (said he) to go
to many countries of every side. For there was no ship
ready to any voyage or journey, but I and my fellows were
into it very gladly received. The ships that they found first
were made plain, flat and broad in the bottom, trough-wise.
The sails were made of great rushes, or of wickers, and in
some places of leather. Afterward they found ships with
ridged keels, and sails of canvas, yea, and shortly after, hav
ing all things like ours. The shipmen also very expert and
cunning, both in the sea and in the weather. But he said
that he found great favour and friendship among them, for
teaching them the feat and use of the load-stone, which
to them before that time was unknown. And therefore they
were wont to be very timorous and fearful upon the sea; nor
to venture upon it, but only in the summer time. But now
they have such a confidence in that stone, that they fear not
stormy winter: in so doing farther from care than jeopardy;
insomuch, that it is greatly to be doubted, lest that thing,
through their own foolish hardiness, shall turn them to evil
and harm, which at the first was supposed should be to them
good and commodious.

But what he told us that he saw in every country where he
came, it were very long to declare; neither is it my purpose
at this time to make rehearsal thereof. But peradventure in
another place I will speak of it, chiefly such things as shall be
profitable to be known, as in special be those decrees and
ordinances, that he marked to be well and wisely provided
and enacted among such peoples, as do live together in a
civil policy and good order. For of such things did we
busily inquire and demand of him, and he likewise very will
ingly told us of the same. But as for monsters, because they
be no news, of them we were nothing inquisitive. For noth
ing is more easy to be found, then be barking Scyllas, raven
ing Celenos, and Loastrygonians devourers of people, and
such like great, and incredible monsters. But to find citizens
ruled by good and wholesome laws, that is an exceeding rare,
and hard thing. But as he marked many fond, and foolish
laws in those new found lands, so he rehearsed many acts,

148 SIR THOMAS MORE

and constitutions, whereby these our cities, nations, countries,
and kingdoms may take example to amend their faults, enor
mities, and errors. Whereof in another place (as I said) I
will treat.

Now at this time I am determined to rehearse only that
he told us of the manners, customs, laws, and ordinance? of
the Utopians. But first I will repeat our former communica
tion by the occasion, and (as I might say) the drift whereof,
he was brought into the mention of that weal public.

For, when Raphael had very prudently touched divers
things that be amiss, some here and some there, yea, very
many of both parts; and again had spoken of such wise and
prudent laws and decrees, as be established and used, both
here among us and also there among them, as a man so
cunning, and expert in the laws, and customs of every several
country, as though into what place soever he came guestwise,
there he had led all his life : then Peter much marvelling at
the man: Surely Master Raphael (quoth he) I wonder
greatly, why you get you not into some king's court. For
I am sure there is no prince living, that would not be very
glad of you, as a man not only able highly to delight him
with your profound learning, and this your knowledge of
countries, and peoples, but also are meet to instruct him with
examples, and help him with counsel. And thus doing, you
shall bring yourself in a very good case, and also be in
ability to help all your friends and kinsfolk.

As concerning my friends and kinsfolk (quoth he) I pass
not greatly for them. For I think I have sufficiently done
my part towards them already. For these things, that other
men do not depart from, until they be old and sick, yea, which
they be then very loath to leave, when they can no longer
keep, those very same things did I being not only lusty and
in good health, but also in the flower of my youth, divide
among my friends and kinsfolks. Which I think with this
my liberality ought to hold them contented, and not to re
quire nor to look that besides this, I should for their sakes
give myself in bondage to kings.

Nay, God forbid (quoth Peter), it is not my mind that
you should be in bondage to kings, but as a retainer to
them at your pleasure. Which surely I think is the nighest

UTOPIA 149

way that you can devise how to bestow your time fruitfully,
not only for the private commodity of your friends and for
the general profit of all sorts of people, but also for the ad
vancement of yourself to a much wealthier state and condi
tion, than you be now in.

To a wealthier condition (quoth Raphael) by that means,
that my mind standeth clean against? Xow I live at liberty
after my own mind and pleasure, which I think very few of
these great states and peers of realms can say. Yea and
there be enough of them that seek for great men's friend
ships: and therefore think it no great hurt, if they have not
me, nor two or three such other as I am.

Well, I perceive plainly friend Raphael (quoth I) that you
be desirous neither of riches nor of power. And truly I have
in no less reverence and estimation a man that is of your
mind, than any of them all that be so high in power and au
thority. But you shall do as it becometh you : yea, and ac
cording to this wisdom, and this high and free courage of
yours, if you can find in your heart so to appoint and dispose
yourself, that you may apply your wit and diligence to the
profit of the weal public, though it be somewhat to your own
pain and hindrance. And this shall you never so well do, nor
with so great profit perform, as if you be of some great
prince's council, and put into his head (as I doubt not but
you will) honest opinions and virtuous persuasions. For
from the prince, as from a perpetual well spring, cometh
among the people the flood of all that is good or evil. Rut
in you is so perfect learning, that without any experience,
and again so great experience, that without any learning you
may well be any king's councillor.

You be twice deceived. Master More (quoth he), first in
me, and again in the thing itself. For neither is in me that
ability that you force upon me, and if it were never so much,
yet in disquieting mine own quietness I should nothing further
the weal public. For first of all, the most part of all princes
have more delight in warlike matters and feats of chivalry
(the knowledge whereof I neither have nor desire) than in
the good feats of peace: and employ much more study, how
by right or by wrong to enlarge their dominions, than how
well and peaceably to rule and govern that they have already.

ISO SIR THOMAS MORE

Moreover, they that be councillors to kings, every one of
them either is of himself so wise indeed, that he need not,
or else he thinketh himself so wise, that he will not allow
another man's counsel, saving that they do shamefully and
flatteringly give assent to the fond and foolish sayings of
certain great men. Whose favours, because they be in high
authority with their prince, by assentation and flattery they
labour to obtain. And verily it is naturally given to all men
to esteem their own inventions best. So both the raven and
the ape think their own young ones fairest. Then if a man
in such a company, where some disdain and have despite at
other men's inventions, and some count their own best, if
among such men (I say) a man should bring forth anything,
that he hath read done in times past, or that he hath seen
done in other places: there the hearers fare as though the
whole existimation of their wisdom were in jeopardy to be
overthrown, and that ever after they should be counted for
very fools, unless they could in other men's inventions pick
out matter to reprehend, and find fault at. If all other poor
helps fail, then this is their extreme refuge. These things
(say they) pleased our forefathers and ancestors; would God
we could be so wise as they were: and as though they had
wittily concluded the matter, and with this answer stopped
every man's mouth, they sit down again. As who should
say, it were a very dangerous matter, if a man in any point
should be found wiser than his forefathers were.

And yet be we content to suffer the best and wittiest of
their decrees to lie unexecuted: but if in anything a better
order might have been taken, than by them was, there we take
fast hold, and find many faults. Many times have I chanced
upon such proud, lewd, overthwart and wayward judgments,
yea, and once in England.

I pray you sir (quoth I) have you been in our country?

Yea forsooth (quoth he) and there I tarried for the space
of four or five months together, not long after the insur
rection, that the western Englishmen made against their
king, which by their own miserable and pitiful slaughter
was suppressed and ended. In the mean season I was much
bound and beholden to the right reverend father, John
Morton, Archbishop and Cardinal of Canterbury, and at that

UTOPIA 151

time also Lord Chancellor of England: a man, Master Peter
(for Master More knoweth already that I will say), not more
honourable for his authority, than for his prudence and
virtue. He was of a mean stature, and though stricken
in age, yet bare he his body upright. In his face did shine
such an amiable reverence, as was pleasant to behold, gentle
in communication, yet earnest, and sage. He had great
delight many times with rough speech to his suitors, to prove,
but without harm, what prompt wit and what bold spirit
were in every man. In the which, as in a virtue much agree
ing with his nature, so that therewith were not joined
impudence, he took great delectation. And the same person,
as apt and meet to have an administration in the weal
public, he did lovingly embrace. In his speech he was fine,
eloquent, and pithy. In the law he had profound knowledge,
in wit he was incomparable, and in memory wonderful excel
lent. These qualities, which in him were by nature singular,
he by learning and use had made perfect. The king put
much trust in his counsel, the weal public also in a manner
leaned unto him, when I was there. For even in the chief
of his youth he was taken from school into the court, and
there passed all his time in much trouble and business, and was
continually tumbled and tossed in the waves of divers mis
fortunes and adversities. And so by many and great dangers
he learned the experience of the world, which so being
learned can not easily be forgotten. It chanced on a certain
day, when I sat at his table, there was also a certain layman
cunning in the laws of your realm. Which, I cannot tell
whereof taking occasion, began diligently and busily to
praise that strait and rigorous justice, which at that time
was there executed upon felons, who, as he said, were for
the most part twenty hanged together upon one gallows.
And, seeing so few escaped punishment, he said he could
not choose, but greatly wonder and marvel, how and by what
evil luck it should so come to pass, that thieves nevertheless
were in every place so rife and rank. Nay, sir, quoth
I (for I durst boldly speak my mind before the Cardinal),
marvel nothing hereat: for this punishment of thieves
passeth the limits [of] justice, and is also very hurtful to the
weal public. For it is too extreme and cruel a punishment

152 SIR THOMAS MORE

for theft, and yet not sufficient to refrain men from
theft. For simple theft is not so great an offence,
that it ought to be punished with death. Neither there is
any punishment so horrible, that it can keep them from
stealing, which have no other craft, whereby to get their liv
ing. Therefore in this point, not you only, but also the most
part of the world, be like evil schoolmasters, which be readier
to beat, than to teach their scholars. For great and horrible
punishments be appointed for thieves, whereas much rather
provision should have been made, that there were some
means, whereby they might get their living, so that no man
should be driven to this extreme necessity, first to steal,
and then to die. Yes (quoth he) this matter is well enough
provided for already. There be handicrafts, there is hus
bandry to get their living by, if they would not willingly
be nought. Nay, quoth I, you shall not 'scape so: for first
of all, I will speak nothing of them, that come home out
of war, maimed and lame, as not long ago, out of
Blackheath field, and a little before that, out of the wars
in France: such, I say, as put their lives in jeopardy for the
weal public's or the king's sake, and by the reason of weakness
and lameness be not able to occupy their old crafts, and be
too aged to learn new: of them I will speak nothing,
because war like the tide ebbeth and floweth. But let us
consider those things that chance daily before our eyes.
First there is a great number of gentlemen, which cannot
be content to live idle themselves, like drones, of that which
other have laboured for: their tenants I mean, whom they
poll and shave to the quick by raising their rents (for this
only point of frugality do they use, men else through their
lavish and prodigal spending, able to bring themselves to
very beggary) these gentlemen, (I say), do not only live in
idleness themselves, but also carry about with them at their
tails a great flock or train of idle and loitering serving-men,
which never learned any craft whereby to get their livings.
These men as soon as their master is dead, or be sick
themselves, be incontinent thrust out of doors. For gentle
men had rather keep idle persons, than sick men, and many
times the dead man's heir is not able to maintain so great
a house, and keep so many serving-men as his father did.

UTOPIA 153

Then in the mean season they that be thus destitute of
service, either starve for hunger, or manfully play the
thieves. For what would you have them to do ? When
they have wandered abroad so long, until they have worn
threadbare their apparel, and also impaired their health,
then gentlemen because of their pale and sick faces, and
patched coats, will not take them into service. And hus
bandmen dare not set them a work, knowing well enough
that he is nothing meet to do true and faithful service to
a poor man with a spade and a mattock for small wages and
hard fare, which being daintily and tenderly pampered up in
idleness and pleasure, was wont with a sword and a buckler
by his side to strut through the street with a bragging look,
and to think himself too good to be any man's mate. Nay,
by Saint Mary, sir (quoth the lawyer) not so. For this
kind of men must we make most of. For in them as men
of stouter stomachs, bolder spirits, and manlier courages
than handicraftsmen and ploughmen be, cloth consist the
whole power, strength, and puissance of our host, when
we must fight in battle. Forsooth, sir, as well you might
say (quoth I) that for war's sake you must cherish thieves.
For surely you shall never lack thieves, whiles you have
them. No, nor thieves be not the most false and faint
hearted soldiers, nor soldiers be not the cowardliest thieves:
so well these two crafts agree together. But this fault,
though it be much used among you, yet is it not peculiar
to you only, but common also almost to all nations. Yet
France besides this is troubled and infected with a much
sorer plague. The whole realm is filled and besieged with
hired soldiers in peace time (if that be peace) which be
brought in under the same colour and pretence that hath
persuaded you to keep these idle serving-men. For these
wise fools and very archdolts thought the wealth of the
whole country herein to consist, if there were ever in a
readiness a strong and a sure garrison, specially of old prac
ticed soldiers, for they put no trust at all in men unexercised.
And therefore they must be fain to seek for war, to the
end they may ever have practiced soldiers and cunning
manslayers, lest that (as it is prettily said of Sallust) their
hands and their minds through idleness or lack of exercise,

154 SIR THOMAS MORE

should wax dull. But how pernicious and pestilent a thing
it is to maintain such beasts, the Frenchmen, by their own
harms have learned, and the examples of the Romans,
Carthaginians, Syrians, and of many other countries do
manifestly declare. For not only the empire but also the
fields and cities of all these, by divers occasions have been
overrun and destroyed of their own armies beforehand had
in a readiness. Now how unnecessary a thing this is,
hereby it may appear: that the French soldiers, which from
their youth have been practiced and inured in feats of arms,
do not crack nor advance themselves to have very often got
the upper hand and mastery of your new-made and unpracticed
soldiers. But in this point I will not use many words, lest
perchance I may seem to flatter you. No, nor those same
handicraftsmen of yours in cities, nor yet the rude and up-
landish ploughmen of the country, are not supposed to be
greatly afraid of your gentlemen's idle serving-men, unless
it be such as be not of body or stature correspondent to their
strength and courage, or else whose bold stomachs be discour
aged through poverty. Thus you may see, that it is not to be
feared lest they should be effeminated, if they were brought
up in good crafts and laboursome works, whereby to get their
living, those stout and sturdy bodies (for gentlemen vouch
safe to corrupt and spoil none but picked and chosen men)
now either by reason of rest and idleness be brought to weak
ness : or else by too easy and womanly exercises be made feeble
and unable to endure hardness. Truly, howsoever the case
standeth, this methinketh is nothing available to the weal
public, for war's sake, which you never have, but when you
will yourselves, to keep and maintain an innumerable flock
of that sort of men, that be so troublesome and annoyous
in peace, whereof you ought to have a thousand times more
regard than of war. But yet this is not only the necessary
cause of stealing. There is another, which, as I suppose,
is proper and peculiar to you Englishmen alone. What is
that, quoth the Cardinal? forsooth (quoth I) your sheep
that were wont to be so meek and tame, and so small eaters,
now, as I hear say, be become so great devourers and so wild,
that they eat up. and swallow down the very men themselves.
They consume, destroy, and devour whole fields, houses, and

UTOPIA 155

cities. For look in what parts of the realm doth grow the
finest and therefore dearest wool, there noblemen and gen
tlemen, yea and certain abbots, holy men God wot not con
tenting themselves with the yearly revenues and profits, that
were wont to grow to their forefathers and predecessors
of their lands, nor being content that they live in rest and
pleasure nothing profiting, yea much annoying the weal pub
lic, leave no ground for tillage, they inclose all in pastures;
they throw down houses ; they pluck down towns, and leave
nothing standing, but only the church to make of it a sheep-
house. And as though you lost no small quantity of ground
by forests, chases, lawns, and parks, those good holy men
turn all dwelling-places and all glebeland into desolation and
wilderness. Therefore that one covetous and insatiable cor
morant and very plague of his native country may compass
about and inclose many thousand acres of ground together
within one pale or hedge, the husbandmen be thrust out of
their own, or else either by cunning and fraud, or by violent
oppression they be put besides it, or by wrongs and injuries
they be so wearied, that they be compelled to sell all : by
one means therefore or by other, either by hook or crook
they must needs depart away, poor, silly, wretched souls,
men, women, husbands, wives, fatherless children, widows,
woeful mothers, with their young babes, and their whole
households small in substance and much in number, as hus
bandry requireth many hands. Away they trudge, I say,
out of their known and accustomed houses, finding no places
to rest in. All their household stuff, which is very little
worth, though it might well abide the sale: yet being sud
denly thrust out, they be constrained to sell it for a thing
of nought. And when they, have wandering about, soon
spent that, what can they else do but steal, and then justly,
God wot, be hanged, or else go about a begging. And yet then
also they be cast in prison as vagabonds, because they go
about and work not : whom no man will set a work, though
they never so willingly offer themselves thereto. For one
shepherd or herdsman is enough to eat up that ground with
cattle, to the occupying whereof about husbandry many hands
were requisite. And this is also the cause that victuals be
now in many places dearer. Yea, besides this the price of

156 SIR THOMAS MORE

wool is so risen, that poor folks, which were wont to work
it and make cloth of it, be now able to buy none at all.
And by this means very many be fain to forsake work,
and to give themselves to idleness. For after that so much
ground was inclosed for pasture, an infinite multitude of
sheep died of the rot, such vengeance God took of their
inordinate and insatiable covetousness, sending among the
sheep that pestiferous murrain, which much more justly
should have fallen on the sheepmasters' own heads. And
though the number of sheep increase never so fast, yet the
price falleth not one mite, because there be so few sellers.
For they be almost all come into a few rich men's hands,
whom no need driveth to sell before they lust, and they lust
not before they may sell as dear as they lust. Now the same
cause bringeth in like dearth of the other kinds of cattle, yea
and that so much the more, because that after farms plucked
down and husbandry decayed, there is no man that passeth for
the breeding of young store. For these rich men bring not up
the young ones of great cattle as they do lambs. But first they
buy them abroad very cheap and afterward, when they be
fatted in their pastures, they sell them again exceeding dear.
And therefore (as I suppose) the whole incommodity hereof
is not yet felt. For yet they make dearth only in those
places where they sell. But when they shall fetch them
away from thence where they be bred faster than they can be
brought up : then shall there also be felt great dearth, when
store beginneth to fail, there where the ware is brought. Thus
the unreasonable covetousness of a few hath turned that
thing to the utter undoing of your island, in the which thing
the chief felicity of your realm did consist. For this great
dearth of victuals causeth every man to keep as little houses
and as small hospitality as he possible may, and to put away
their servants: whether, I pray you, but a begging: or else
(which these gentle bloods and stout stomachs will sooner
set their minds unto) a stealing? Now to amend the mat
ters, to this wretched beggary and miserable poverty is
joined great wantonness, importunate superfluity, and ex
cessive riot. For not only gentlemen's servants, but also
handicraftsmen : yea and almost the ploughmen of the
country, with all other sorts of people, use much strange

UTOPIA 157

and proud newfangleness in their apparel, and too much
prodigal riot and sumptuous fare at their table. Now bawds,
queans, whores, harlots, strumpets, brothel-houses, stews,
and yet another stews, winetaverns, ale houses and tippling
houses, with so many naughty, lewd, and unlawful games,
as dice, cards, tables, tennis, bowls, quoits, do not all these
send the haunters of them straight a stealing when their
money is gone? Cast out these pernicious abominations,
make a law, that they, which plucked down farms and
towns of husbandry, shall build them up again, or else yield
and uprender the possession of them to such as will go to the
cost of building them anew. Suffer not these rich men to
buy up all, to engross and forestall, and with their mon
opoly to keep the market alone as please them. Let not so
many be brought up in idleness, let husbandry and tillage be
restored again, let clothworking be renewed, that there may be
honest labours for this idle sort to pass their time in profit
ably, which hitherto either poverty hath caused to be thieves,
or else now be either vagabonds, or idle serving men, and
shortly will be thieves. Doubtless unless you find a remedy
for these enormities, you shall in vain advance yourselves
of executing justice upon felons. For this justice is more
beautiful than just or profitable. For by suffering your youth
wantonly and viciously to be brought up, and to be infected,
even from their tender age, by little and little with vice:
then a God's name to be punished, when they commit the
same faults after they be come to man's state, which from
their youth they were ever like to do: In this point, I pray
you, what other thing do you, than make thieves and then
punish them? Now as I was thus speaking, the lawyer
began to make himself ready to answer, and was determined
with himself to use the common fashion and trade of dis-
puters, which be more diligent in rehearsing than answering,
as thinking the memory worthy of the chief praise. Indeed,
sir, quoth he, you have said well, being but a stranger and one
that might rather hear something of these matters, than
have any exact or perfect knowledge of the same, as I will
incontinent by open proof make manifest and plain. For
first I will rehearse in order all that you have said: then
I will declare in what thing you be deceived, through

158 SIR THOM MORE

lack of knowledge, in all our fashions, manners and
customs : and last of all I will answer to your argu
ments and confute them every one. First therefore
I will begin where I promised. Four things you seemed
to me. Hold your peace, quoth the Cardinal: for be
like you will make no short answer, which make such a
beginning. Wherefore at this time you shall not take
the pains to make your answer, but keep it to your
next meeting, which I would be right glad, that it might be
even to-morrow next, unless either you or Master Raphael
have any earnest let. But now, Master Raphael, I would
very gladly hear of you, why you think theft not worthy to
be punished with death, or what other punishment you can
devise more expedient to the weal public. For I am sure
you are not of that mind, that you would have theft escape
unpunished. For if now the extreme punishment of death
cannot cause them to leave stealing, then if ruffians and
robbers should be sure of their lives ; what violence, what
fear were able to hold their hands from robbing, which
would take the mitigation of the punishment, as a very
provocation to the mischief? Surely my lord, quoth I, I
think it not right nor justice, that the loss of money should
cause the loss of man's life. For mine opinion is, that all
the goods in the world are not able to countervail man's life.
But if they would thus say: that the breaking of justice, and
the transgression of the laws is recompensed with this punish
ment, and not the loss of the money, then why may not
this extreme justice well be called extreme injury? For
neither so cruel governance, so strait rules, and unmerci
ful laws be allowable, that if a small offence be com
mitted, by-and-by the sword should be drawn : nor so stoical
ordinances are to be borne withal, as to count all offences of
such equality that the killing of a man, or the taking of his
money from him were both a matter, and the one no more
heinous offence than the other: between the which two, if
we have any respect to equity, no similitude or equality con-
sisteth. God commandeth us that we shall not kill. And
be we then so hasty to kill a man for taking a little money?
And if any man would understand killing by this command
ment of God to be forbidden after no larger wise, than man's

UTOPIA 159

constitutions define killing to be lawful, then why may it
not likewise by man's constitutions be determined after what
sort whoredom, fornication and perjury may be lawful?
For whereas, by the permission of God, no man hath power
to kill neither himself, nor yet any other man: then if a
law made by the consent of men, concerning slaughter of
men, ought to he of such strength, force and virtue, that
they which, contrary to the commandment of God, have
killed those, whom this constitution of man commanded to
be killed, be clean quit and exempt out of the bonds and
danger of God's commandment: shall it not then by this
reason follow, that the power of God's commandment shall
extend no further than man's law doth define, and permit?
And so shall it come to pass, that in like manner man's
constitutions in all things shall determine how far the ob
servation of all God's commandments shall extend. To be
short, Moses' law, though it were ungentle and sharp, as a
law that was given to bondmen ; yea, and them very ob
stinate, stubborn, and stiff-necked ; yet it punished theft by
the purse, and not with death. And let us not think that
God in the new law of clemency and mercy, under the which
he ruleth us with fatherly gentleness, as his dear children,
hath given us greater scope and license to execute
cruelty, one upon another. Now, ye have heard the rea
sons whereby I am persuaded that this punishment is un
lawful. Furthermore I think there is nobody that knoweth
not how unreasonable, yea, how pernicious a thing it is
to the weal public, that a thief and an homicide or murderer,
should suffer equal and like punishment. For the thief
seeing that man, that is condemned for theft in no less
jeopardy, nor judged to no less punishment, than him that
is convict of manslaughter; through this cogitation only
he is strongly and forcibly provoked, and in a manner
constrained to kill him whom else he would have but
robbed. For the murder once done, he is in less care,
and in more hope that the deed shall not be bewrayed
or known, seeing the party is now dead and rid out of
the way, which only might have uttered and disclosed it.
But if he chance to be taken and discrived, yet he is in
no more danger and jeopardy, than if he had committed but

160 SIR THOMAS MORE

single felony. Therefore whiles we go about with such
cruelty to make thieves afraid, we provoke them to kill good
men. Now as touching this question, what punishment
were more commodious and better; that truly in my judg
ment is easier to be found than what punishment were
worse. For why should we doubt that to be a good and a
profitable way for the punishment of offenders, which we
know did in times past so long please the Romans, men in
the administration of a weal public most expert, politic, and
cunning? Such as among them were convict of great and
heinous trespasses, them they condemned into stone quar
ries, and into mines to dig metal, there to be kept in chains
all the days of their life. But as concerning this matter, I
allow the ordinance of no nation so well as that I
saw, whiles I travelled abroad about the world, used in
Persia among the people that commonly be called the Poly-
lerites. Whose land is both large and ample, and also well
and wittily governed : and the people in all conditions free
and ruled by their own laws, saving that they pay a yearly
tribute to the great king of Persia. But because they be
far from the sea, compassed and closed in almost round
about with high mountains, and do content themselves with
the fruits of their owrn land, which is of itself very fertUe
and fruitful: for this cause neither they go to other coun
tries, nor other come to them. And according to the old
custom of the land, they desire not to enlarge the bounds of
their dominions: and those that they have, by reason of the
high hills be easily defended: and the tribute which they pay
to their chief lord and king setteth them quiet and free from
warfare. Thus their life is commodious rather than gal
lant, and may better be called happy or lucky, than notable
or famous. For they be not known as much as by name, I
suppose, saving only to their next neighbours and borderers.
They that in this land be attainted and convict of felony,
make restitution of that they stole, to the right owner,
and not (as they do in other lands) to the king: whom they
think to have no more right to the thief-stolen thing, than
the thief himself hath. But if the thin-g be lost or made
away, then the value of it is paid of the goods of such of
fenders, which else remaineth all whole to their wives and

UTOPIA 161

children. And they themselves be condemned to be common
labourers, and, unless the theft be very heinous, they be
neither locked in prison nor fettered in gyves, but be untied
and go at large, labouring in the common works. They
that refuse labour, or go slowly and slackly to their work, be
not only tied in chains, but also pricked forward with stripes.
They that be diligent about their work live without check
or rebuke. Every night they be called in by name, and be
locked in their chambers. Beside their daily labour, their
life is nothing hard or incommodious. Their fare is in-
diffefent good, borne at the charges of the weal public,
because they be common servants to the commonwealth.
But their charges in all places of the land is not borne
alike. For in some parts that is bestowed upon them is
gathered of alms. And though that way be uncertain, yet
the people be so full of mercy and pity, that none is found
more profitable or plentiful. In some places certain lands
be appointed hereunto, of the revenues whereof they be
maintained. And in some places every man. giveth a cer
tain tribute for the same use and purpose. Again in some
parts of the land these serving-men (for so be these con
demned persons called) do no common work, but as every pri
vate man ncedeth labourers, so he cometh into the market
place, and there hireth some of them for meat and drink, and
a certain limited wages by the clay, somewhat cheaper than
he should hire a free man. It is also lawful for them to
chastise the sloth of these serving-men with stripes. By
this means they never lack work, and besides their
meat and drink, every one of them bringeth daily some
thing into the common treasury. All and every one of
them be apparelled in one colour. Their heads be not polled
or shaven, but rounded a little above the cars. And the
tip of the one ear is cut off. Every one of them may take
meat and drink of their friends, and also a coat of their
own colour: but to receive money is death, as we!) to the
giver, as to the receiver. And no less jeopardy it is for a
free man to receive money of a serving-man for any man
ner of cause: and likewise for serving-men to touch weap
ons. The serving-men of every several shire be distinct
and known from other by their several and distinct badges:
HC xxxvi (F)

162 SIR THOMAS MORE

which to cast away is death: as it is also to be seen out of
the precincts of their own shire, or to talk with a serving-
man of another shire. And it is no less danger to them,
for to intend to run away than to do it indeed. Yea and
to conceal such an enterprise in a serving-man it is death,
in a free man servitude. Of the contrary part, to him that
openeth and uttereth such counsels, be decreed large gifts ;
to a free man a great sum of money, to a serving-man
freedom: and to them both forgiveness and pardon of that
they were of counsel in that pretence. So that it can never
be so good for them to go forward in their evil purpose, as
by repentance to turn back. This is the law and order in
this behalf, as I have showed you. Wherein what humanity
is used, how far it is from cruelty, and how commodious it
is, you do plainly perceive: forasmuch as the end of their
wrath and punishment intendeth nothing else, but the de
struction of vices, and saving of men: with so using and
ordering them, that they cannot choose but be good, and
what harm soever they did before, in the residue of their
life to make amends for the same. Moreover it is so little
feared, that they should turn again to their vicious condi
tions, that wayfaring men will for their safeguard choose
them to their guides before any other, in every shire chang
ing and taking new. For if they would commit robbery,
they have nothing about them meet for that purpose. They
may touch no weapons : money found about them should
betray the robbery. They should be no sooner taken with
the manner, but forthwith they should be punished. Neither
they can have any hope at all to 'scape away by flying. For
how should a man, that in no part of his apparel is like
other men, fly privily and unknown, unless he would run
away naked ? Howbeit so also flying he should be discrived
by his rounding and his ear-mark. But it is a thing
to be doubted, that they will lay their heads together,
and conspire against the weal public. No, no, I warrant
you. For the serving-men of one shire alone could never
hope to bring to pass such an enterprise, without soliciting,
enticing, and alluring the serving-men of many other shires
to take their parts. Which thing is to them so impossible,
that they may not as much as speak or talk together, or

UTOPIA 163

salute one another. No, it is not to be thought that they
would make their own countrymen and companions of their
counsel in such a matter which they know well should be
jeopardy to the concealer thereof, and great commodity
and goodness to the opener of the same. Whereas
on the other part, there is none of them all hopeless
or in despair to recover again his freedom, by humble
obedience, by patient suffering and by giving good tokens
and likelihood of himself, that he will, ever after that,
live like a true and an honest man. For every year divers
be restored again to their freedom: through the com
mendation of their patience. When I had thus spoken,
saying moreover that I could see no cause why this
order might not be had in England with much more
profit, than the justice which the lawyer so highly praised:
Nay, quoth the lawyer, this could never be so established in
England, but that it must needs bring the weal public into
great jeopardy and hazard. And as he was thus saying,
he shaked his head, and made a wry mouth, and so held
his peace. And all that were there present, with one assent
agreed to his saying. Well, quoth the Cardinal, yet it were
hard to judge without a proof, whether this order would do
well here or no. But w1~en the sentence of death is given,
if then the king should command execution to be deferred
and spared, and would prove this order and fashion : taking
away the privileges of all sanctuaries : if then the proof
would declare the thing to be good and profitable, then it
were well done that it were established ; else the condemned
and reprieved persons may as well and as justly be put to
death after this proof, as when they were first cast. Neither
any jeopardy can in the mean space grow hereof. Yea, and
methinketh that these vagabonds may very well be ordered
after the same fashion, against whom we have hitherto made
so many laws, and so little prevailed. When the Cardinal
had thus said, then every man gave great praise to my
sayings, which a little before they had disallowed. But most
of all was esteemed that which was spoken of vagabonds,
because it was the Cardinal's own addition. I cannot tell
whether it were best to rehearse the communication that
followed, for it was not very sad. But yet you shall hear

164 SIR THOMAS MORE

it, for there was no evil in it, and partly it pertained to the
matter beforesaid. There chanced to stand by a certain
jesting parasite, or scoffer, which would seem to resemble
and counterfeit the fool. But he did in such wise counter
feit, that he was almost the very same indeed that he la
boured to represent : he so studied with words and sayings
brought forth so out of time and place to make sport and
move laughter, that he himself was oftener laughed at than
his jests were. Yet the foolish fellow brought out now and
then such indifferent and reasonable stuff, that he made the
proverb true, which saith: he that shooteth oft at the last
shall hit the mark. So that when one of the company said,
that through my communication a good order was found
for thieves, and that the .Cardinal also had well provided
for vagabonds, so that only remained some good provision
to be made for them that through sickness and age were
fallen into poverty, and were become so impotent and un
wieldy, that they were not able to work for their living:
Tush (quoth he) let me alone with them: you shall see me
do well enough with them. For I had rather than any good,
that this kind of people were driven some whether out of my
sight, they have so sore troubled me many times and oft,
when they have with their lamentable tears begged money
of me : and yet they could never to my mind so tune their
song, that thereby they ever got of me one farthing. For
evermore the one of these two chanced : either that I would
not, or else that I could not, because I had it not. There
fore now they be waxed wise. When they see me go by,
because they will not lose their labour, they let me go
and say not one word to me. So they look for nothing of
me, no in good sooth no more, than if I were a priest.
But I will make a law, that all these beggars shall
be distributed, and bestowed into houses of religion. The
men shall be made lay brethren, as they call them, and the
women nuns. Hereat the Cardinal smiled, and allowed it
in jest, yea and all the residue in good earnest. But a cer
tain friar, graduate in divinity, took such pleasure and de
light in this jest of priests and monks, that he also being
else a man of grisly and stern gravity, began merrily and
wantonly to jest and taunt. Nay, quoth he, you shall not

UTOPIA 165

so be rid and despatched of beggars, unless you make some
provision also for us friars. Why, quoth the jester, that
is done already, for my lord himself set a very good order
for you, when he decreed that vagabonds should be kept
strait and set to work: for you be the greatest and veriest
vagabonds that be. This jest also, when they saw the Car
dinal not disprove it, every man took it gladly, saving only the
friar. For he (and that no marvel) when he was thus touched
on the quick, and hit on the gall, so fret, so fumed, and chafed
at it, and was in such a rage, that he could not refrain him
self from chiding, scolding, railing and reviling. He called
the fellow ribald, villain, javel, back-biter, slanderer, and
the son of perdition: citing therewith terrible threatening
out of holy scripture. Then the jesting scoffer began to
play the scoffer indeed, and verily he was good at it, for he
could play a part in that play no man better. Patient your
self, good master friar, quoth he, and be not angry, for
scripture saith : in your patience you shall save your souls.
Then the friar (for I will rehearse his own very words),
No, gallows wretch, I am not angry (quoth he) or at the
leastwise, I do not sin: for the Psalmist saith, be you angry,
and sin not. Then the Cardinal spake gently to the friar,
and desired him to quiet himself. No my lord, quoth he,
I speak not but of a good zeal as I ought: for holy men
had a good zeal. Wherefore it is said: the zeal of thy
house hath eaten me. And it is sung in the church, the
scorners of Helizcus, whiles he went up into the house of
God, felt the zeal of the bald, as peradventure this scorning
villain ribald shall feel. You do it (quoth the Cardinal)
perchance of a good mind and affection: but methinketh
you should do, I cannot tell whether more holily, certes more
wisely, if you would not set your wit to a fool's wit, and
with a fool take in hand a foolish contention. No for
sooth, my lord (quoth he) I should not do more wisely.
For Solomon the wise saith : Answer a fool according to his
foolishness, like as I do now, and do show him the pit that he
shall fall into, if he take not heed. For if many scorners of
Helizeus, which was but one bald man, felt the zeal of the
bald, how much more shall one scorner of many friars feel,
among whom be many bald men? And we have also the

166 SIR THOMAS MORE

pope*s bulls, whereby all that mock and scorn us be ex
communicate, suspended and accursed. The Cardinal, see
ing that none end would be made, sent away the jester by
a privy beck, and turned the communication to another mat
ter. Shortly after, when he was risen from the table, he
went to hear his suitors, and so dismissed us. Look, Master
More, with how long and tedious a tale I have kept you,
which surely I would have been ashamed to have done, but
that you so earnestly desired me, and did after such a sort
give ear unto it, as though you would not that any parcel
of that communication should be left out. Which though
I have done somewhat briefly, yet could I not choose but
rehearse it, for the judgment of them, which when they had
improved and disallowed my sayings, yet incontinent, hearing
the Cardinal allow them, did themselves also approve the
same : so impudently flattering him, that they were nothing
ashamed to admit, yea almost in good earnest, his jester's
foolish inventions : because that he himself by smiling at
them did seem not to disprove them. So that hereby you
may right well perceive how little the courtiers would re
gard and esteem me and my sayings.

I ensure you, Master Raphael, quoth I, I took great de
lectation in hearing you : all things that you said were
spoken so wittily and so pleasantly. And me thought my
self to be in the meantime, not only at home in my country,
but also through the pleasant remembrance of the Cardinal,
in whose house I was brought up of a child, to wax a child
again. And, friend Raphael, though I did bear very great
love towards you before, yet seeing you do so earnestly
favour this man, you will not believe how much my love
towards you is now increased. But yet, all this notwith
standing, I can by no means change my mind, but that I
must needs believe, that you, if you be disposed, and can
find in your heart to follow some prince's court, shall with
your good counsels greatly help and further the common
wealth. Wherefore there is nothing more appertaining to
your duty, that is to say, to the duty of a good man. For
whereas your Plato judgeth that weal publics shall by this
means attain perfect felicity, either if philosophers be kings,
or else if kings give themselves to the study of philosophy,

UTOPIA 167

how far I pray you, shall commonwealths then be from this
felicity, if philosophers will [not] vouchsafe to instruct kings
with their good counsel?

They be not so unkind (quoth he) but they would gladly
do it, yea, many have done it already in books that they have
put forth, if kings and princes would be willing and ready
to follow good counsel. But Plato doubtless did well fore
see, unless kings themselves would apply their minds to the
study of Philosophy, that else they would never thoroughly
allow the counsel of philosophers, being themselves before
even from their tender age infected, and corrupt with per
verse and evil opinions. Which thing Plato himself proved
true in King Dionysius. If I should propose to any king
wholesome decrees, doing my endeavour to pluck out of his
mind the pernicious original causes of vice and naughtiness,
think you not that I should forthwith either be driven away, or
else made a laughing stock? Go to, suppose that I were with
the French king, and there sitting in his council, whiles that
in that most secret consultation, the king himself there be
ing present in his own person, they beat their brains and
search the very bottoms of their wits to discuss by what
craft and means the king may still keep Milan, and draw to
him again fugitive Naples, and then how to conquer the
Venetians, and how to bring under his jurisdiction all Italy,
then how to win the dominion of Flanders, Brabant, and of
all Burgundy: with divers other lands, whose kingdoms he
hath long ago in mind and purpose invaded. Here whiles
one counselleth to conclude a league of peace with the Vene
tians, which shall so long endure, as shall be thought meet and
expedient for their purpose, and to make them also of their
counsel, yea, and besides that to give them part of the prey,
which afterward, when they have brought their purpose
about after their own minds, they may require and claim
again. Another thinketh best to hire the Germans. An
other would have the favour of the Swiss won with money.
Another's advice is to appease the puissant power of the
Emperor's majesty with gold, as with a most pleasant and
acceptable sacrifice. Whiles another giveth counsel to make
peace with the King of Arragon, and to restore unto him
his own kingdom of Navarre, as a full assurance of peace.

168 SIR THOMAS MORE

Another cometh in with his five eggs, and adviseth to hook
in the King of Castile with some hope of affinity or alliance,
and to bring to their part certain peers of his court for great
pensions. Whiles they all stay at the chiefest doubt of all,
what to do in the meantime with England, and yet agree all
in this to make peace with the Englishmen, and with most
sure and strong bonds to bind that weak and feeble friend
ship, so that they must be called friends, and had in sus
picion as enemies. And that therefore the Scots must be
had in a readiness, as it were in a standing, ready at all
occasions, if peradventure the Englishmen should stir never
so little, incontinent to set upon them. And moreover
privily and secretly (for openly it may not be done by the
truce that is taken) privily therefore I say to make much
of some peer of England that is banished his country, which
must claim title to the crown of the realm, and affirm himself
just inheritor thereof, that by this subtle means they may
hold to them the king, in whom else they have but small
trust and affiance. Here I say, where so great and high
matters be in consultation, where so many noble and wise
men counsel their king only to war, here if I silly man
should rise up and will them to turn over the leaf, and learn
a new lesson, saying that my counsel is not to meddle with
Italy, but to tarry still at home, and that the kingdom of
France alone is almost greater, than that it may well be
governed of one man : so that the king should not need to
study how to get more; and then should propose unto them
the decrees of the people that be called the Achoriens, which
be situate over against the island of Utopia on the south
east side. These Achoriens once made war in their king's
quarrel for to get him another kingdom, which he laid claim
unto, and advanced himself right inheritor to the crown
thereof, by the title of an old alliance. At the last when
they had gotten it, and saw that they had even as much
vexation and trouble in keeping it, as they had in getting
it, and that either their new conquered subjects by sundry
occasions were making daily insurrections to rebel against
them, or else that other countries were continually with
divers inroads and foragings invading them: so that they
were ever fighting either for them, or against them, and

UTOPIA 169

never could break up their camps: seeing themselves in the
mean season pilled and impoverished: their money carried
out of the realm: their own men killed to maintain the
glory of another nation ; when they had no war, peace noth
ing better than war, by reason that their people in war had
inured themselves to corrupt and wicked manners, that
they had taken a delight and pleasure in robbing and steal
ing: that through manslaughter they had gathered boldness
to mischief: that their laws were had in contempt, and
nothing set by or regarded: that their king being troubled
with the charge and governance of two kingdoms, could
not nor was not able perfectly to discharge his office towards
them both : seeing again that all these evils and troubles were
endless : at the last laid their heads together, and like faith
ful and loving subjects gave to their king free choice and
liberty to keep still the one of these two kingdoms whether
he would : alleging that he was not able to keep both, and
that they were more than might well be governed of half a
king : forasmuch as no man would be content to take him
for his muleteer, that keepeth another man's mules besides
his. So this good prince was constrained to be content with
his old kingdom and to give over the new to one of his
friends. Which shortly after was violently driven out. Fur
thermore if I should declare unto them, that all this busy
preparance to war, whereby so many nations for his sake
should be brought into a troublesome hurly-burly, when all
his coffers were emptied, his treasures wasted and his peo
ple destroyed, should at the length through some mischance be
in vain and to none effect: and that therefore it were best
for him to content himself with his own kingdom of France,
as his forefathers and predecessors did before him; to make
much of it, to enrich it, and to make it as flourishing as he
could, to endeavour himself to love his subjects, and again
to be beloved of them, willingly to live with them, peaceably
to govern them, and with other kingdoms not to meddle,
seeing that which he hath already is even enough for him,
yea, and more than he can well turn him to : this mine ad
vice, Master More, how think you it would be heard and
taken ?

So God help me not very thankfully, quoth I.

170 SIR THOMAS MORE

Well let us proceed then, quoth he. Suppose that some
king and his council were together whetting their wits, and
devising what subtle craft they might invent to enrich the
king with great treasures of money. First one counselled!
to raise and enhance the valuation of money when the king
must pay any: and again to call down the value of coin to
less than it is worth, when he must receive or gather any.
For thus great sums shall be paid with a little money, and
where little is due much shall be received. Another coun-
selleth to feign war, that when under this colour and pre
tence the king hath gathered great abundance of money, he
may, when it shall please him, make peace with great sol
emnity and holy ceremonies, to blind the eyes of the poor
commonalty, as taking pity and compassion God wot upon
man's blood, like a loving and a merciful prince. Another
putteth the king in remembrance of certain old and moth-
eaten laws, that of long time have not been put in execution,
which because no man can remember that they were made,
every man hath transgressed. The fines of these laws he
counselled! the king to require: for there is no way so
profitable nor more honourable, as the which hath a show
and colour of justice. Another adviseth him to forbid
many things under great penalties and fines, specially such
things as is for the people's profit not to be used, and after
ward to dispense for money with them, which by this pro
hibition sustain loss and damage. For by this means the
favour of the people is won, and profit riseth two ways.
First by taking forfeits of them whom covetousness of
gains hath brought in danger of this statute, and also by
selling privileges and licenses, which the better that the
prince is, forsooth the dearer he selleth them: as one that
is loath to grant to any private person anything that is
against the profit of his people. And therefore may sell
none but at an exceeding dear price. Another giveth the
king counsel to endanger unto his grace the judges of the
realm, that he may have them ever on his side, which
must in every matter dispute and reason for the king's
right. And they must be called into the king's palace
and be desired to argue and discuss his matters in his
own presence. So there shall be no matter of his so openly

UTOPIA 371

wrong and unjust, wherein one or other of them, either
because he will have something to allege and object, or
that he is ashamed to say that which is said already, or
else to pick a thank with his prince, will not find some hole
open to set a snare in, wherewith to take the contrary part
in a trip. Thus whiles the judges cannot agree among
themselves, reasoning and arguing of that which is plain
enough, and bringing the manifest truth in doubt: in the
mean season the king may take a fit occasion to understand
the law as shall most make for his advantage, whereunto all
other for shame, or for fear will agree. Then the judges
may be bold to pronounce of the king's side. For he that
giveth sentence for the king, cannot be without a good ex
cuse. For it shall be sufficient for him to have equity of his
part, or the bare words of the law, or a writhen and wrested
understanding of the same, or else (which with good and
just judges is of greater force than all laws be) the king's
indisputable prerogative. To conclude, all the councillors
agree and consent together with the rich Crassus, that no
abundance of gold can be sufficient for a prince, which must
keep and maintain an army : furthermore that a king,
though he would, can do nothing unjustly. For all that all
men have, yea also the men themselves be all his. And that
every man hath so much of his own, as the king's gentle
ness hath not taken from him. And that it shall be most
for the king's advantage, that his subjects have very little
or nothing in their possession, as whose safeguard doth here
in consist, that his people do not wax wanton and wealthy
through riches and liberty, because where these things be,
there men be not wont patiently to obey hard, unjust, and
unlawful commandments ; whereas on the other part need
and poverty doth hold clown and keep under stout courages,
and maketh them patient perforce, taking from them bold
and rebelling stomachs. Here again if I should rise up, and
boldly affirm that all these counsels be to the king dishonour
and reproach, whose honour and safety is more and rather
supported and upholden by the wealth and riches of his
people, than by his own treasures: and if I should declare
that the commonalty chooscth their king for their own sake
and not for his sake : for this intent, that through his labour

172 SIR THOMAS MORE

and study they might all live wealthily, safe from wrongs
and injuries: and that therefore the king ought to take
more care for the wealth of his people, than for his own
wealth, even as the office and duty of a shepherd is in that he
is a shepherd, to feed his sheep rather than himself. For
as touching this, that they think the defence and maintenance
of peace to consist in the poverty of the people, the thing
itself showeth that they be far out of the way. For where
shall a man find more wrangling, quarrelling, brawling, and
chiding, than among beggars? Who be more desirous of
new mutations and alterations, than they that be not con
tent with the present state of their life? Or finally who be
bolder stomached to bring all in hurly-burly (thereby trust
ing to get some windfall) than they that have now
nothing to lose? And if so be that there were any king
that were so smally regarded, so behated of his subjects, that
other ways he could not keep them in awe, but only by
open wrongs, by polling and shaving, and by bringing them to
beggary, surely it were better for him to forsake his king
dom, than to hold it by this means : whereby though the
name of a king be kept, yet the majesty is lost. For
it is against the dignity of a king to have rule over beggars,
but rather over rich and wealthy men. Of this mind was
the hardy and courageous Fabricius, when he said, that he
had rather be a ruler of rich men, than be rich himself.
And verily one man to live in pleasure and wealth, whiles all
other weep and smart for it, that is the part, not of a king,
but of a jailer. To be short, as he is a foolish physician,
that cannot cure his patient's disease, unless he cast him
in another sickness, so he that cannot amend the lives of
his subjects, but by taking from them the wealth and com
modity of life, he must needs grant that he knoweth not the
feat how to govern free men. But let him rather amend his
own life, renounce unhonest pleasures, and forsake pride. For
these be the chief vices that cause him to run in the contempt
or hatred of his people. Let him live of his own, hurting
no man. Let him do cost not above his power. Let him
restrain wickedness. Let him prevent vices, and take
away the occasions of offences by well ordering his sub
jects, and not by suffering wickedness to increase after-

UTOPIA 17b

ward to be punished. Let him not be too hasty in calling
again laws, which a custom hath abrogated: specially such
as have been long forgotten, and never lacked nor needed.
And let him never under the cloak and pretence of trans
gression take such fines and forfeits, as no judge will suffer
a private person to take, as unjust and full of guile. Here
if I should bring forth before them the law of the Macariens,
which be not far distant from Utopia: whose king the day
of his coronation is bound by a solemn oath, that he shall
never at any time have in his treasure above a thousand
pounds of gold or silver. They say a very good king, which
took more care for the wealth and commodity of his coun
try, than for the enriching of himself, made this law to be
a stop and a bar to kings for heaping and hoarding up
so much money as might impoverish their people. For he
foresaw that this sum of treasure would suffice to support
the king in battle against his own people, if they should
chance to rebel : and also to maintain his wars against the
invasions of his foreign enemies. Again he perceived the
same stock of money to be too little and insufficient to
encourage and enable him wrongfully to take away other
men's goods: which was the chief cause why the law was
made. Another cause was this. lie thought that by this
provision his people should not lack money, wherewith to
maintain their daily occupying and chaffer. And seeing the
king could not choose but lay out and bestow all that came
in above the prescript sum of his stock, he thought he would
seek no occasions to do his subjects injury. Such a king
shall be feared of evil men, and loved of good men. These,
and such other informations, if I should use among men
wholly inclined and given to the contrary part, how deaf
hearers think you should I have?

Deaf hearers doubtless (quoth I) and in good faith no
marvel. And to speak as I think, truly I cannot allow that
such communication shall be used, or such counsel given, as
you be sure shall never be regarded nor received. For how
can so strange informations be profitable, or how can they be
beaten into their heads, whose minds be already prevented
with clean contrary persuasion.5 ? This school philosophy is
not unpleasant among friends in familiar communication,

174 SIR THOMAS MORE

but in the councils of kings, where great matters be debated
and reasoned with great authority, these things have no place.

That is it which I meant (quoth he) when I said philoso
phy had no place among kings.

Indeed (quoth I) this school philosophy hath not, which
thinketh all things meet for every place. But there is an
other philosophy more civil, which knoweth, as ye would
say, her own stage, and thereafter ordering and behaving
herself in the play that she hath in hand, playeth her part
accordingly with comeliness, uttering nothing out of due
order and fashion. And this is the philosophy that you
must use. Or else whiles a comedy of Plautus is playing,
and the vile bondmen scoffing and trifling among themselves,
if you should suddenly come upon the stage in a philoso
pher's apparel, and rehearse out of Octavia the place
wherein Seneca disputeth with Nero: had it not been better
for you to have played the dumb person, than by rehearsing
that, which served neither for the time nor place, to have
made such a tragical comedy or gallimaufry ? For by bring
ing in other stuff that nothing appertaineth to the present
matter, you must needs mar and pervert the play that is in
hand, though the stuff that you bring be much better. What
part soever you have taken upon you, play that as well as
you can and make the best of it: and do not therefore dis
turb and bring out of order the whole matter, because that
another, which is merrier, and better, cometh to your remem
brance. So the case standeth in a commonwealth, and so it is
in the consultations of kings and princes. If evil opinions and
naughty persuasions cannot be utterly and quite plucked out
of their hearts, if you cannot, even as you would, remedy
vices, which use and custom hath confirmed : yet for this
cause you must not leave and forsake the commonwealth :
you must not forsake the ship in a tempest, because you
cannot rule and keep down the winds. No, nor you must
not labour to drive into their heads new and strange infor
mations, which you know well shall be nothing regarded
with them that be of clean contrary minds. But you must
with a crafty wile and a subtle train study and endeavour
yourself, as much as in you lieth, to handle the matter wittily
and handsomely for the purpose, and that which you cannot

UTOPIA 175

turn to good, so to order it that it be not very bad. For it is
not possible for all things to be well, unless all men were
good. Which I think will not be yet this good many years.
By this means (quoth he) nothing else will be brought to
pass, but whiles that I go about to remedy the madness of
others, I should be even as mad as they. For if I would
speak things that be true I must needs speak such
things; but as for to speak false things, whether that be a
philosopher's part or no ; I cannot tell, truly it is not my
part. Howbeit this communication of mine, though perad-
venture it may seem unpleasant to them, yet can I not see
why it should seem strange, or foolishly newfangled. If so
be that I should speak those things that Plato feigneth in
his weal public: or that the Utopians do in theirs, these
things though they were (as they be indeed) better, yet
they might seem spoken out of place. Forasmuch as here
amongst us, every man hath his possessions several to him
self, and there all things be common. But what was in my
communication contained, that might not, and ought not in
any place to be spoken? Saving that to them which have
thoroughly decreed and determined with themselves to roam
headlong the contrary way, it cannot be acceptable and pleas
ant, because it calleth them back, and showeth them the
jeopardies. Verily if all things that evil and vicious man
ners have caused to seem inconvenient and nought should
be refused, as things unmeet and reproachful, then we must
among Christian people wink at the most part of all those
things, which Christ taught us, and so strictly forbade them
to be winked at, that those things also which he whispered
in the ears of his disciples, he commanded to be proclaimed
in open houses. And yet the most part of them is more dis
sident from the manners of the world nowadays, than my
communication was. But preachers, sly and wily men, fol
lowing your counsel (as I suppose) because they saw men
evil willing to frame their manners to Christ's rule, they
have wrested and perverted his doctrine, and like a rule of
lead have applied it to men's manners : that by some means
at the leastways, they might agree together. Whereby I
cannot see what good they have done: but that men may
more sickerly be evil. And I truly should prevail even as

176 SIR THOMAS MORE

much in king's councils. For either I must say otherways
than they say, and then I were as good to say nothing, or
else I must say the same that they say, and (as Mitio saith
in Terence) help to further their madness. For that crafty
wile, and subtle train of yours, I cannot perceive to what
purpose it senreth, wherewith you would have me to study
and endeavour myself, if all things cannot be made good, yet
to handle them wittily and handsomely for the purpose, that
as far forth as is possible they may not be very evil. For
there is no place to dissemble in, nor to wink in. Naughty
counsels must be openly allowed and very pestilent decrees
must be approved. He shall be counted worse than a spy,
yea almost as evil as a traitor, that with a faint heart doth
praise evil and noisome decrees. Moreover a man can have
no occasion to do good chancing into the company of them
which will sooner make nought a good man, than be made good
themselves : through whose evil company he shall be marred,
or else if he remain good and innocent, yet the wickedness
and foolishness of others shall be imputed to him, and laid in
his neck. So that it is impossible with that crafty wile and
subtle train to turn anything to better. Wherefore Plato
by a goodly similitude declareth, why wise men refrain to
meddle in the commonwealth. For when they see the people
swarm into the streets, and daily wet to the skin with rain,
and yet cannot persuade them to go out of the rain and to
take their houses, knowing well, that if they should go out
to them, they should nothing prevail, nor win ought by it,
but be wet also in the rain, they do keep them
selves within their houses, being content that they be safe
themselves, seeing they cannot remedy the folly of the people.
Howbeit doubtless, Master More (to speak truly as my mind
giveth me) where soever possessions be private, where money
beareth all the stroke, it is hard and almost impossible that
there the weal public may justly be governed, and prosper
ously flourish. Unless you think thus: that justice is there
executed, where all things come into the hands of evil men;
or that prosperity there flourisheth, where all is divided
among a few ; which few nevertheless do not lead their lives
very wealthily, and the residue live miserably, wretchedly
and beggarly. Wherefore when I consider with myself and

UTOPIA 177

I weigh in my mind the wise and godly ordinances of the
Utopians, among whom with very few laws all things be so
well and wealthily ordered, that virtue is had in price and
estimation, and yet, all things being there common, every
man hath abundance of everything. Again on the other
part, when I compare with them so many nations ever mak
ing new laws, yet none of them all well and sufficiently fur
nished with laws ; where every man calleth that he hath
gotten, his own proper and private goods ; where so many
new laws daily made be not sufficient for every man to en
joy, defend, and know from another man's that which he
calleth his own ; which thing the infinite controversies in the
law, that daily rise never to be ended, plainly declare to be
true. These things (I say) when I consider with myself, I
hold well with Plato, and do nothing marvel, that he would
make no laws for them, that refused those laws, whereby
all men should have and enjoy equal portions of wealths and
commodities. For the wise man did easily foresee, that this is
the one and only way to the wealth of a commonalty, if
equality of all things should be brought in and established.
"Which I think is not possible to be observed, where every
man's goods be proper and peculiar to himself. For where
every man under certain titles and pretences draweth and
plucketh to himself as much as he can, and so a few divide
among themselves all the riches that there is, be there never
so much abundance and store, there to the residue is left lack
and poverty. And for the most part it chanceth, that this
latter sort is more worthy to enjoy that state of wealth, than
the other be : because the rich men be covetous, crafty and
unprofitable. On the other part the poor be lowly, simple,
and by their daily labour more profitable to the common
wealth than to themselves. Thus I do fully persuade myself,
that no equal and just distribution of things can be made,
nor that perfect wealth shall ever be among men, unless this
propriety be exiled and banished. But so long as it shall
continue, so long shall remain among the most and best
part of men the heavy and inevitable burden of poverty and
wretchedness. Which, as I grant that it may be somewhat
eased, so I utterly deny that it can wholly be taken away.
For if there were a statute made, that no man should possess

178 SIR THOMAS MORE

above a certain measure of ground, and that no man should
have in his stock above a prescript and appointed sum of
money: if it were by certain laws decreed, that neither the
king should be of too great power, neither the people too
proud and wealthy, and that offices should not be obtained
by inordinate suit, or by bribes and gifts: that they should
neither be bought nor sold, nor that it should be needful for
the officers, to be at any cost or charge in their offices : for
so occasion is given to the officers by fraud and ravin to
gather up their money again, and by reason of gifts and
bribes the offices be given to rich men, which should rather
have been executed of wise men : by such laws I say,
like as sick bodies that be desperate and past cure, be wont
with continual good cherishing to be kept up: so these
evils also might be lightened and mitigated. But that they
may be perfectly cured, and brought to a good and upright
state, it is not to be hoped for, whiles every man is master
of his own to himself. Yea, and whiles you go about to do
your cure of one part, you shall make bigger the sore of
another part, so the help of one causeth another's harm :
forasmuch as nothing can be given to any man unless that be
taken from another.

But I am of a contrary opinion (quoth I) for methinketh
that men shall never there live wealthily, where all things be
common. For how can there be abundance of goods, or of
anything, where every man withdraweth his hand from
labour? Whom the regard of his own gains driveth not
to work, and the hope that he hath in other men's travails
maketh him slothful. Then when they be pricked with pov
erty, and yet no man can by any law or right defend that
for his own, which he hath gotten with the labour of his
own hands, shall not there of necessity be continual sedi
tion and bloodshed? Specially the authority and reverence
of magistrates being taken away, which, what place it may
have with such men among whom is no difference, I can
not devise.

I marvel not (quoth he) that you be of this opinion. For
you conceive in your mind either none at all, or else a very
false image and similitude of this thing. But if you had
been with me in Utopia and had presently seen their fashions

UTOPIA 179

and laws, as I did, which lived there five years and more,
and would never have come thence, but only to make that
new land known here: then doubtless you would grant, that
you never saw people well ordered, but only there.

Surely (quoth Master Peter) it shall be hard for you to
make me believe, that there is better order in that new land,
than is here in these countries that we know. For good
wits be as well here as there : and I think our commonwealths
be ancienter than theirs ; wherein long use and experience
hath found out many things commodious for man's life,
besides that many things here among us have been found
by chance, which no wit could ever have devised.

As touching the ancientness (quoth he) of common
wealths, then you might better judge, if you had read the
histories and chronicles of that land, which if we may
believe, cities were there, before there were men here. Now
what thing soever hitherto by wit hath been devised, or found
by chance, that might be as well there as here. But I think
verily, though it were so that we did pass them in wit:
yet in study and laboursome endeavour they far pass
us. For (as their chronicles testify) before our ar
rival there, they never heard anything of us, whom they call
the ultra-equinoctials: saving that once about 1200 years
ago, a certain ship was lost by the isle of Utopia, which was
driven thither by tempest. Certain Romans and Egyptians
were cast on land. Which after that never went thence.
Mark now what profit they took of this one occasion through
diligence and earnest travail. There was no craft nor
science within the empire of Rome, whereof any profit could
rise, but they either learned it of these strangers, or else of
them taking occasion to search for it, found it out. So great
profit was it to them that ever any went thither from hence.
But if any like chance before this hath brought any man
from thence hither, that is as quite out of remembrance, as
this also perchance in time to come shall be forgotten, that
ever I was there. And like as they quickly, almost at the
first meeting, made their own whatsoever is among us
wealthily devised: so I suppose it would be long before we
would receive anything that among them is better instituted
than among us. And this I suppose is the chief cause why

180 SIR THOMAS MORE

their commonwealths be wiselier governed, and do flourish
in more wealth than ours, though we neither in wit nor riches
be their inferiors.

Therefore gentle Master Raphael (quoth I) I pray you
and beseech you describe unto us the island. And study not
to be short: but declare largely in order their grounds, their
rivers, their cities, their people, their manners, their ordi
nances, their laws, and to be short, all things, that you shall
think us desirous to know. And you shall think us desirous
to know whatsoever we know not yet.

There is nothing (quoth he) that I will do gladlier. For
all these things I have fresh in mind. But the matter re-
quireth leisure.

Let us go in therefore (quoth I) to dinner, afterward we
will bestow the time at our pleasure.

Content (quoth he) be it.

So we went in and dined. When dinner was done, we
came into the same place again, and sat us down upon the
same bench, commanding our servants that no man should
trouble us. Then I and Master Peter Giles desired Master
Raphael to perform his promise. He therefore seeing us
desirous and willing to hearken to him, when he had sat
still and paused a little while, musing and bethinking him
self, thus he began to speak.

THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

THE SECOND BOOK

The Second Book of the Communication of Raphael Hythlo-
day, concerning the best state of a commonwealth, con
taining the de.-cription of Utopia, with a large declara
tion of the (jodly government, and of all the good laws
and orders of the same Island

THE island of Utopia containeth in breadth in the
middle part of it (for there it is broadest) two hun
dred miles. Which breadth contimieth through the
most part of the land, saving that by little and little it cometh
in, and waxeth narrower towards both the ends. Which
fetching about a circuit or compass of five hundred miles, do
fashion the whole inland like to the new moon. Between
these two corners the sea runneth in, dividing them asunder
by the distance of cloven miles or thereabouts, and there sur-
mounteth into a large and wide sea, which by reason that
the land on every side compasseth it about, and sheltereth it
from the winds, is not rough, nor mounteth not with great
waves, but almost floweth quietly, not much unlike a great
standing pool : and maketh almost all the space within
the belly of the land in manner of a haven: and to the great
commodity of the inhabitants reccivcth in ships towards every
part of the land. The forefronts or frontiers of the two
corners, what with fords and shelves, and what with rocks
be very jeopardous and dangerous. In the middle distance
between them both standeth up above the water a great
rock, which therefore is nothing perilous because it is in
sight. Upon the top of this rock is a fair and a strong
tower builded, which they hold with a garrison of men.
Other rocks there be that lie hid under the water, and
therefore be dangerous. The channels be known only to
themselves. And therefore it seldom chanceth that any

181

182 SIR THOMAS MORE

stranger unless he be guided by a Utopian can come into
this haven. Insomuch that they themselves could scarcely
enter without jeopardy, but that their way is directed and
ruled by certain landmarks standing on the shore. By turn
ing, translating, and removing these marks into other places
they may destroy their enemies' navies, be they never so
many. The outside of the land is also full of havens,
but the landing is so surely defenced, what by nature,
and what by workmanship of man's hand, that a few
defenders may drive back many armies. Howbeit as
they say, and as the fashion of the place itself doth partly
show, it was not ever compassed about with the sea. But
King Utopus, whose name, as conqueror the island beareth
(for before that time it was called Abraxa) which also
brought the rude and wild people to that excellent perfection
in all good fashions, humanity, and civil gentleness, wherein
they now go beyond all the people of the world: even at
his first arriving and entering upon the land, forthwith
obtaining the victory, caused fifteen miles space of upland-
ish ground, where the sea had no passage, to be cut and
digged up.

And so brought the sea round about the land. He set to
this work not only the inhabitants of the island (because they
should not think it done in contumely and despite) but also
all his own soldiers. Thus the work being divided into so
great a number of workmen, was with exceeding marvellous
speed despatched. Insomuch that the borderers, which at the
first began to mock, and to jest at this vain enterprise, then
turned their laughter to marvel at the success, and to fear.
There be in the island fifty-four large and fair cities, or shire
towns, agreeing all together in one tongue, in like manners,
institutions and laws. They be all set and situate alike, and
in all points fashioned alike, as far forth as the place or plot
suffereth.

Of these cities they that be nighest together be twenty-
four miles asunder. Again there is none of them distant
from the next above one day's journey afoot. There come
yearly to Amaurote out of every city three old men wise
and well experienced, there to entreat and debate, of the
common matters of the land. For this city (because it

UTOPIA 183

standeth just in the midst of the island, and is therefore
most meet for the ambassadors of all parts of the realm) is
taken for the chief and head city. The precincts and bounds
of the shires be so commodiously appointed out, and set forth
for the cities, that never a one of them all hath of any side
less than twenty miles of ground, and of some side also
much more, as of that part where the cities be of farther
distance asunder. None of the cities desire to enlarge the
bounds and limits of their shires. For they count themselves
rather the good husbands than the owners of their lands.
They have in the country in all parts of the shire houses
or farms builded, well appointed and furnished with all
sorts of instruments and tools belonging to husbandry.
These houses be inhabited of the citizens, which come
thither to dwell by course. No household or farm in the
country hath fewer than forty persons, men and women,
besides two bondmen, which be all under the rule and order
of the good man, and the good wife of the house, being
both very sage and discreet persons. And every thirty
farms or families have one head ruler, which is called a
philarch, being as it were a head bailiff. Out of every one
of these families or farms cometh every year into the city
twenty persons which have continued two years before in
the country. In their place so many fresh be sent thither
out of the city, which of them that have been there a year
already, and be therefore expert and cunning in husbandry,
shall be instructed and taught. And they the next year
shall teach other. This order is used for fear that either
scarceness of victuals, or some other like incommodity should
chance, through lack of knowledge, if they should be alto
gether new, and fresh, and unexpert in husbandry. This
manner and fashion of yearly changing and renewing the
occupiers of husbandry, though it be solemn and customably
used, to the intent that no man shall be constrained against
his will to continue long in that hard and sharp kind of life,
yet many of them have such a pleasure and delight in hus
bandry, that they obtain a longer space of years. These
husbandmen plough and till the ground, and breed up cattle,
and make ready wood, which they carry to the city
either by land, or by water, as they ma} most conven-

184 SIR THOMAS MORE

iently. They bring up a great multitude of poultry, and that
by a marvellous policy. For the hens do not sit upon the
eggs : but by keeping them in a certain equal heat they bring
life into them, and hatch them. The chickens, as soon as
they be come out of the shell, follow men and women instead
of the hens. They bring up very few horses: nor none, but
very fierce ones : and for none other use or purpose,
but only to exercise their youth in riding and feats of arms.
For oxen be put to all the labour of ploughing and draw
ing. Which they grant to be not so good as horses at a
sudden brunt, and (as we say) at a dead lift, but yet they
hold opinion that they will abide and suffer much more
labour and pain than horses will. And they think that
they be not in danger and subject unto so many dis
eases, and that they be kept and maintained with much less
cost and charge: and finally that they be good for meat,
when they be past labour. They sow corn only for bread.
For their drink is either wine made of grapes, or else of
apples, or pears, or else it is clean water. And many times
mead made of honey or liquorice sodden in water, for
thereof they have great store. And though they know cer
tainly (for they know it perfectly indeed) how much victuals
the city with the whole country or shire round about it doth
spend : yet they sow much more corn, and breed up much more
cattle, than serveth for their own use, and the overplus they
part among their borderers. Whatsoever necessary things
be lacking in the country, all such stuff they fetch out of the
city: where without any exchange they easily obtain it of
the magistrates of the city. For every month many of them
go into the city on the holy day. When their harvest day
draweth near and is at hand, then the philarchs, which be
the head officers and bailiffs of husbandry, send word to the
magistrates of the city what number of harvest men is need
ful to be sent to them out of the city. The which company
of harvest men being there ready at the day appointed, al
most in one fair day despatcheth all the harvest work.

Of the Cities, and namely of Amaurote

As for their cities, he that knoweth one of them, knoweth
them all: they be all so like one to another, as farforth as

UTOPIA 185

the nature of the place permitted). I will describe there
fore to you one or other of them, for it skilleth not greatly
which: but which rather than Amaurote? Of them all this
is the worthiest and of most dignity. For the residue ac
knowledge it for the head city, because there is the council
house. Nor to me any of them all is better beloved, as
wherein I lived five whole years together. The city of
Amaurote standeth upon the side of a low hill in fashion
almost four square. For the breadth of it beginneth a little
beneath the top of the hill, and still continueth by the space
of two miles, until it come to the river of Anyder. The
length of it, which lieth by the river's side, is somewhat
more. The river of Anyder riseth twenty-four miles above
Amaurote out of a little spring. But being increased by
other small floods and brooks that run into it, and among
other two somewhat big ones, before the city it is half a
mile broad, and farther broader. And sixty miles beyond
the city it falleth into the Ocean sea. By all that space that
lieth between the sea and the city, and a good sort of miles also
above the city, the water ebbeth and floweth six hours to
gether with a swift tide. When the sea floweth in, for the
length of thirty miles it filleth all the Anyder with salt water,
and driveth back the fresh water of the river. And some
what further it changeth the sweetness of the fresh water
with saltness. But a little beyond that the river waxeth
sweet, and runneth forby the city fresh and pleasant. And
when the sea ebbeth, and goeth back again, the fresh water
followed) it almost even to the very fall into the sea. There
goeth a bridge over the river made not of piles of timber,
but of stonework with gorgeous and substantial arches at
that part of the city that is farthest from the sea: to the in
tent that ships may go along forby all the side of the city
without let. They have also another river which indeed is
not very great. But it runneth gently and pleasantly. For
it riseth even out of the same hill that the city standeth
upon, and runneth down a slope through the midst of the
city into Anyder. And because it riseth a little without the
city, the Amaurotians have inclosed the head spring of it
with strong fences and bulwarks, and so have joined it to the
city. This is done to the intent that the water should not

186 SIR THOMAS MORE

be stopped nor turned away, or poisoned, if their enemies
should chance to come upon them. From thence the water is
derived and brought down in canals of brick divers ways
into the lower parts of the city. Where that cannot be
done, by reason that the place will not suffer it, there they
gather the rain water in great cisterns, which doth them as
good service. The city is compassed about with a high and
thick wall full of turrets and bulwarks. A dry ditch,
but deep, and broad, and overgrown with bushes, briers
and thorns, goeth about three sides or quarters of the city.
To the fourth side the river itself serveth for a ditch. The
streets be appointed and set forth very commodious and
handsome, both for carriage, and also against the winds.
The houses be of fair and gorgeous building, and in the
street side they stand joined together in a long row through
the whole street without any partition or separation. The
streets be twenty feet broad. On the back side of the houses
through the whole length of the street, lie large gardens which
be closed in round about with the back part of the streets.
Every house hath two doors, one into the street, and a pos
tern door on the back side into the garden. These doors be
made with two leaves, never locked nor bolted, so easy to be
opened, that they will follow the least drawing of a finger, and
shut again by themselves. Every man that will, may go in,
for there is nothing within the houses that is private, or any
man's own. And every tenth year they change their houses
by lot. They set great store by their gardens. In them they
have vineyards, all manner of fruit, herbs, and flowers, so
pleasant, so well furnished and so finely kept, that I never saw
thing more fruitful, nor better trimmed in any place. Their
study and diligence herein cometh not only of pleasure, but
also of a certain strife and contention that is between street
and street, concerning the trimming, husbanding, and furnish
ing of their gardens : every man for his own part. And
verily you shall not lightly find in all the city anything, that
is more commodious, either for the profit of the citizens, or
for pleasure. And therefore it may seem that the first
founder of the city minded nothing so much as he did these
gardens. For they say that King Utopus himself, even at the
first beginning appointed and drew forth the platform of

UTOPIA 187

the city into this fashion and figure that it hath now, but
the gallant garnishing, and the beautiful setting forth of it,
whereunto he saw that one man's age would not suffice : tha"
he left to his posterity. For their chronicles, which they
keep written with all diligent circumspection, containing the
history of 1760 years, even from the first conquest of the
island, record and witness that the houses in the beginning
were very low, and like homely cottages or poor shepherd
houses, made at all adventures of every rude piece of
wood, that came first to hands, with mud walls and ridged
roofs, thatched over with straw. But now the houses be
curiously builded after a gorgeous and gallant sort, with
three stories one over another. The outsides of the walls
be made either of hard flint, or of plaster, or else of brick,
and the inner sides be well strengthened with timber work.
The roofs be plain and flat, covered with a certain kind of
plaster that is of no cost, and yet so tempered that no fire
can hurt or perish it, and withstandeth the violence of the
weather better than any lead. They keep the wind out of
their windows with glass, for it is there much used, and
somewhere also with fine linen cloth dipped in oil or amber,
and that for two commodities. For by this means more light
cometh in, and the wind is better kept out.

Of the Magistrates

Every thirty families or farms, choose them yearly an
officer, which in their old language is called the syphogrant,
and by a newer name, the philarch. Every ten syphogrants,
with all their 300 families be under an officer which was
once called the tranibore, now the chief philarch. Moreover as
concerning the election of the prince, all the syphogrants,
which be in number 200, first be sworn to choose him
whom they think most meet and expedient. Then by a secret
election, they name prince, one of those four whom the peo
ple before named unto them. For out of the four quarters
of the city there be four chosen, out of every quarter one,
to stand for the election : which be put up to the council.
The prince's office continueth all his lifetime, unless he be
deposed or put down for suspicion of tyranny. They choose

188 SIR THOMAS MORE

the tranibores yearly, but lightly they change them not.
All the other offices be but for one year. The tranibores
every third day, and sometimes, if need be, oftener come into
the council house with the prince. Their council is con
cerning the commonwealth. If there be any controversies
among the commoners, which be very few, they despatch
and end them by-and-by. They take ever two sypho-
grants to them in counsel, and every day a new couple.
And it is provided that nothing touching the commonwealth
shall be confirmed and ratified unless it have been reasoned
of and debated three days in the council, before it be de
creed. It is death to have any consultation for the com
monwealth out of the council, or the place of the common
election. This statute, they say, was made to the intent
that the prince and tranibores might not easily conspire to
gether to oppress the people by tyranny, and to change the
state of the weal public. Therefore matters of great weight
and importance be brought to the election house of the sypho-
grants, which open the matter to their families. And after
ward, when they have consulted among themselves, they
show their device to the council. Sometimes the matter is
brought before the council of the whole island. Further
more this custom also the council useth, to dispute or reason
of no matter the same day that it is first proposed or put
forth, but to defer it to the next sitting of the council. Be
cause that no man when he hath rashly there spoken that
cometh first to his tongue's end, shall then afterward rather
study for reasons wherewith to defend and confirm his firsl
foolish sentence, than for the commodity of the common
wealth : as one rather willing the harm or hindrance of the
weal public than any loss or diminution of his own existima-
tion. And as one that would not for shame (which is a very
foolish shame) be counted anything overseen in the mat
ter at the first. Who at the first ought to have spoken rather
wisely, than hastily, or rashly.

Of Sciences, Crafts, and Occupations

Husbandry is a science common to them all in general,
both men and women, wherein they be all expert and cunning.

UTOPIA 189

In this they be all instruct even from their youth : partly
in schools with traditions and precepts, and partly in
the country nigh the city, brought up as it were in playing
not only beholding the use of it, but by occasion of exercis
ing their bodies practising it also. Besides husbandry,
which (as I said) is common to them all, every one of
them learneth one or other several and particular science,
as his own proper craft. That is most commonly either
clothworking in wool or flax, or masonry, or the smith's
craft, or the carpenter's science. For there is none other
occupation that any number to speak of doth use there.
For their garments, which throughout all the island be of
one fashion (saving that there is a difference between the
man's garment and the woman's, between the married and
the unmarried) and this one continueth for evermore un
changed, seemly and comely to the eye, no let to the moving
and wielding of the body, also fit both for winter and
summer: as for these garments (I say) every family maketh
their own. But of the other foresaid crafts every man
learneth one. And not only the men, but also the women.
But the women, as the weaker sort, be put to the easier
crafts : they work wool and flax. The other more laboursome
sciences be committed to the men. For the most part every
man is brought up in his father's craft. For most commonly
they be naturally thereto bent and inclined. But if a man's
mind stand to any other, he is by adoption put into a
family of that occupation, which he doth most fantasy.
Whom not only his father, but also the magistrates do dili
gently look to, that he be put to a discreet and an honest
householder. Yea, and if any person, when he hath learned
one craft, be desirous to learn also another, he is likewise
suffered and permitted.

When he hath learned both, he occupieth whether he will :
unless the city have more need of the one, than of the other.
The chief and almost the only office of the syphogrants is,
to see and take heed that no man sit idle : but that every one
apply his own craft with earnest diligence. And yet for
all that, not to be wearied from early in the morning, to
late in the evening, with continual work, like labouring and
toiling beasts.

190 SIR THOMAS MORE

For this is worse than the miserable and wretched condi
tion of bondmen. Which nevertheless is almost everywhere
the life of workmen and artificers, saving in Utopia. For
they dividing the day and the night into twenty-four just
hours, appoint and assign only six of those hours to work;
three before noon, upon the which they go straight to dinner:
and after dinner, when they have rested two hours, then
they work three and upon that they go to supper.
About eight of the clock in the evening (counting one of
the clock at the first hour after noon) they go to bed:
eight hours they give to sleep. All the void time, that is
between the hours of work, sleep, and meat, that they be
suffered to bestow, every man as he liketh best himself.
Not to the intent that they should misspend this time in
riot or slothfulness : but being then licensed from the labour
of their own occupations, to bestow the time well and
thriftly upon some other good science, as shall please them.
For it is a solemn custom there, to have lectures daily
early in the morning, where to be present they only be
constrained that be namely chosen and appointed to learn
ing. Howbeit a great multitude of every sort of people, both
men and women, go to hear lectures, some one and some
another, as every man's nature is inclined. Yet, this not
withstanding, if any man had rather bestow this time upon
his own occupation (as it chanceth in many, whose minds
rise not in the contemplation of any science liberal) he is
not letted, nor prohibited, but is also praised and commended,
as profitable to the commonwealth. After supper they be
stow one hour in play: in summer in their gardens: in
winter in their common halls: where they dine and sup.
There they exercise themselves in music, or else in honest
and wholesome communication. Diceplay, and such other
foolish and pernicious games they know not. But they use
two games not much unlike the chess. The one is the battle
of numbers, wherein one number stealeth away another.
The other is wherein vices fight with virtues, as it were in
battle array, or a set field. In the which game is very
properly showed, both the strife and discord that vices
have among themselves, and again their unity and concord
against virtues. And also what vices be repugnant to what

UTOPIA 191

virtues: with what power and strength they assail them
openly : by what wiles and subtlety they assault them secretly :
with what help and aid the virtues resist and overcome the
puissance of the vices: by what craft they frustrate their
purposes: and finally by what sleight or means the one
getteth the victory. But here lest you be deceived, one
thing you must look more narrowly upon. For seeing they
bestow but six hours in work, perchance you may think
that the lack of some necessary things hereof may ensue.
But this is nothing so. For that small time is not only
enough but also too much for the store and abundance of
all things that be requisite, either for the necessity, or com
modity of life. The which thing you also shall perceive,
if you weigh and consider with yourselves how great a part
of the people in other countries liveth idle. First almost
all women, which be the half of the whole number: or else
if the women be anywhere occupied, there most commonly
in their stead the men be idle. Besides this how great, and
how idle a company is there of priests, and religious men,
as they call them? put thereto all rich men, especially all
landed men, which commonly be called gentlemen, and noble
men. Take into this number also their servants: I mean
all that flock of stout bragging rush bucklers. Join to them
also, sturdy and valiant beggars, cloaking their idle life under
the colour of some disease or sickness. And truly you shall
find them much fewer than you thought, by whose labour
all these things be gotten that men use and live by.
Now consider with yourself, of these few that do work,
how few be occupied, in necessary works. For where
money beareth all the swing, there many vain and
superfluous occupations must needs be used, to serve
only for riotous superfluity and unhonest pleasure. For
the same multitude that now is occupied in work, if
they were divided into so few occupations as the necessary
use of nature requireth ; in so great plenty of things as then
of necessity would ensue, doubtless the prices would be too
little for the artificers to maintain their livings. But if all
these, that be now busied about unprofitable occupations,
with all the whole flock of them that live idly and sloth-
fully, which consume and waste every one of them more of

192 SIR THOMAS MORE

these things that come by other men's labour, than two of
the workmen themselves do: if all these (I say) were set
to profitable occupations, you easily perceive how little time
would be enough, yea and too much to store us with all
things that may be requisite either for necessity, or for
commodity, yea or for pleasure, so that the same pleasure
be true and natural. And this in Utopia the thing itself
maketh manifest and plain. For there in all the city, with
the whole country, or shire adjoining to it scarcely 500
persons of all the whole number of men and women, that
be neither too old, nor too weak to work, be licensed
from labour. Among them be the syphogrants which
(though they be by the laws exempt and privileged
from labour) yet they exempt not themselves: to the intent
they may the rather by their example provoke other to
work. The same vacation from labour do they also enjoy,
to whom the people persuaded by the commendation of the
priests, and secret election of the syphogrants, have given
a perpetual license from labour to learning. But if any
one of them prove not according to the expectation and hope
of him conceived, he is forthwith plucked back to the com
pany of artificers. And contrariwise, often it chanceth that
a handicraftsman doth so earnestly bestow his vacant and
spare hours in learning, and through diligence so profit
therein, that he is taken from his handy occupation, and
promoted to the company of the learned. Out of this order
of the learned be chosen ambassadors, priests, tranibores,
and finally the prince himself. Whom they in their old
tongue call Barzanes, and by a newer name, Adamus. The
residue of the people being neither idle nor occupied
about unprofitable exercises, it may be easily judged in how
few hours how much good work by them may be done
towards those things that I have spoken of. This
commodity they have also above other, that in the most
part of necessary occupations they need not so much work,
as other nations do. For first of all the building or repair
ing of houses asketh everywhere so many men's continual
labour, because that the unth[r]ifty heir suffereth the houses
that his father builded in continuance of time to fall in decay.
So that which he might have upholden with little cost, his

UTOPIA 193

successor is constrained to build it again anew, to his great
charge. Yea many times also the house that stood one man
in much money, another is of so nice and so delicate a mind,
that he setteth nothing by it. And it being neglected, and
therefore shortly falling into ruin, he buildeth up another
in another place with no less cost and charge. But among the
Utopians, where all things be set in a good order, and the
commonwealth in a good stay, it very seldom chanceth,
that they choose a new plot to build an house upon. And
they do not only find speedy and quick remedies for present
faults: but also prevent them that be like to fall. And by
this means their houses continue and last very long with
little labour and small reparations : insomuch that this kind
of workmen sometimes have almost nothing to do. But that
they be commanded to hew timber at home, and to square
and trim up stones, to the intent that if any work chance,
it may the speedier rise. Xow, sir. in their apparel, mark
(I pray you) how few workmen they need. First of all,
whilst they be at work, they be covered homely with leather
or skins, that will last seven years. \Ylien they go forth abroad
they cast upon them a cloak, which hideth the other homely
app;ir. 1. These cloaks throughout the whole island be all
of one colour, and that is the natural colour of the wool.
They therefore do not only spend much less woollen cloth
than is spent in other countries, but also the same standeth
them in much less cost. But linen cloth is made with less
labour, and is therefore had more in use. But in linen cloth
only whiteness, in woollen only cleanliness is regarded. As
for the smallness or fineness of the thread, that is nothing
passed for. And this is the cause wherefore in other places
four or five cloth gowns of divers colours, and as many silk
coats be not enough for one man. Yea and if he be of the
delicate and nice sort ten be too few: whereas there one
garment will serve a man most commonly two years. For
why should he desire more? Seeing if he had them, he
should not be the better wrapped or covered from cold,
neither in his apparel any whit the comelier. Wherefore,
seeing they be all exercised in profitable occupations, and
that few artificers in the same crafts be sufficient, this is
the cause that plenty of all things being among them, they
HC xxxvi (G)

194 SIR THOMAS MORE

do sometimes bring forth an innumerable company of people
to amend the highways, if any be broken. Many times also,
when they have no such work to be occupied about, an open
proclamation is made, that they shall bestow fewer hours in
work. For the magistrates do not exercise their citizens
against their wills in unneedful labours. For why? in the
institution of that weal public, this end is only and chiefly
pretended and minded, that what time may possibly be
spared from the necessary occupations and affairs of the
commonwealth, all that the citizens should withdraw from
the bodily service to the free liberty of the mind, and gar
nishing of the same. For herein they suppose the felicity
of this life to consist.

Of their living and mutual conversation together

But now will I declare how the citizens use themselves
one towards another : what familiar occupying and enter
tainment there is among the people, and what fashion they
use in distributing every thing. First the city con-
sisteth of families, the families most commonly be made of
kindreds. For the women, when they be married at a lawful
age, they go into their husbands' houses. But the male
children with all the whole male offspring continue still in
their own family and be governed of the eldest and ancient-
est father, unless he dote for age: for then the next to him
MI age is put in his room. But to the intent the prescript
number of the citizens should neither decrease, nor above
measure increase, it is ordained that no family which in
every city be six thousand in the whole, besides them of
the country, shall at once have fewer children of the age of
fourteen years or thereabout than ten or more than sixteen,
for of children under this age no number can be ap
pointed. This measure or number is easily observed
and kept, by putting them that in fuller families be above
the number into families of smaller increase. But if chance
be that in the whole city the store increase above the just
number, therewith they fill up the lack of other cities. But if
so be that the multitude throughout the whole island pass
and exceed the due number, then they choose out of every

UTOPIA 195

city certain citizens, and build up a town under their own
laws in the next land where the inhabitants have much waste
and unoccupied ground, receiving also of the inhabitants
to them, if they will join and dwell with them. They
thus joining and dwelling together do easily agree in one
fashion of living, and that to the great wealth of both the
peoples. For they so bring the matter about by their laws,
that the ground which before was neither good nor prof
itable for the one nor for the other, is now sufficient and
fruitful enough for them both. But if the inhabitants of
that land will not dwell with them to be ordered by their
laws, then they drive them out of those bounds which they
have limited, and appointed out for themselves. And if they
resist and rebel, then they make war against them. For
they count this the most just cause of war, when any people
holdeth a piece of ground void and vacant, to no good nor
profitable use, keeping other from the use and possession
of it, which notwithstanding by the law of nature
ought thereof to be nourished and relieved. If any
chance do so much diminish the number of any of their
cities, that it cannot be filled up again, without the diminish
ing of the just number of the other cities (which they say
chanced but twice since the beginning of the land
through a great pestilent plague) then they make up the
number with citizens fetched out of their own foreign
towns, for they had rather suffer their foreign towns to
decay and perish, than any city of their own island to be
diminished. But now again to the conversation of the
citizens among themselves. The eldest (as I said) ruleth
the family. The wives be ministers to their husbands, the
children to their parents, and to be short the younger to
their elders. Every city is divided into four equal parts.
In the midst of every quarter there is a market place
of all manner of things. Thither the works of every
family be brought into certain houses. And every kind of
thing is laid up in several barns or storehouses. From
hence the father of every family, or every householder
fetcheth whatsoever he and his have need of, and carrieth
it away with him without money, without exchange, without
any gage, or pledge. For why should any thing be denied

196 SIR THOMAS MORE

unto him? Seeing there is abundance of all things, and that
it is not to be feared, lest any man will ask more than he
needeth. For why should it be thought that that man would
ask more than enough, which is sure never to lack? Cer
tainly in all kinds of living creatures either fear of lack doth
cause covetousness and ravin, or in man only pride, which
counteth it a glorious thing to pass and excel other in the
superfluous and vain ostentation of things. The which kind
of vice among the Utopians can have no place. Next to the
market places that I spake of, stand meat markets: whither
be brought not only all sorts of herbs, and the fruits of trees,
with bread, but also fish, and all manner of four-footed
beasts, and wild fowl that be man's meat. But first the
filthiness and ordure thereof is clean washed away in the
running river without the city in places appointed meet for
the same purpose. From thence the beasts [be] brought in
killed, and clean washed by the hands of their bondmen.
For they permit not their free citizens to accustom them
selves to the killing of beasts, through the use whereof they
think that clemency, the gentlest affection of our nature, doth
by little and little decay and perish. Neither they suffer any
thing that is filthy, loathsome, or uncleanly, to be brought into
the city, lest the air by the stench thereof infected and corrupt,
should cause pestilent diseases. Moreover every street hath
certain great large halls set in equal distance one from another,
every one known by a several name. In these halls dwell
the syphogrants. And to every one of the same halls be
appointed thirty families, on either side fifteen. The stewards
of every hall at a certain hour come into the meat markets,
where they receive meat according to the number of their
halls. But first and chiefly of all, respect is had to the sick,
that be cured in the hospitals. For in the circuit of the city,
a little without the walls, they have four hospitals, so big,
so wide, so ample, and so large, that they may seem four
little towns, which were devised of that bigness partly to
the intent the sick, be they never so many in number, should
not lie too throng or strait, and therefore uneasily and
incommodiously : and partly that they which were taken and
holden with contagious diseases, such as be wont by infection
to creep from one to another, might be laid apart far from

UTOPIA 197

the company of the residue. These hospitals be so well
appointed, and with all things necessary to health so fur
nished, and moreover so diligent attendance t'-iruigh the
continual presence of cunning physicians is given, that
though no man be sent thither against his will, yet notwith
standing there is no sick person in all the city, that had not
rather lie there than at home in his own house. When
the steward of the sick hath received such meats as the
physicians have prescribed, then the best is equally divided
among the halls, according to the company of every one,
saving that there is had a respect to the prince, the bishop,
the tranibores, and to ambassadors and all strangers, if
there be any, which be very few and seldom. But they also
when they be there, have certain houses appointed and
prepared for them. To these halls at the set hours of
dinner and supper cometh all the whole syphogranty or ward,
warned by the noise of a brazen trumpet: except such as
be sick in the hospitals or else in their own houses. How-
beit no man is prohibited or forbid, after the halls be
served, to fetch home meat out of the market to his own
house, for they know that no man will do it without a cause
reasonable. For though no man be prohibited to dine at
home, yet no man dotli it willingly: because it is counted
a point of small honesty. And also it were a folly to take
the pain to dress a bad dinner at home, when they may be
welcome to good and fine fare so nigh hand at the hall.
In this hall all vile service, all slavery, and drudgery, with
all laboursome toil and business, is done by bondmen.
But the women of every family by course have the office
and charge of cookery for seething and dressing the meat,
and ordering all things thereto belonging. They sit at
three tables or more, according to the number of their com
pany. The men sit upon the bench next the wall, and the
women against them on the other side of the table, that if
any sudden evil should chance to them, as many times
happeneth to women with child, they may rise without
trouble or disturbance of anybody, and go thence into the
nursery. The nurses sit several alone with their young
sucklings in a certain parlour appointed and deputed to the
same purpose, never without fire and clean water, nor yet

198 SIR THOMAS MORE

without cradles, that when they will they may lay down the
young infants, and at their pleasure take them out of their
swathing clothes, and hold them to the fire, and refresh
them with play. Every mother is nurse to her own child,
unless either death, or sickness be the let. When that
chanceth, the wives of the syphogrants quickly provide a
nurse. And that is not hard to be done. For they that can
do it, do proffer themselves to no service so gladly as to that.
Because that there this kind of pity is much praised: and the
child that is nourished, ever after taketh his nurse for his
own natural mother. Also among the nurses sit all the chil
dren that be under the age of five years. All the other child-
dren of both kinds, as well boys as girls, that be under the age
of marriage, do either serve at the tables, or else if they be
too young thereto, yet they stand by with marvellous silence.
That which is given to them from the table they eat, and
other several dinner-time they have none. The syphogrant
and his wife sit in the midst of the high table, forasmuch as
that is counted the honourablest place, and because from
thence all the whole company is in their sight. For that table
standeth overthwart the over end of the hall. To them be
joined two of the ancientest and eldest. For at every table
they sit four at a mess. But if there be a church standing
in that syphogranty or ward, then the priest and his wife
sitteth with the syphogrant, as chief in the company. On
both sides of them sit young men, and next unto them again
old men. And thus throughout all the house equal of
age be set together, and yet be mixed with unequal
ages. This, they say, was ordained, to the intent that the
sage gravity and reverence of the elders should keep the
younger from wanton license of words and behaviour. For
asmuch as nothing can be so secretly spoken or done at the
table, but either they that sit on the one side or on the other
must needs perceive it. The dishes be not set down in order
from the first place, but all the old men (whose places be
marked with some special token to be known) be first
served of their meat, and then the residue equally. The old
men divide their dainties as they think best to the younger
that sit on each side of them.

Thus the elders be not defrauded of their due honour, and

UTOPIA 199

nevertheless equal commodity cometh to every one. They
begin every dinner and supper of reading something that
pertaineth to good manners and virtue. But it is short,
because no man shall be grieved therewith. Hereof the
elders take occasion of honest communication, but neither
sad nor unpleasant. Howbeit they do not spend all the
whole dinner-time themselves with long and tedious talks:
but they gladly hear also the young men : yea, and do purpose
ly provoke them to talk, to the intent that they may have a
proof of every man's wit, and towarclness, or disposition
to virtue, which commonly in the liberty of feasting doth
show and utter itself. Their dinners be very short: but
their suppers be somewhat longer, because that after dinner
followeth labour, after supper sleep and natural rest, which
they think to be of more strength and efficacy to wholesome
and healthful digestion. No supper is passed without music.
Nor their banquets lack no conceits nor junkets. They burn
sweet gums and spices for perfumes, and pleasant smells,
and sprinkle about sweet ointments and waters, yea, they
leave nothing undone that maketh for the cheering of the
company. For they be much inclined to this opinion: to
think no kind of pleasure forbidden, whereof cometh no
harm. Thus therefore and after this sort they live together
in the city, but in the country they that dwell alone far
from any neighbours, do dine and sup at home in their own
houses. For no family there lacketh any kind of victuals,
as from whom cometh all that the citizens eat and live by.

Of their journeying or travelling abroad, zuith divers other
matters cunningly reasoned, and wittily discussed

But if any be desirous to visit either their friends that
dwell in another city, or to see the place itself: they easily
obtain licence of their syphogrants and tranibores, unless
there be some profitable let. No man goeth out alone but
a company is sent forth together with their prince's letters,
which do testify that they have licence to go that journey,
and prescribeth also the day of their return. They have
a waggon given them, with a common bondman, which
driveth the oxen, and taketh charge of them. But unless

200 SIR THOMAS MORE

they have women in their company, they send home the
waggon again, as an impediment and a let. And though
they carry nothing forth with them, yet in all their journey
they lack nothing. For wheresoever they come they be at
home. If they tarry in a place longer than one day, then
there every one of them falleth to his own occupation, and
be very gently entertained of the workmen and companies
of the same crafts. If any man of his own head and without
leave, walk out of his precinct and bounds, taken without
the prince's letters, he is brought again for a fugitive or a
runaway with great shame and rebuke, and is sharply
punished. If he be taken in that fault again, he is punished
with bondage. If any be desirous to walk abroad into the
fields, or into the country that belongeth to the same city
that he dwelleth in, obtaining the goodwill of his father,
and the consent of his wife, he is not prohibited. But into
what part of the country soever he cometh he hath no
meat given him until he have wrought out his forenoon's
task, or else despatched so much work, as there is wont to be
wrought before supper. Observing this law and condition,
he may go whither he will within the bounds of his own
city. For he shall be no less profitable to the city, than
if he were within it. Now you see how little liberty they
have to loiter: how they can have no cloak or pretence to
idleness. There be neither wine taverns, nor ale-houses,
nor stews, nor any occasion of vice or wickedness, no
lurking corners, no places of wicked counsels or unlawful
assemblies. But they be in the present sight, and under the
eyes of every man. So that of necessity they must either
apply their accustomed labours, or else recreate themselves
with honest and laudable pastimes.

This fashion being used among the people, they must of
necessity have store and plenty of all things. And seeing they
be all thereof partners equally, therefore can no man there be
poor or needy. In the council of Amaurote, whither, as I
said, every city sendeth three men apiece yearly, as soon as
it is perfectly known of what things there is in every place
plenty, and again what things be scant in any place : incon
tinent the lack of the one is performed and filled up with
the abundance of the other. And this they do freely without

UTOPIA 201

any benefit, taking nothing again of them, to whom the things
is given, but those cities that have given of their store to any
other city that lacketh, requiring nothing again of the same
city, do take such things as they lack of another city, to
whom they gave nothing. So the whole island is as it
were one family, or household. But when they have made
sufficient provision of store for themselves (which they think
not done, until they have provided for two years following
because of the uncertainty of the next year's proof) then
of those things, whereof they have abundance, they carry
forth into other countries great plenty : as grain, honey, wool,
flax, wood, madder, purple dyed fells, wax, tallow-, leather, and
living beasts. And the seventh part of all these things they
give frankly and freely to the poor of that country. The
residue they sell at a reasonable and mean price. By this
trade of traffic or merchandise, they bring into their own
country, not only great plenty of gold and silver, but also
all such things as they lack at home, which is almost nothing
but iron. And by reason they have long used this trade, now
they have more abundance of these things, than any man will
believe. Xow therefore they care not whether they sell for
ready money, or else upon trust to be paid at a day, and to
have the most part in debts. But in so doing they never fol
low7 the credence of private men: but the assurance or
warrantys of the whole city, by instruments and writings
made in that behalf accordingly. When the day of payment
is come and expired, the city gathereth up the debt of the
private debtors, and puttcth it into the common box and so
long hath the use and profit of it, until the Utopians their
creditors demand it. The most part of it they never ask. For
that thing which is to them no profit to take it from other, to
whom it is profitable : they think it no right nor conscience.
But if the case so stand, that they must lend part of that
money to another people, then they require their debt: or
when they have war. For the which purpose only they keep
at home all the treasure which they have, to be holpen and
succoured by it either in extreme jeopardies, or in sudden
dangers. But especially and chiefly to hire therewith, and
that for unreasonable great wages, strange soldiers. For
they had rather put strangers in jeopardy, than their own

202 SIR THOMAS MORE

countrymen: knowing that for money enough, their enemies
themselves many times may be bought and sold, or else
through treason be set together by the ears among them
selves. For this cause they keep an inestimable treasure.
But yet not as a treasure: but so they have it, and use it,
as in good faith I am ashamed to show : fearing that my
words shall not be believed. And this I have more cause
to fear, for that I know how difficultly and hardly I myself
would have believed another man telling the same, if I had
not presently seen it with mine own eyes.

For it must needs be, that how far a thing is dissonant and
disagreeing from the guise and trade of the hearers, so far
shall it be out of their belief. Howbeit, a wise and indif
ferent esteemer of things will not greatly marvel perchance,
seeing all their other laws and customs do so much differ
from ours, if the use also of gold and silver among them
be applied, rather to their own fashions than to ours. I
mean in that they occupy not money themselves, but keep it
for that chance, which as it may happen, so it may be that
it shall never come to pass. In the meantime gold and sil
ver, whereof money is made, they do so use, as none of them
doth more esteem it, than the very nature of the thing
deserveth. And then who doth not plainly see how far
it is under iron: as without the which men can no better
live than without fire and water. Whereas to gold and silver
nature hath given no use, that we may not well lack : if that
the folly of men had not set it in higher estimation for the
rareness sake. But of the contrary part, nature as a most
tender and loving mother, hath placed the best and most
necessary things open abroad: as the air, the water and the
earth itself. And hath removed and hid farthest from us
vain and unprofitable things. Therefore if these metals
among them should be fast locked up in some tower, it
might be suspected, that the prince and the council (as the
people is ever foolishly imagining) intended by some subtilty
to deceive the commons, and to take same profit of it to
themselves. Furthermore if they should make thereof plate
and such other finely and cunningly wrought stuff: if at any
time they should have occasion to break it, and melt it
again, and therewith to pay their soldiers' wages, they see and

UTOPIA 203

perceive very well, that men would be loath to part from
those things, that they once began to have pleasure and de
light in. To remedy all this they have found out a means,
which, as it is agreeable to all their other laws and customs,
so it is from ours, where gold is so much set by and so
diligently kept, very far discrepant and repugnant : and
therefore incredible, but only to them that be wise. For
whereas they eat and drink in earthen and glass vessels,
which indeed be curiously and properly made, and yet be
of very small value: of gold and silver they make commonly
chamber pots, and other like vessels, that serve for most vile
uses, not only in their common halls, but in every man's
private house. Furthermore of the same metals they make
great chains, with fetters, and gyves wherein they tie their
bondmen. Finally whosoever for any offence be infamed, by
their ears hang rings of gold, upon their fingers they wear
rings of gold, and about their necks chains of gold, and in
conclusion their heads be tied about with gold. Thus by all
means that may be they procure to have gold and silver among
them in reproach and infamy. And therefore these metals,
which other nation? do as grievously and sorrowfully forgo, as
in a manner from their own lives: if they should altogether at
once be taken from the Utopians, no man there would think
that he had lost the worth of one farthing. They gather
also pearls by the sea-side, and diamonds and carbuncles
upon certain rocks, and yet they seek not for them : but by
chance finding them, they cut and polish them. And there
with they deck their young infants. Which like as in the
first years of their childhood, they make much and be fond
and proud of such ornaments, so when they be a little more
grown in years and discretion, perceiving that none but
children do wear such toys and trifles : they lay them away
even of their own shamefacedness, without any bidding of
their parents: even as our children, when they wax big, do
cast away nuts, brooches, and puppets. Therefore these
laws and customs, which be so far different from all other
nations, how divers fantasies also and minds they do cause,
did I never so plainly perceive, as in the ambassadors of the
Anemolians.

These ambassadors came to Amaurote whilest I was there.

204 SIR. THOMAS MORE

And because they came to entreat of great and weighty
matters, those three citizens apiece out of every city were
come thither before them. But all the ambassadors of the
next countries, which had been there before, and knew the
fashions and manners of the Utopians, among whom they
perceived no honour given to sumptuous and costly apparel,
silks to be contemned, gold also to be infamed and reproach
ful, were wont to come thither in very homely and simple ap
parel. But the Anemolians, because they dwell far thence and
had very little acquaintance with them, hearing that they were
all apparelled alike, and that very rudely and homely : think
ing them not to have the things which they did not wear : be
ing therefore more proud, than wise : determined in the gor-
geousness of their apparel to represent very gods, and with
the bright shining and glistering of their gay clothing to
dazzle the eyes of the silly poor Utopians. So there came
in three ambassadors with one hundred servants all ap
parelled in changeable colours: the most of them in silks:
the ambassadors themselves (for at home in their own coun
try they were noblemen) in cloth of gold, with great chains
of gold, with gold hanging at their ears, with gold rings
upon their fingers, with brooches and aglets of gold upon
their caps, which glistered full of pearls and precious stones :
to be short, trimmed and adorned with all those things, which
among the Utopians were either the punishment of bond
men, or the reproach of infamed persons, or else trifles for
young children to play withal. Therefore it would have
done a man good at his heart to have seen how proudly
they displayed their peacock's feathers, how much they
made of their painted sheaths, and how loftily they set forth
and advanced themselves, when they compared their gallant
apparel with the poor raiment of the Utopians. For all the
people were swarmed forth into the streets. And on the
other side it was no less pleasure to consider how much they
were deceived, and how far they missed of their purpose,
being contrariwise taken than they thought they should have
been. For to the eyes of all the Utopians, except very few,
which had been in other countries for some reasonable
cause, all that gorgeousness of apparel seemed shameful and
reproachful. Insomuch that they most reverently saluted

UTOPIA 205

the vilest and most abject of them for lords : passing over
the ambassadors themselves without any honour: judging
them by their wearing of golden chains to be bondmen. Yea
you should have seen children also, that had cast away
their pearls and precious stones, when they saw the like
sticking upon the ambassadors' caps, dig and push their
mothers under the sides, saying thus to them. Look, mother,
how great a lubber doth yet wear pearls and precious stones,
as though he were a little child still. But the mother, yea,
and that also in good earnest: peace, son, saith she: I
think he be some of the ambassadors' fools. Some found
fault at their golden chains, as to no use nor purpose, being so
small and weak, that a bondman might easily break them,
and again so wide and large, that when it pleased him, he
might cast them off, and run away at liberty whither he would.
But when the ambassadors had been there a day or two and
saw so great abundance of gold so lightly esteemed, yea in
no less reproach, than it was with them in honour : and
besides that more gold in the chains and gyves of one
fugitive bondman, than all the costly ornaments of them three
was worth: they began to abate their courage, and for
very shame laid away all that gorgeous array, whereof they
were so proud. And specially when they had talked famil
iarly with the Utopians, and had learned all their fashions
and opinions.

For they marvel that any men be so foolish, as to have
delight and pleasure in the glistering of a little trifling stone,
which may behold any of the stars, or else the sun itself.
Or that any man is so mad, as to count himself the nobler
for the smaller or finer thread of wool, which selfsame wool
(be it now in never so fine a spun thread) did once a sheep
wear: and yet was she all that time no other thing than a
sheep. They marvel also that gold, which of the own nature
is a thing so unprofitable, is now among all people in so high
estimation, that man himself, by whom, yea and for the
use of whom it is so much set by, is in much less estimation
than the gold itself. Insomuch that a lumpish blockheaded
churl, and which hath no more wit than an ass, yea and as
full of worthlessness and foolishness, shall have nevertheless
many wise and good men in subjection and bondage, only

206 SIR THOMAS MORE

for this, because he hath a great heap of gold. Which if it
should be taken from him by any fortune, or by some subtle
wile of the law (which no less than fortune doth raise up the
low and pluck down the high), and be given to the most
vile slave and abject drudge of all his household, then shortly
after he shall go into the service of his servant, as an aug
mentation or an overplus beside his money. But they mucn
more marvel at and detest the madness of them which to
those rich men, in whose debt and danger they be not, do
give almost divine honours, for none other consideration, but
because they be rich: and yet knowing them to be such
niggardly penny-fathers, that they be sure as long as they
live, not the worth of one farthing of that heap of gold
shall come to them.

These and such like opinions have they conceived, partly
by education, being brought up in that commonwealth, whose
laws and customs be far different from these kinds of folly,
and partly by good literature and learning. For though
there be not many in every city, which be exempt and dis
charged of all other labours, and appointed only to learn
ing; that is to say, such in whom even from their very
childhood they have perceived a singular towardness, a fine
wit, and a mind apt to good learning: yet all in their child
hood be instruct in learning. And the better part of the
people, both men and women throughout all their whole
life do bestow in learning those spare hours, which we said
they have vacant from bodily labours. They be taught
learning in their own native tongue. For it is both copious
in words, and also pleasant to the ear, and for the utterance
of a man's mind very perfect and sure. The most part of
all that side of the world useth the same language, saving
that among the Utopians it is finest and purest, and accord
ing to the diversity of the countries it is diversely altered.
Of all these philosophers, whose names be here famous in
this part of the world to us known, before our coming
thither not as much as the fame of any of them was come
among them. And yet in music, logic, arithmetic, and geom
etry they have found out in a manner all that our ancient
philosophers have taught. But as they in all things be
almost equal to our old ancient clerks, so our new logicians

UTOPIA 207

in subtle inventions have far passed and gone beyond them.
For they have not devised one of all those rules of restric
tions, amplifications and suppositions, very wittily invented
in the small logicals, which here our children in every
place do learn. Furthermore they were never yet able to
find out the second intentions: insomuch that none of them
all could ever see man himself in common, as they call
him, though he be (as you know) bigger than ever was
any giant, yea and pointed to of us even with our finger.
But they be in the course of the stars, and the movings
of the heavenly spheres very expert and cunning. They
have also wittily excogitated and devised instruments of
divers fashions : wherein is exactly comprehended and con
tained the movings and situations of the sun, the moon, and
of all the other stars, which appear in their horizon. But
as for the amities and dissensions of the planets, and all
that deceitful divination by the stars, they never as much
as dreamed thereof. Rains, winds, and other courses of
tempests they know before by certain tokens, which they
have learned by long use and observation. But of the
causes of all these things and of the ebbing, flowing and
saltness of the sea, and finally of the original beginning and
nature of heaven and of the world, they hold partly the
same opinions that our old philosophers hold, and partly,
as our philosophers vary among themselves, so they also,
whiles they bring new reasons of things, do disagree from
all them, and yet among themselves in all points they do
not accord. In that part of philosophy, which treateth of
manners and virtue, their reasons and opinions agree with
ours. They dispute of the good qualities of the soul, of the
body and of fortune. And whether the name of goodness may
be applied to all these, or only to the endowments and gifts
of the soul.

They reason of virtue and pleasure. But the chief and
principal question is in what thing, be it one or more, the
felicity of man consisteth. But in this point they seem
almost too much given and inclined to the opinion of them
which defend pleasure, wherein they determine either all or
the chief est part of man's felicity to rest. And (which is
more to be marvelled at) the defence of this so dainty and

208 SIR THOMAS MORE

delicate an opinion they fetch even from their grave, sharp,
bitter, and rigorous religion. For they never dispule of
felicity or blessedness, but they join to the reasons of phil
osophy certain principles taken out of religion: without the
which to the investigation of true felicity they think reason
of itself weak and imperfect. Those principles be these and
such like: That the soul is immortal, and by the bountiful
goodness of God ordained to felicity. That to our virtues
and good deeds rewards be appointed after this life, and to
our evil deeds punishments. Though these be pertaining
to religion, yet they think it meet that they should be be
lieved and granted by proofs of reason. But if these prin
ciples were condemned and disannulled, then without any
delay they pronounce no man to be so foolish, which would
not do all his diligence and endeavour to obtain pleasure
by right or wrong, only avoiding this inconvenience, that
the less pleasure should not be a let or hindrance to the
bigger : or that he laboured not for that pleasure, which
would bring after it displeasure, grief, and sorrow. For
they judge it extreme madness to follow sharp and painful
virtue, and not only to banish the pleasure of life, but also
willingly to suffer grief without any hope of profit thereof.
For what profit can there be, if a man, when he hath passed
over all his life unpleasantly, that is to say, wretchedly,
shall have no reward after his death? But now, sir,
they think not felicity to rest in all pleasure, but only
in that pleasure that is good and honest, and that hereto,
as to perfect blessedness our nature is allured and drawn
even of virtue, whereto only they that be of the contrary
opinion do attribute felicity. For they define virtue to be
a life ordered according to nature, and that we be here
unto ordained of God. And that he doth follow the course
of nature, which in desiring and refusing things is ruled
by reason. Furthermore that reason doth chiefly and prin
cipally kindle in men the love and veneration of the di
vine majesty. Of whose goodness it is that we be, and
that we be in possibility to attain felicity. And that secondly
it moveth and provoketh us to lead our life out of care
in joy and mirth, and to help all other in respect of the
society of nature to obtain the same. For there was never

UTOPIA 209

man so earnest and painful a follower of virtue and hater of
pleasure, that would so enjoin you labours, watchings and
fastings, but he would also exhort you to ease and lighten,
to your power, the lack and misery of others, praising the
same as a deed of humanity and pity. Then if it be a point
of humanity for man to bring health and comfort to man,
and specially (which is a virtue most peculiarly belonging
to man) to mitigate and assuage the grief of others, and
by taking from them the sorrow and heaviness of life, to
restore them to joy, that is to say, to pleasure: why may it
not then be said, that nature doth provoke every man to do
the same to himself? For a joyful life, that is to say, a
pleasant life, is either evil, and if it be so, then thou should-
est not only help no man thereto, but rather, as much as
in thee lieth, help all men from it, as noisome and hurt
ful, or else if thou not only mayst, but also of duty
art bound to procure it to others, why not chiefly to thy
self, to whom thou art bound to show as much fa
vour as to other? For when nature biddeth thee to be
good and gentle to other she commandeth thee not to
be cruel and ungentle to thyself. Therefore even very
nature (say they) prescribeth to us a joyful life, that is
to say, pleasure as the end of all our operations. And they
define virtue to be life ordered according to the prescript
of nature. But in that that nature doth allure and provoke
men one to help another to live merrily (which surely she
doth not without a good cause, for no man is so far above
the lot of man's state or condition, that nature doth cark
and care for him only, which equally favoureth all that be
comprehended under the communion of one shape, form and
fashion) verily she commandeth thee to use diligent circum
spection, that thou do not so seek for thine own commodities,
that thou procure others incommodities. Wherefore their
opinion is, that not only covenants and bargains made
among private men ought to be well and faithfully fulfilled,
observed, and kept, but also common laws, which either a
good prince hath justly published, or else the people neither
oppressed with tyranny, neither deceived by fraud and guile,
hath by their common consent constituted and ratified, con
cerning the partition of the commodities of life, that is to

210 SIR THOMAS MORE

say, the matter of pleasure. These laws not offended, it is
wisdom, that thou look to thine own wealth. And to do
the same for the commonwealth is no less than thy duty,
if thou bearest any reverent love or any natural zeal and
affection to thy native country. But to go about to let an
other man of his pleasure, whilst thou procurest thine own,
that is open wrong. Contrariwise to withdraw something
from thyself to give to other, that is a point of humanity
and gentleness; which never taketh away so much commod
ity, as it bringeth again. For it is recompensed with the
return of benefits; and the conscience of the good deed,
with the remembrance of the thankful love and benevolence
of them to whom thou hast done it, doth bring more pleasure
to thy mind, than that which thou hast withholden from
thyself could have brought to thy body. Finally (which to
a godly disposed and a religious mind is easy to be per
suaded) God recompenseth the gift of a short and small
pleasure with great and everlasting joy. Therefore the
matter diligently weighed and considered, thus they think,
that all our actions, and in them the virtues themselves,
be referred at the last to pleasure, as their end and felicity.
Pleasure they call every motion and state of the body or
mind wherein man hath naturally delectation. Appetite they
join to nature, and that not without a good cause. For
like as, not only the senses, but also right reason coveteth
whatsoever is naturally pleasant, so that it may be gotten
without wrong or injury, not letting or debarring a greater
pleasure, nor causing painful labour, even so those things
that men by vain imagination do feign against nature to be
pleasant (as though it lay in their power to change the things,
as they do the names of things) all such pleasures they
believe to be of so small help and furtherance to felicity,
that they count them great let and hindrance. Because
that in whom they have once taken place, all his mind
they possess with a false opinion of pleasure. So that
there is no place left for true and natural delectations. For
there be many things, which of their own nature contain
no pleasantness : yea the most part of them much grief and
sorrow. And yet through the perverse and malicious flicker
ing enticements of lewd and unhonest desires, be taken not

UTOPIA 211

only for special and sovereign pleasures, but also be counted
among the chief causes of life. In this counterfeit kind of
pleasure they put them that I spake of before; which the
better gown they have on, the better men they think them
selves. In the which thing they do twice err. For they be
no less deceived in that they think their gown the better, than
they be, in that they think themselves the better. For if
you consider the profitable use of the garment, why should
wool of a finer spun thread be thought better, than the wool
of a coarse spun thread? Yet they, as though the one did
pass the other by nature, and not by their mistaking, advance
themselves, and think the price of their ov/n persons thereby
greatly increased. And therefore the honour, which in a
coarse gown they durst not have looked for, they require,
as it were of duty, for their finer gown's sake. And if they
be passed by without reverence, they take it angrily and
disdainfully. And again is it not a like madness to take
a pride in vain and unprofitable honours? For what natural
or true pleasure dost thou take of another man's bare head,
or bowed knees? Will this ease the pain of thy knees, or
remedy the frenzy of thy head? In this image of counterfeit
pleasure, they be of a marvellous madness, which for the
opinion of nobility, rejoice much in their own conceit.
Because it was their fortune to come of such ancestors,
whose stock of long time hath been counted rich (for now
nobility is nothing else) specially rich in lands. And though
their ancestors left them not one foot of land, yet they think
themselves not the less noble therefore of one hair. In
this number also they count them that take pleasure and
delight (as I said) in gems and precious stones, and think
themselves almost gods, if they chance to get an excellent
one, specially of that kind, which in that time of their own
countrymen is had in highest estimation. For one kind of
stone keepeth not his price still in all countries and at all
times. Nor they buy them not, but taken out of the gold
and bare : no, nor so neither, before they have made the seller
to swear, that he will warrant and assure it to be a true
stone, and no counterfeit gem. Such care they take lest a
counterfeit stone should deceive their eyes instead of a right
stone. But why shouldst thou not take even as much

212 SIR THOMAS MORE

pleasure in beholding a counterfeit stone, which thine eye
cannot discern from a right stone? They should both be
of like value to thee, even as to a blind man. What shall
I say of them, that keep superfluous riches, to take delecta
tion only in the beholding, and not in the use or occupying
thereof? Do they take true pleasure, or else be they deceived
with false pleasure ? Or of them that be in a contrary vice,
hiding the gold which they shall never occupy, nor perad-
venture never see more; and whiles they take care lest
they shall lose it, do lose it indeed? For what is it else,
when they hide it in the ground, taking it both from their
own use, and perchance from all other men's also? And
yet thou, when thou hast hid thy treasure, as one out of all
care, hoppest for joy. The which treasure, if it should
chance to be stolen, and thou ignorant of the theft shouldst
die ten years after : all that ten years' space that thou livedst
after thy money was stolen, what matter was it to thee,
whether it had been taken away or else safe as thou leftest
it? Truly both ways like profit came to thee. To these so
foolish pleasures they join dicers, whose madness they know
by hearsay and not by use. Hunters also, and hawkers.
For what pleasure is there (say they) in casting the dice
upon a table ; which thou hast done so often, that if there
were any pleasure in it, yet the oft use might make thee
weary thereof? Or what delight can there be, and not rather
displeasure in hearing the barking and howling of dogs ? Or
what greater pleasure is there to be felt when a dog followet'h
an hare, than when a dog followeth a dog? for one thing
is done in both, that is to say, running, if thou hast pleasure
therein. But if the hope of slaughter and the expectation
of tearing in pieces the beast doth please thee: thou shouldest
rather be moved with pity to see a silly innocent hare
murdered of a dog, the weak of the stronger, the fearful
of the fierce, the innocent of the cruel and unmerciful.
Therefore all this exercise of hunting, as a thing unworthy
to be used of free men, the Utopians have rejected to their
butchers, to the which craft (as we said before) they appoint
their bondmen. For they count hunting the lowest, the vilest,
and most abject part of butchery, and the other parts of it
more profitable and more honest, as which do bring much

UTOPIA 213

more commodity, and do kill beasts only for necessity.
Whereas the hunter seeketh nothing but pleasure of the silly
and woful beasts' slaughter and murder. The which pleas
ure, in beholding death, they think cloth rise in the very
beasts, either of a cruel affection of mind, or else to be
changed in continuance of time into cruelty, by long use of
so cruel a pleasure. These therefore and all such like,
which be innumerable, though the common sort of people
doth take them for pleasures, yet they, seeing there is no
natural pleasantness in them, do plainly determine them to
have no affinity with true and right pleasure. For as touch
ing that they do commonly move the sense with delectation
(which secmeth to be a work of pleasure) this doth nothing
diminish their opinion. For not the nature of the thing,
but their perverse and lewd custom is the cause hereof,
which causeth them to accept bitter or sour tilings for
sweet things. Even as women with child in their viciated
and corrupt taste, think pitch and tallow sweeter than
any honey. Hnwbeit no man's judgment depraved and
corrupt, either bv sickness, or by custom, can change the
nature of pleasure, more than it can do the nature of other
things.

They make clivers kinds of true pleasures. For some they
attribute to the soul, and some to the body. To the soul they
give intelligence and that delectation that cometh of the
contemplation of truth. Hereunto is joined the pleasant
remembrance of the good life past. The pleasure of the
body they divide into two parts. The first is when delectation
is sensibly felt and perceived. The second part of bodily
pleasure, they say, is that which consisteth and resteth in
the quiet and upright state of the body. And that truly is
every man's own proper health, intermingled and disturbed
with no grief. For this, if it be not let nor assaulted with
no grief, is delectable of itself, though it be moved with no
external or outward pleasure. For though it be not so plain
and manifest to the sense, as the greedy lust of eating and
drinking, yet nevertheless many take it for the chiefest
pleasure. All the Utopians grant it to be a right great
pleasure, and as you would say, the foundation and ground
of all pleasures, as which even alone is able to make the

214 SIR THOMAS MORE

state and condition of life delectable and pleasant. And it
being once taken away, there is no place left for any
pleasure. For to be without grief not having health, that
they call insensibility, and not pleasure. The Utopians have
long ago rejected and condemned the opinion of them which
said that steadfast and quiet health (for this question also
hath been diligently debated among them) ought not there
fore to be counted a pleasure, because they say it cannot be
presently and sensibly perceived and felt by some outward
motion. But of the contrary part now they agree almost
all in this, that health is a most sovereign pleasure. For
seeing that in sickness (say they) is grief, which is a mortal
enemy to pleasure, even as sickness is to health, why should
not then pleasure be in the quietness of health? For they
say it maketh nothing to this matter, whether you say that
sickness is a grief, or that in sickness is grief, for all cometh
to one purpose. For whether health be a pleasure itself, or a
necessary cause of pleasure, as fire is of heat, truly both
ways it followeth that they cannot be without pleasure that
be in perfect health. Furthermore whilest we eat (say they)
then health, which began to be impaired, fighteth by the
help of food against hunger. In the which fight, whilest
health by little and little getteth the upper hand, that same
proceeding, and (as ye would say) that onwardness to the
wonted strength ministreth that pleasure, whereby we be so
refreshed. Health therefore, which in the conflict is joyful,
shall it not be merry, when it hath gotten the victory? But
as soon as it hath recovered the pristinate strength, which
thing only in all the fight it coveted, shall it incontinent be
astonished ? Nor shall it not know nor embrace the own
wealth and goodness? For that it is said, health cannot
be felt : this, they think, is nothing true. For what man
waking, say they, feeleth not himself in health, but he that
is not? Is there any man so possessed with stonish insen
sibility, or with the sleeping sickness, that he will not
grant health to be acceptable to him, and delectable? But
what other thing is delectation, than that which by another
name is called pleasure ? They embrace chiefly the pleasures
of the mind. For them they count the chiefest and most
principal of all. The chief part of them they think

UTOPIA 215

doth come of the exercise of virtue, and conscience of
good life. Of these pleasures that the body ministreth,
they give the pre-eminence to health. For the delight of
eating and drinking, and whatsoever hath any like pleasant
ness, they determine to be pleasures much to be desired, but
no other ways than for health's sake. For such things of
their own proper nature be not pleasant, but in that they
resist sickness privily stealing on. Therefore like as it is a
wise man's part, rather to avoid sickness, than to wish for
medicines, and rather to drive away and put to flight careful
griefs, than to call for comfort: so it is much better not to
need this kind of pleasure, than in curing the contrary grief
to be eased of the same. The which kind of pleasure,
if any man take for his felicity, that man must needs grant,
that then he shall be in most felicity, if he live that life,
which is led in continual hunger, thirst, itching, eating,
drinking, scratching and rubbing. The which life how not
only foul it is, but also miserable and wretched who per-
ceiveth not? These doubtless be the basest pleasures of all,
as impure and imperfect. For they never come, but ac
companied with their contrary griefs. As with the pleas
ure of eating is joined hunger, and that after no very
equal sort. For of these two the grief is both the more
vehement, and also of longer continuance. For it riseth
before the pleasure, and encleth not until the pleasure die
with it. Wherefore such pleasures they think not greatly
to be set by, but in that they be necessary. Howbeit they
have delight also in these, and thankfully acknowledge the
tender love of mother nature, which with most pleasant
delectation allureth her children to that, which of necessity
they be driven often to use. For how wretched and miserable
should our life be, if these daily griefs of hunger and thirst
could not be driven away, but with bitter potions and sour
medicines, as the other diseases be, wherewith we be sel-
domer troubled? But beauty, strength, nimbleness, these as
peculiar and pleasant gifts of nature they make much of.
But those pleasures which be received by the ears, the eyes
and the nose, which nature willeth to be proper and peculiar
to man (for no other kind of living beasts doth behold the
fairness and the beauty of the world, or is moved with any

216 SIR THOMAS MORE

respect of savours, but only for the diversity of meats,
neither perceiveth the concordant and discordant distances
of sounds and tunes) these pleasures, I say, they accept and
allow as certain pleasant rejoicings of life. But in all things
this precaution they use, that a less pleasure hinder not a
bigger, and that the pleasure be no cause of displeasure,
which they think to follow of necessity, if the pleasure
be unhonest. But yet to despise the comeliness of beauty,
to waste the bodily strength, to turn nimbleness into slug
gishness, to consume and make feeble the body with fasting,
to do injury to health, and to reject the other pleasant
motions of nature unless a man neglect these his com
modities, whilest he doth with a fervent zeal procure the
wealth of others, or the common profit, for the which
pleasure forborn, he is in hope of a greater pleasure at God's
hand; else for a vain shadow of virtue, for the wealth and
profit of no man, to punish himself, or to the intent he may
be able courageously to suffer adversities, which perchance
shall never come to him; this to do they think it a point of
extreme madness, and a token of a man cruelly minded
towards himself, and unkind toward nature, as one so dis
daining to be in her danger, that he renounceth and refuseth
all her benefits.

This is their sentence and opinion of virtue and pleasure.
And they believe that by man's reason none can be found
truer than this, unless any godlier be inspired into man from
heaven. Wherein whether they believe well or no, neither
the time doth suffer us to discuss, neither it is now necessary.
For we have taken upon us to show and declare their lores
and ordinances, and not to defend them. But this thing
I believe verily, howsoever these decrees be, that there is
in no place of the world, neither a more excellent people,
neither a more flourishing commonwealth. They be light
and quick of body, full of activity and nimbleness, and of
more strength than a man would judge them by their
stature, which for all that is not too low. And though their
soil be not very fruitful, nor their air very wholesome, yet
against the air they so defend them with temperate diet,
and so order and husband their ground with diligent travail,
that in no country is greater increase, and plenty of corn

UTOPIA 217

and cattle, nor men's bodies of longer life, and subject or
apt to fewer diseases. There therefore a man may see well
and diligently exploited and furnished, not only those things
which husbandmen do commonly in other countries, as by
craft and cunning to remedy the barrenness of the ground;
but also a whole wood by the hands of the people plucked up
by the roots in one place, and set again in another place.
Wherein was had regard and consideration, net of plenty
but of commodious carriage, that wood and timber might
be nigher to the sea. or the rivers or the cities. For it is
less labour and business to carry grain far by land, than
wood. The people be gentle, merry, quick, and fine witted,
delighting in quietness, and when need requireth, able to
abide and suffer much bodily labour. Else they be not
greatly desirous and fond of it; but in the exercise and study
of the mind they be never weary. When they had heard
me speak of the Greek literature or learning (for in Latin
there was nothing that I thought they would greatly allow,
besides historians and poets) they made wonderful earnest
and importunate suit unto me that I would teach and in
struct them in that tongue and learning. I began therefore
to read unto them, at the first truly more because I would
not seem to refuse the labour, than that I hoped that they
would anything profit therein. But when I had gone for
ward a little, and perceived incontinent by their diligence,
that my labour should not be bestowed in vain ; for they
began so easily to fashion their letters, so plainly to pro
nounce the words, so quickly to learn by heart, and so surely
to rehearse the same, that I marvelled at it, saving that the
most part of them were fine and chosen wits and of ripe age,
picked out of the company of the learned men, which not only
of their own free and voluntary will, but also by the
commandment of the council, undertook to learn this lan
guage. Therefore in less than three years' space there was
nothing in the Greek tongue that they lacked. They were
able to read good authors without any stay, if the book were
not false. This kind of learning, as I suppose, they took
so much the sooner, because it is somewhat allied to them.
For I think that this nation took their beginning of the
Greeks, because their speech, which in all other points is

218 SIR THOMAS MORE

not much unlike the Persian tongue, keepeth divers signs
and tokens of the Greek language in the names of their
cities and of their magistrates. They have of me (for when
I was determined to enter into my fourth voyage, I cast
into the ship in the stead of merchandise a pretty fardel of
books, because I intended to come again rather never, than
shortly) the most part of Plato's works, more of Aristotle's,
also Theophrastus of plants, but in divers places (which I
am sorry for) imperfect. For whilst we were sailing, a
marmoset chanced upon the book, as it was negligently laid
by, which wantonly playing therewith plucked out certain
leaves, and tore them in pieces. Of them that have written
the grammar, they have only Lascaris. For Theodorus I
carried not with me, nor never a dictionary but Hesychius,
and Dioscorides. They set great store by Plutarch's books.
And they be delighted with Lucian's merry conceits and
jests. Of the poets they have Aristophanes, Homer, Euri
pides, and Sophocles in Aldus' small print. Of the historians
they have Thucydides, Herodotus, and Herodian. Also my
companion, Tricius Apinatus, carried with him physic books,
certain small works of Hippocrates and Galen's Microtechne.
The which book they have in great estimation. For though
there be almost no nation under heaven that hath less need
of physic than they, yet this notwithstanding, physic is no
where in greater honour ; because they count the knowledge
of it among the goodliest and most profitable parts of
philosophy. For whitest they by the help of this philosophy
search out the secret mysteries of nature, they think that
they not only receive thereby wonderful great pleasure, but
also obtain great thanks and favour of the author and maker
thereof. Whom they think, according to the fashion
of other artificers, to have set forth the marvellous and
gorgeous frame of the world for man to behold. Whom
only he hath made of wit and capacity to consider and un
derstand the excellence of so great a work. And therefore
(say they) doth he bear more goodwill and love to the
curious and diligent beholder and viewer of his work and
marveller at the same, than he doth to him, which like a very
beast without wit and reason, or as one without sense or
moving, hath no regard to so great and so wonderful a

UTOPIA 219

spectacle. The wits therefore of the Utopians, inured and
exercised in learning, be marvellous quick in the invention
of feats helping anything to the advantage and wealth of
life. Howbeit two feats they may thank us for. That is, the
science of imprinting, and the craft of making paper. And
yet not only us but chiefly and principally themselves.

For when we showed to them Aldus his print in books of
paper, and told them of the stuff whereof paper is made,
and of the feat of graving letters, speaking somewhat more,
than we could plainly declare (for there was none of us,
that knew perfectly either the one or the other) they forth
with very wittily conjectured the thing. And whereas
before they wrote only in skins, in barks of trees, and in
reeds, now they have attempted to make paper, and to im
print letters. And though at the first it proved not all
of the best, yet by often assaying the same they shortly
got the feat of both. And have so brought the matter about
that if they had copies of Greek authors, they could lack no
books. But now they have no more than I rehearsed before,
saving that by printing of books they have multiplied and in
creased the same into many thousands of copies. Whosoever
cometh thither to see the land, being excellent in any gift of
wit, or through much and long journeying well experienced
and seen in the knowledge of many countries (for the which
cause we were very welcome to them) him they receive
and entertain wonders gently and lovingly. For they have
delight to hear what is dune in every land, howbeit very few
merchantmen come thither, for what should they bring
thither, unless it were iron, or else gold and silver, which
they had rather carry home again? Also such things as are
to be carried out of their land, they think it more wisdom to
carry that gear forth themselves, than that others should
come thither to fetch it, to the intent they may the better
know the outlands on every side of them, and keep in use
the feat and knowledge of sailing.

Of Bondmen, Sick Persons, Wedlock, and divers other

matters

They neither make bondmen of prisoners taken in battle,
unless it be in battle that they fought themselves, nor of

220 SIR THOMAS MORE

bondmen's children, nor to be short, any man whom they can
get out of another country, though he were there a bond
man. But either such as among themselves for heinous
offences be punished with bondage, or else such as in the
cities of other lands for great trespasses be condemned to
death. And of this sort of bondmen they have most store.
For many of them they bring home sometimes paying
very little for them, yea most commonly getting them
gratis. These sorts of bondmen they keep not only in con
tinual work and labour, but also in bands. But their own
men they handle hardest, whom they judge more desperate,
and to have deserved greater punishment, because they being
so godly brought up to virtue in so excellent a common
wealth, could not for all that be refrained from misdoing.
Another kind of bondmen they have, when a vile drudge
being a poor labourer in another country doth choose of his
own free will to be a bondman among them. These they
handle and order honestly, and entertain almost as gently
as their own free citizens, saving that they put them to a
little more labour, as thereto accustomed. If any such be dis
posed to depart thence (which seldom is seen) they neither
hold him against his will, neither send him away with empty
hands. The sick (as I said) they see to with great affection,
and let nothing at all pass concerning either physic or good
diet whereby they may be restored again to their health.
Them that be sick of incurable diseases they comfort with
sitting by them, with talking with them, and to be short,
with all manner of helps that may be. But if the disease
be not only incurable, but also full of continual pain and
anguish ; then the priests and the magistrates exhort the
man, seeing he is not able to do any duty of life, and by
overliving his own death is noisome and irksome to other,
and grievous to himself, that he will determine with himself
no longer to cherish that pestilent and painful disease. And
seeing his life is to him but a torment, that he will not be
unwilling to die, but rather take a good hope to him, and
either despatch himself out of that painful life, as out of
a prison, or a rack of torment, or else suffer himself willingly
to be rid out of it by other. And in so doing they tell him
he shall do wisely, seeing by his death he shall lose no

UTOPIA 221

commodity, but end his pain. And because in that act he
shall follow the counsel of the priests, that is to say, cf the
interpreters of God's will and pleasure, they show him
that he shall do like a godly and a virtuous man. They that
be thus persuaded, finish their lives willingly, either with
hunger, or else die in their sleep without any feeling of
death. But they cause none such to die against his will,
nor they use no less diligence and attendance about him,
believing this to be an honourable death. Else he that
killeth himself before that the priests and the council have
allowed the cause of his death, him as unworthy both of the
earth and of fire, they cast unburied into some stinking
marsh. The woman is not married before she be eighteen
years old. The man is four years older before he marry.

If either the man or the woman be proved to have bodily
offended before their marriage with another, he or she
whether it be is sharply punished. And both the offenders
be forbidden ever after in all their life to marry: unless the
fault be forgiven by the prince's pardon. But both the good-
man and the goodwife of the house where that offence was
done, as being slack and negligent in looking to their charge,
be in danger of great reproach and infamy. That offence is
so sharply punished, because they perceive, that unless they be
diligently kept from the liberty of this vice, few will join to
gether in the love of marriage, wherein all the life must be
led with one, and also all the griefs and displeasures that
come therewith must patiently be taken and borne. Further
more in choosing wives and husbands they observe earnestly
and straitly a custom, which seemed to us very fond and
foolish. For a sad and an honest matron showeth the
woman, be she maid or widow, naked to the wooer. And
likewise a sage and discreet man exhibiteth the wooer naked
to the woman. At this custom we laughed and disallowed it
as foolish. But they on the other part do greatly wonder at
the folly of all other nations, which in buying a colt, whereas
a little money is in hazard, be so chary and circumspect, that
though he be almost all bare, yet they will not buy him, un
less the saddle and all the harness be taken off, lest under
those coverings be hid some gall or sore. And yet in choos
ing a wife, which shall be either pleasure, or displeasure to

222 SIR THOMAS MORE

them all their life after, they be so reckless, that all the
residue of the woman's body being covered with clothes,
they esteem her scarcely by one hand-breadth (for they can
see no more but her face), and so do join her to them not
without great jeopardy of evil agreeing together, if any
thing in her body afterward do offend and mislike them.

For all men be not so wise, as to have respect to the vir
tuous conditions of the party. And the endowments of the
body cause the virtues of the mind more to be esteemed and
regarded : yea even in the marriages of wise men. Verily
so foul deformity may be hid under those coverings, that
it may quite alienate and take away the man's mind from
his wife, when it shall not be lawful for their bodies to be
separate again. If such deformity happen by any chance
after the marriage is consummate and finished, well, there
is no remedy but patience. Every man must take his for
tune, well-a-worth. But it were well done that a law were
made whereby all such deceits might be eschewed and
avoided beforehand.

And this were they constrained more earnestly to look
upon, because they only of the nations in that part of the
world be content every man with one wife apiece.

And matrimony is there never broken, but by death ;
except adultery break the bond, or else the intolerable way
ward manners of either party. For if either of them find
themselves for any such cause grieved, they may by the
licence of the council change and take another. But the
other party liveth ever after in infamy and out of wedlock.
But for the husband to put way his wife for no fault,
but for that some mishap is fallen to her body, this by no
means they will suffer. For they judge it a great point of
cruelty, that anybody in their most need of help and comfort
should be cast off and forsaken, and that old age, which both
bringeth sickness with it, and is a sickness itself, should un
kindly and unfaithfully be dealt withal. But now and then
it chanceth, whereas the man and the woman cannot well
agree between themselves, both of them finding other, with
whom they hope to live more quietly and merrily, that
they by the full consent of them both be divorced asun
der and new married to other. But that not without the

UTOPIA 223

authority of the council ; which agreeth to no divorces,
before they and their wives have diligently tried and ex
amined the matter. Yea and then also they be loath to
consent to it, because they know this to be the next way to
break love between man and wife, to be in easy hope of a
new marriage. Breakers of wedlock be punished with most
grievous bondage. And if both the offenders were married,
then the parties which in that behalf have suffered wrong,
be divorced from the adulterers, if they will, and be married
together, or else to whom they list. But if either of them
both do still continue in love toward so unkind a bedfellow,
the use of wedlock is not to them forbidden, if the party
be disposed to follow in toiling and drudgery the person
which for that offence is condemned to bondage. And very
oft it chanceth that the repentance of the one, and the
earnest diligence of the other, doth so move the prince with
pity and compassion, that he restoreth the bond person from
servitude to liberty and freedom again. But if the same
party be taken again in that fault there is no other
way but death. To other trespassers there is no prescript
punishment appointed by any law. But according to the
heinousness of the offence, or contrary, so the punishment
is moderated by the discretion of the council. The husbands
chastise their wives, and the parents their children, unless
they have done any so horrible an offence, that the open
punishment thereof maketh much for the advancement of
honest manners. But most commonly the most heinous
faults be punished with the incommodity of bondage. For
that they suppose to be to the offenders no less grief, and
to the commonwealth more profitable, than if they should
hastily put them to death, and make them out of the way.
For there cometh more profit of their labour, than of their
death, and by their example they fear other the longer
from like offences. But if they being thus used, do rebel and
kick again, then forsooth they be slain as desperate and wild
beasts, whom neither prison nor chain could restrain and
keep under. But they which take their bondage patiently
be not left all hopeless. For after they have been broken
and tamed with long miseries, if then they show such
repentance, whereby it may be perceived that they be sor-

224 SIR THOMAS MORE

rier for their offence than for their punishment, sometimes
by the prince's prerogative, and sometimes by the voice and
consent of the people, their bondage either is mitigated, or
else clean remitted and forgiven. He that moveth to adul
tery is in no less danger and jeopardy than if he had com
mitted adultery indeed. For in all offences they count the
intent and pretensed purpose as evil as the act or deed icself,
for they think that no let ought to excuse him that did his
best to have no let. They set great store by fools. And
as it is great reproach to do to any of them hurt or
injury, so they prohibit not to take pleasure of foolish
ness. For that, they think, doth much good to the fools.
And if any man be so sad and stern, that he cannot laugh
neither at their words, nor at their deeds, none of them
be committed to his tuition ; for fear lest he would not order
them gently and favourably enough, to whom they should
bring no delectation (for other goodness in them is none)
much less any profit should they yield him. To mock a
man for his deformity, or for that he lacketh any part or
limb of his body, is counted great dishonesty and reproach,
not to him that is mocked, but to him that mocketh. Which
unwisely doth upbraid any man of that as a vice which was
not in his power to eschew. Also as they count and reckon
very little wit to be in him, that regardeth not natural beauty
and comeliness, so to help the same with paintings, is taken
for a vain and a wanton pride, not without great infamy.
For they know, even by very experience, that no comeliness
of beauty doth so highly commend and advance the wives
in the conceit of their husbands, as honest conditions and
lowliness. For as love is oftentimes won with beauty, so
it is not kept, preserved and continued, but by virtue and
obedience. They do not only fear their people from doing
evil by punishments, but also allure them to virtue with
rewards of honour. Therefore they set up in the market
place the images of notable men, and of such as have been
great and bountiful benefactors to the commonwealth, for the
perpetual memory of their good acts, and also that the glory
and renown of the ancestors may stir and provoke their
posterity to virtue. He that inordinately and ambitiously
desireth promotions is left all hopeless for ever attaining

UTOPIA 225

any promotion as long as he liveth. They live together
lovingly. For no magistrate is either haughty or fearful.
Fathers they be called, and like fathers they use themselves.
The citizens (as it is their duty) do willingly exhibit unto
them due honour without any compulsion. Xor the prince
himself is not known from the other by his apparel, nor by a
crown or diadem, or cap of maintenance, but by a little sheaf
of corn carried before him. And so a taper of wax is borne
before the bishop, whereby only he is known. They have but
few laws. For to people so instruct and institute very few
do suffice. Yea this thing they chiefly reprove among other
nations, that innumerable books of laws and expositions upon
the same be not sufficient. But they think it against all
right and justice that men should be bound to those laws,
which either be in number more than be able to be read, or
else blinder and darker, than that any man can well under
stand them. Furthermore they utterly exclude and banish all
proctors, and sergeants at the law; which craftily handle
matters, and subtly dispute of the laws. For they think it
most meet, that every man should plead his own matter, and
tell the same tale before the judge that he would tell to his
man of law. So shall there be less circumstance of words,
and the truth shall sooner come to light, whiles the judge
with a discreet judgment doth weigh the words of him whom
no lawyer hath instruct with deceit, and whiles he helpeth
and beareth out simple wits against the false and malicious
circumventions of crafty children. This is hard to be ob
served in other countries, in so infinite a number of blind
and intricate laws. But in Utopia every man is a cunning
lawyer. For (as I said) they have very few laws; and the
plainer and grosser that any interpretation is, that they allow
as most just. For all laws (say they) be made and pub
lished only to the intent that by them every man should be
put in remembrance of his duty. But the crafty and subtle
interpretation of them can put very- few in that remembrance
(for they be but few that do perceive them), whereas the
simple, the plain and gross meaning of the laws is open to
every man.

Else as touching the vulgar sort of the people, which be
both most in number, and have most need to know their duties,
HC xxxvi (H)

226 SIR THOMAS MORE

were it not as good for them, that no law were made at all,
as when it is made, to bring so blind an interpretation upon
it, that without great wit and long arguing no man can
discuss it? To the finding out whereof neither the gross
judgment of the people can attain, neither the whole life of
them that be occupied in working for their livings can
suffice thereto. These virtues of the Utopians have caused
their next neighbours and borderers, which live free and
under no subjection (for the Utopians long ago, have de
livered many of them from tyranny) to take magistrates of
them, some for a year, and some for five years' space.
Which when the time of their office is expired, they bring
home again with honour and praise, and take new ones again
with them into their country. These nations have undoubt
edly very well and wholesomely provided for their common
wealths. For seeing that both the making and the marring of
the weal public doth depend and hang upon the manners
of the rulers and magistrates, what officers could they more
wisely have chosen, than those which cannot be led from
honesty by bribes (for to them that shortly after shall depart
thence into their own country money should be unprofitable)
nor yet be moved either with favour, or malice towards any
man, as being strangers, and unacquainted with the people?
The which two vices of affection and avarice, where they
take place in judgments, incontinent they break justice, the
strongest and surest bond of a commonwealth. These peo
ples which fetch their officers and rulers from them, the
Utopians call their fellows. And other to whom thy have
been beneficial, they call their friends. As touching leagues,
which in other places between country and country be so oft
concluded, broken and made again, they never make none
with any nation. For to what purpose serve leagues? say
they. As though nature had not set sufficient love between
man and man. And who so regardeth not nature, think you
that he will pass for words? They be brought into this
opinion chiefly, because that in those parts of the world,
leagues between princes be wont to be kept and observed
very slenderly. For here in Europe, and especially in these
parts where the faith and religion of Christ reigneth, the
majesty of leagues is everywhere esteemed holy and in-

UTOPIA 227

violable, partly through the justice and goodness of princes,
and partly through the reverence of great bishops. Which
like as they make no promise themselves but they do
very religiously perform the same, so they exhort all princes
in any wise to abide by their promises, and them that re
fuse or deny so to do, by their pontifical power and au
thority they compel thereto. And surely they think well
that it might seem a very reproachful thing, if in the leagues
of them which by a peculiar name be called faithful, faith
should have no place. But in that new found part of the
world, which is scarcely so far from us beyond the line
equinoctial as our life and manners be dissident from theirs,
no trust nor confidence is in leagues. But the more and
holier ceremonies the league is knit up with, the sooner it is
broken by some cavillation found in the words, which many
times of purpose be so craftily put in and placed, that the
bands can never be so sure nor so strong, but they will find
some hole open to creep out at, and to break both league and
truth. The which crafty dealing, yea the which fraud and
deceit, if they should know it to be practised among private
men in their bargains and contracts, they would incontinent
cry out at it with a sour countenance, as an offence most
detestable, and worthy to be punished with a shameful
death : yea even very they that advance themselves authors
of like council given to princes. Wherefore it may well
be thought, either that all justice is but a base and a
low virtue, and which abaseth itself far under the high
dignity of kings ; or at the leastwise, that there be two
justices, the one meet for the inferior sort of the people,
going afoot and creeping below on the ground, and bound
down on every side with many bands because it shall not
run at rovers ; the other a princely virtue, which like as it
is of much higher majesty than the other poor justice, so also
it is of much more liberty, as to the which nothing is unlawful
that it lusteth after. These manners of princes (as I said)
which be there so evil keepers of leagues, cause the Utopians,
as I suppose, to make no leagues at all, which perchance
would change their mind if they lived here. Howbeit they
think that though leagues be never so faithfully observed
and kept, yet the custom of making leagues was very evil

228 SIR THOMAS MORE

begun. For this causeth men (as though nations which be
separate asunder, by the space of a little hill or a river,
were coupled together by no society or bond of nature) to
think themselves born adversaries and enemies one to an
other, and that it is lawful for the one to seek the death
and destruction of the other, if leagues were not: yea, and
that after the leagues be accorded, friendship doth not grow
and increase; but the licence of robbing and stealing doth still
remain, as farforth as for lack of foresight and advisement
in writing the words of the league, any sentence or clause to
the contrary is not therein sufficiently comprehended. But
they be of a contrary opinion. That is, that no man ought
to be counted an enemy, which hath done no injury. And
that the fellowship of nature is a strong league; and that
men be better and more surely knit together by love and
benevolence, than by covenants of leagues; by hearty af
fection of mind, than by words.

Of Warfare

War or battle as a thing very beastly, and yet to no kind
of beasts in so much use as it is to man, they do detest and
abhor. And contrary to the custom almost of all other
nations, they count nothing so much against glory, as glory
gotten in war. And therefore though they do daily practise
and exercise themselves in the discipline of war, and that not
only the men, but also the women upon certain appointed
days, lest they should be to seek in the feat of arms, if need
should require, yet they never [to] go to battle, but either in
the defence of their own country, or to drive out of their
friends' land the enemies that have invaded it, or by their
power to deliver from the yoke and bondage of tyranny
some people, that be oppressed with tyranny. Which
thing they do of mere pity and compassion. Howbeit they
send help to their friends; not ever in their defence, but some
times also to requite and revenge injuries before to them done.
But this they do not unless their counsel and advice in the
matter be asked, whilest it is yet new and fresh. For if
they find the cause probable, and if the contrary part will
not restore again such things as be of them justly demanded,

UTOPIA 223

then they be the chief authors and makers of the war.
Which they do not only as oft as by inroads and invasions
of soldiers, preys and booties be driven away, but then also
much more mortally, when their friends' merchants in any
land, either under the pretence of unjust laws, or else by the
wresting and wrong understanding of good laws, do sustain
an unjust accusation under the colour of justice. Neither
the battle which the Utopians fought for the Nephelogetes
against the Alaopolitanes a little before our time was made for
any other cause, but that the Nephelogete merchantmen, as
the Utopians thought, suffered wrong of the Alaopolitanes,
under the pretence of right. But whether it were right or
wrong, it was with so cruel and mortal war revenged, the
countries round about joining their help and power to the
puissance and malice of both parties, that most flourishing
and wealthy peoples, being some of them shrewdly shaken,
and some of them sharply beaten, the mischiefs were not
finished nor ended, until the Alaopolitanes at the last were
yielded up as bondmen into the jurisdiction of the Nephe
logetes. For the Utopians fought not this war for themselves.
And yet the Nephelogetes before the war, when the Alao
politanes flourished in wealth, were nothing to be compared
with them. So eagerly the Utopians prosecute the injuries
done to their friends, yea, in money matters ; and not their
own likewise. For if they by cunning or guile be defrauded
of their goods, so that no violence be done to their
bodies, they wreak their anger by abstaining from occupying
with that nation, until they have made satisfaction. Not for
because they set le-ss store by their own citizens, than by
their friends; but that they take the loss of their friends'
money more heavily than the loss of their own. Because
that their friends' merchantmen, forasmuch as that they
lose is their own private goods, sustain great damage by the
loss. But their own citizens lose nothing but of the common
goods, and of that which was at home plentiful and almost
superfluous, else had it not been sent forth. Therefore no
man feeleth the loss. And for this cause they think it too
cruel an act, to revenge that loss with the death of many,
the incommodity of the which loss no man feeleth neither in
his life, neither in his living. But if it chance that any

230 SIR THOMAS MORE

of their men in any other country be maimed or killed,
whether it be done by a common or a private counsel,
knowing and trying out the truth of the matter by their
ambassadors, unless the offenders be rendered unto them in
recompense of the injury, they will not be appeased; but
incontinent they proclaim war against them. The offenders
yielded, they punish either with death or with bondage.
They be not only sorry, but also ashamed to achieve the
victory with much bloodshed, counting it great folly to buy
precious wares too dear. They rejoice and avaunt themselves,
if they vanquish and oppress their enemies by craft and deceit.
And for that act they make a general triumph, and as if
the matter were manfully handled, they set up a pillar of
stone in the place where they so vanquished their enemies,
in token of the victory. For then they glory, then they
boast and crack that they have played the men indeed, when
they have so overcome, as no other living creature but only
man could; that is to say, by the might and puissance of
wit. For with bodily strength (say they) bears, lions, boars,
wolves, dogs and other wild beasts do fight. And as the
most part of them do pass us in strength and fierce courage,
so in wit and reason we be much stronger than they
all. Their chief and principal purpose in war, is to
obtain that thing, which if they had before obtained, they
would not have moved battle. But if that be not possible,
they take so cruel vengeance of them, which be in the fault,
that ever after they be afraid to do the like. This is their
chief and principal intent, which they immediately and first of
all prosecute, and set forward. But yet so, that they be more
circumspect in avoiding and eschewing jeopardies, than they
be desirous of praise and renown. Therefore immediately
after that war is once solemnly denounced, they procure
many proclamations signed with their own common seal to
be set up privily at one time in their enemies' land, in places
most frequented. In these proclamations they promise great
rewards to him that will kill their enemies' prince, and some
what less gifts, but them very great also, for every head of
them, whose names be in the said proclamations contained.
They be those whom they count their chief adversaries, next
unto the prince. Whatsoever is prescribed unto him that

UTOPIA 231

killeth any of the proclaimed persons, that is doubled to him
that hringeth any of the same to them alive; yea, and to the
proclaimed persons themselves, if they will change their
minds and come into them, taking their parts, they proffer
the same great rewards with pardon and surety of their lives.
Therefore it quickly cometh to pass that they have all
other men in suspicion, and be unfaithful and mistrusting
among themselves one to another, living in great fear, and in
no less jeopardy. For it is well known, that divers times the
most part of them (and specially the prince himself) hath
been betrayed of them, in whom they put their most hope and
trust. So that there is no manner of act nor deed that
gifts and rewards do not enforce men unto. And in rewards
they keep no measure. But remembering and considering
into how great hazard and jeopardy they call them, en
deavour themselves to recompense the greatness of the
danger with like great benefits. And therefore they promise
not only wonderful great abundance of gold, but also lands
of great revenues lying in most safe places among their
friends. And their promises they perform faithfully without
any fraud or deceit. This custom of buying and selling
adversaries among other people is disallowed, as a cruel
act of a base and a cowardish mind. But they in this behalf
think themselves much praiseworthy, as who like wise men
by this means despatch great wars without any battle or
skirmish. Yea they count it also a deed of pity and mercy,
because that by the death of a few offenders the lives of a
great number of innocents, as well of their own men as
also of their enemies, be ransomed and saved, which in
fighting should have been slain. For they do no less pity
the base and common sort of their enemies' people, than
they do their own ; knowing that they be driven to
war against their wills by the furious madness of their
princes and heads. If by none of these means the matter go
forward as they would have it, then they procure occasions
of debate and dissension to be spread among their enemies.
As by bringing the prince's brother, or some of the noblemen,
in hope to obtain the kingdom. If this way prevail not, then
they raise up the people that be next neighbours and bor
derers to their enemies, and them they set in their necks

232 SIR THOMAS MORE

under the colour of some old title of right, such as kings do
never lack. To them they promise their help and aid in their
war. And as for money they give them abundance. But
of their own citizens they send to them few or none. Whom
they make so much of and love so entirely, that they would
not be willing to change any of them for their adversary's
prince. But their gold and silver, because they keep it all
for this only purpose, they lay it out frankly and freely ; as
who should live even as wealthily, if they had bestowed it
every penny. Yea, and besides their riches, whi.ch they keep
at home, they have also an infinite treasure abroad, by reason
that (as I said before) many nations be in their debt.
Therefore they hire soldiers out of all countries and send
them to battle, but chiefly of the Zapoletes. This people
is five hundred miles from Utopia eastward. They be
hideous, savage and fierce, dwelling in wild woods and high
mountains, where they were bred and brought up. They
be of an hard nature, able to abide and sustain heat, cold and
labour, abhorring from all delicate dainties, occupying no
husbandry nor tillage of the ground, homely and rude both in
the building of their houses and in their apparel, given unto
no goodness, but only to the breeding and bringing up of cat
tle. The most part of their living is by hunting and stealing.
They be born only to war, which they diligently and ear
nestly seek for. And when they have gotten it, they be
wonders glad thereof. They go forth of their country in
great companies together, and whosoever lacketh soldiers,
there they proffer their service for small wages. This is only
the craft that they have to get their living by. They main
tain their life by seeking their death. For them with whom
they be in wages they fight hardily, fiercely, and faithfully.
But they bind themselves for no certain time. But upon
this condition they enter into bonds, that the next day they
will take part with the other side for greater wages, and
the next day after that, they will be ready to come back
again for a little more money. There be few wars thereaway,
wherein is not a great number of them in both parties.
Therefore it daily chanceth that nigh kinsfolk, which were
hired together on one part, and there very friendly and
familiarly used themselves one with another, shortly after

UTOPIA 233

being separate into contrary parts, run one against another
enviously and fiercely, and forgetting both kindred and
friendship, thrust their swords one in another. And that
for none other cause, but that they be hired of contrary
princes for a little money. Which they do so highly regard
and esteem, that they will easily be provoked to change parts
for a halfpenny more wages by the day. So quickly they
have taken a smack in covetousness. Which for all that is
to them no profit. For that they get by fighting, immediately
they spend unthriftily and wretchedly in riot. This people
fight for the Utopians against all nations, because they
give them greater wages than any other nation will. For
the Utopians like as they seek good men to use well, so
they seek these evil and vicious men to abuse. Whom, when
need requireth, with promises of great rewards they put
forth into great jeopardies. From whence the most part of
them never cometh again to ask their rewards. But to
them that remain alive they pay that which they promised
faithfully, that they may be the more willing to put them
selves in like dangers another time. Nor the Utopians pass
not how many of them they bring to destruction. For they
believe that they should do a very good deed for all mankind,
if they could rid out of the world all that foul stinking
den of that most wicked and cursed people. Next unto
these they use the soldiers of them whom they fight for.
And then the help of their other friends. And last of all,
they join to their own citizens. Among whom they give to
one of tried virtue and prowess the rule, governance, and
conduction of the whole army. Under him they appoint
two other, which, whilest he is safe, be both private and out
of office. But if he be taken or slain, the one of the other
two succeedeth him, as it were by inheritance. And if the
second miscarry, then the third taketh his room, lest that
(as the chance of battle is uncertain and doubtful) the
jeopardy or death of the captain should bring the whole army
in hazard. They choose soldiers, out of every city, those which
put forth themselves willingly. For they thrust no man
forth into war against his will. Because they believe,
if any man be fearful and faint-hearted of nature, he will
not only do no rranful and hardy act himself, but also be

234 SIR THOMAS MORE

occasion of covardice to his fellows. But if any battle be
made against their own country, then they put these cowards,
(so that they be strong-bodied) in ships among other bold-
hearted men. Or else they dispose them upon the walls,
from whence they may not fly. Thus what for shame that
their enemies be at hand, and what for because they be
without hope of running away, they forget all fear. And
many times extreme necessity turneth cowardice into prow
ess and manliness. But as none of them is thrust forth of
his country into war against his will, so women that be
willing to accompany their husbands in times of war be not
prohibited or stopped. Yet they provoke and exhort them to
it with praises. And in set field the wives do stand every
one by her own husband's side. Also every man is com
passed next about with his own children, kinsfolks, and
alliance; that they, whom nature chiefly moveth to mutual
succour, thus standing together, may help one another.
It is a great reproach and dishonesty for the husband to
come home without his wife, or the wife without her hus
band, or the son without his father. And therefore if the
other part stick so hard by it that the battle come to their
hands, it is fought with great slaughter and bloodshed, even
to the utter destruction of both parts. For as they make
all the means and shifts that may be to keep themselves
from the necessity of fighting, so that they may despatch
the battle by their hired soldiers ; so when there is no
remedy, but that they must needs fight themselves, then they
do as courageously fall to it, as before, whiles they might,
they did wisely avoid it. Nor they be not most fierce
at the first brunt. But in continuance by little and little
their fierce courage increaseth, with so stubborn and obsti
nate minds, that they will rather die than give back an inch.
For that surety of living, which every man hath at home
being joined with no careful anxiety or remembrance how
their posterity shall live after them (for this pensiveness
oftentimes breaketh and abateth courageous stomachs)
maketh them stout and hardy, and disdainful to be con
quered. Moreover their knowledge in chivalry and feats
of arms putteth. them in a good hope. Finally the whole
some and virtuous opinions, wherein they, were brought up

UTOPIA 235

even from their childhood, partly through learning, and
partly through the good ordinances and laws of their weal
public, augment and increase their manful courage. By
reason whereof they neither set so little store by their lives,
that they will rashly and unadvisedly cast them away : nor
they be not so far in lewd and fond love therewith, that
they will shamefully covet to keep them, when honesty
biddeth leave them. When the battle is hottest and in all
places most fierce and fervent, a band of chosen and picked
young men, which be sworn to live and die together, take
upon them to destroy their adversary's captain. Him they
invade, now with privy wiles, now by open strength. At
him they strike both near and far off. lie is assailed with
a long and a continual assault, fresh men still coming in
the wearied men's places. And seldom it chanceth (unless
he save himself by flying) that he is not either slain, or
else taken prisoner and yielded to his enemies alive. If they
win the field, they persecute not their enemies with the vio
lent rage of slaughter. For they had rather take them alive
than kill them. Neither they do so follow the chase and
pursuit of their enemies, but they leave behind them one
part of their host in battle array under their standards. In
somuch that if all their whole army be discomfited and
overcome saving the rearward, and that they therewith
achieve the victory, then they had rather let all their enemies
'scape, than to follow them out of array. For they remem
ber, it hath chanced unto themselves more than once ; the
whole power and strength of their host being vanquished
and put to flight, whilest their enemies rejoicing in the
victory have persecuted them flying some one way and
some another; a few of their men lying in an ambush,
there ready at all occasions, have suddenly risen upon them
thus dispersed and scattered out of array, and through pre
sumption of safety unadvisedly pursuing the chase, and have
incontinent changed the fortune of the whole battle, and
spite of their teeth wresting out of their hands the sure and
undoubted victory, being a little before conquered, have
for their part conquered the conquerors. It is hard to say
whether they be craftier in laying an ambush, or wittier
in avoiding the same. You would think they intend to fly,

236 SIR THOMAS MORE

when they mean nothing less. And contrariwise when they
go about that purpose, you would believe it were the least
part of their thought. For if they perceive themselves either
overmatched in number, or closed in too narrow a place, then
they remove their camp either in the night season with
silence, or by some policy they deceive their enemies, or in
the daytime they retire back so softly, that it is no less
jeopardy to meddle with them when they give back, than
when they press on. They fence and fortify their camp
surely with a deep and a broad trench. The earth thereof is
cast inward. Nor they do not set drudges and slaves awork
about it. It is done by the hands of the soldiers them
selves. All the whole army worketh upon it, except them
that watch in harness before the trench for sudden ad
ventures. Therefore by the labour of so many a large
trench closing in a great compass of ground is made in less
time than any man would believe. Their armour or harness,
which they wear, is sure and strong to receive strokes, and
handsome for all movings and gestures of the body, in
somuch that it is not unwieldy to swim in. For in the dis
cipline of their warfare among other feats they learn to
swim in harness. Their weapons be arrows afar off, which
they shoot both strongly and surely, not only footmen, but
also horsemen. At hand strokes they use not swords but
pollaxes, which be mortal, as well in sharpness, as in weight,
both for foins and down strokes. Engines for war they
devise and invent wonders wittily. Which when they be
made they keep very secret, lest if they should be known
before need require, they should be but laughed at and serve
to no purpose. But in making them, hereunto they have
chief respect, that they be both easy to be carried, and
handsome to be moved and turned about. Truce taken with
their enemies for a short time they do so firmly and faith
fully keep, that they will not break it; no, not though they
be thereunto provoked. They do not waste nor destroy their
enemies' land with foragings, nor they burn not up their
corn. Yea, they save it as much as may be from being over
run and trodden down either with men or horses, thinking
that it groweth for their own use and profit. They hurt
no man that is unarmed, unless he be an espial. All cities

UTOPIA 237

that be yielded unto them they defend. And such as they
win by force of assault, they neither despoil nor sack, but
them that withstood and dissuaded the yielding up of the
same, they put to death; the other soldiers they punish with
bondage. All the weak multitude they leave untouched.
If they know that any citizens counselled to yield and render
up the city, to them they give part of the condemned men's
goods. The residue they distribute and give freely among
them, whose help they had in the same war. For none of
themselves taketh any portion of the prey. But when the
battle is finished and ended, they put their friends to never
a penny cost of all the charges that they were at, but lay
it upon their necks that be conquered. Them they burden
with the whole charge of their expenses, which they demand
of them partly in money to be kept for like use of battle,
and partly in lands of great revenues to be paid unto them
yearly for ever. Such revenues they have now in many
countries. Which by little and little rising of divers and
sundry causes be increased above seven hundred thousand
ducats by the year. Thither they send forth some of their
citizens as lieutenants, to live there sumptuously like men of
honour and renown. And yet, this notwithstanding, much
money is saved, which cometh to the common treasury ; un
less it so chance that they had rather trust the country with
the money. Which many times they do so long, until they
have need to occupy it. And it seldom happeneth that they
demand all. Of these lands they assign part unto them which,
at their request and exhortation, put themselves in such
jeopardies as I spake of before. If any prince stir up war
against them, intending to invade their land, they meet him
incontinent out of their own borders with great power and
strength. For they never lightly make war in their own
countries. Nor they be never brought into so extreme ne
cessity as to take help out of foreign lands into their own
island.

Of the Religions in Utopia

There be divers kinds of religion not only in sundry parts
of the island, but also in divers places of every city. Some
worship for God, the sun ; some, the moon ; some, some other

238 SIR THOMAS MORE

of the planets. There be that give worship to a man that
was once of excellent virtue or of famous glory, not only as
God, but also as the chiefest and highest God. But the most
and the wisest part (rejecting all these) believe that there
is a certain godly power unknown, everlasting, incomprehen
sible, inexplicable, far above the capacity and reach of man's
wit, dispersed throughout all the world, not in bigness, but
in virtue and power. Him they call the father of all. To
him alone they attribute the beginnings, the increasings, the
proceedings, the changes and the ends of all things. Neither
they give divine honours to any other than to him. Yea
all the other also, though they be in divers opinions, yet in
this point they agree all together with the wisest sort, in
believing that there is one chief and principal God, the
maker and ruler of the whole world: whom they all com
monly in their country language call Mithra. But in this
they disagree, that among some he is counted one, and
among some another. For every one of them, whatsoever
that is which he taketh for the chief God, thinketh it to be
the very same nature, to whose only divine might and maj
esty the sum and sovereignty of all things by the consent
of all people is attributed and given. Howbeit they all be
gin by little and little to forsake and fall from this variety
of superstitions, and to agree together in that religion which
seemeth by reason to pass and excel the residue. And it is
not to be doubted, but all the other would long ago have
been abolished, but that whatsoever unprosperous thing
happened to any of them, as he was minded to change his
religion, the fearfulness of people did take it, not as a thing
coming by chance, but as sent from God out of heaven. As
though the God whose honour he was forsaking would
revenge that wicked purpose against him. But after they
heard us speak of the name of Christ, of his doctrine, laws,
miracles, and of the no less wonderful constancy of so
many martyrs, whose blood willingly shed brought a great
number of nations throughout all parts of the world into
their sect; you will not believe with how glad minds, they
agreed unto the same: whether it were by the secret inspir
ation of God, or else for that they thought it next unto
that opinion, which among them is counted the chiefest.

UTOPIA 239

Howbeit I think this was no small help and furtherance in
the matter, that they heard us say, that Christ instituted
among his, all things common ; and that the same community
doth yet remain amongst the rightest Christian companies.
Verily howsoever it came to pass, many of them consented
together in our religion, and were washed in the holy water
of baptism. But because among us four (for no more of
us was left alive, two of our company being dead) there was
no priest; which I am right sorry for; they being entered and
instructed in all other points of our religion, lack only those
sacraments, which here none but priests do minister. How
beit they understand and perceive them and be very desirous
of the same. Yea, they reason and dispute the matter
earnestly among themselves, whether without the sending
of a Christian bishop, one chosen out of their own people
may receive the order of priesthood. And truly they were
minded to choose one. But at my departure from them they
had chosen none. They also which do not agree to Christ's
religion, fear no man from it, nor speak against any man
that hath received it. Saving that one of our company in
my presence was sharply punished. He as soon as he was
baptised began against our wills, with more earnest affection
than wisdom, to reason of Christ's religion; and began to
wax so hot in his matter, that he did not only prefer our
religion before all other, but also did utterly despise and
condemn all other, calling them profane, and the fol
lowers of them wicked and devilish and the children of
everlasting damnation. When he had thus long reasoned
the matter, they laid hold on him, accused him and con
demned him into exile, not as a despiser of religion, but as
a seditious person and a raiser up of dissension among the
people. For this is one of the ancientest la\vs among them;
that no man shall be blamed for reasoning in the maintenance
of his own religion. For King Utopus, even at the first
beginning, hearing that the inhabitants of the land were,
before his coining thither, at continual dissension and strife
among themselves for their religions; perceiving also that
this common dissension (whilest every several sect took
several parts in fighting for their country) was the only
occasion of his conquest over them all; as soon as he had

240 SIR THOMAS MORE

gotten the victory, first of all he made a decree, that it
should be lawful for every man to favour and follow what
religion he would, and that he might do the best he could
to bring other to his opinion, so that he did it -peaceably,
gently, quietly, and soberly, without haste and contentious
rebuking and inveighing against other. If he could not by
fair and gentle speech induce them unto his opinion yet he
should use no kind of violence, and refrain from displeasant
and seditious words. To him that would vehemently and
fervently in this cause strive and contend was decreed
banishment or bondage. This law did King Utopus make
not only for the maintenance of peace, which he saw through
continual contention and mortal hatred utterly extinguished;
but also because he thought this decree should make for the
furtherance of religion. Whereof he durst define and de
termine nothing unadvisedly, as doubting whether God
desiring manifold and divers sorts of honour, would inspire
sundry men with sundry kinds of religion. And this surely
he thought a very unmeet and foolish thing, and a point
of arrogant presumption, to compel all other by violence and
threatenings to agree to the same that thou believest to be
true. Furthermore though there be one religion which alone
is true, and all other vain and superstitious, yet did he well
foresee (so that the matter were handled with reason, and
sober modesty) that the truth of its own power would at
the last issue out and come to light. But if contention and
debate in that behalf should continually be used, as the
worst men be most obstinate and stubborn, and in their evil
opinion most constant ; he perceived that then the best and
holiest religion would be trodden underfoot and destroyed
by most vain superstitions, even as good corn is by thorns
and weeds overgrown and choked. Therefore all this matter
he left undiscussed, and gave to every man free liberty and
choice to believe what he would. Saving that he earnestly
and straightly charged them, that no man should conceive
so vile and base an opinion of the dignity of man's nature, as
to think that the souls do die and perish with the body; or
that the world runneth at all adventures governed by no
divine providence. And therefore they believe that after
this life vices be extremely punished and virtues bountifully

UTOPIA 241

rewarded. Him that is of a contrary opinion they count not
in the number of men, as one that hath abased the high
nature of his soul to the vileness of brute beasts' bodies,
much less in the number of their citizens, whose laws and
ordinances, if it were not for fear, he would nothing at all
esteem. For you may be sure that he will study either with
craft privily to mock, or else violently to break the common
laws of his country, in whom remaineth no further fear
than of the laws, nor no further hope than of the body.
Wherefore he that is thus minded is deprived of all honours,
excluded from aii offices and rejected from all common
administrations in the weal public. And thus he is of all
sort despised, as of an unprofitable and of a base and vile
nature. Howbeit they put him to no punishment, because
they be persuaded that it is in no man's power to believe
what he list. Xo, nor they constrain him not with threaten-
ings to dissemble his mind and show countenance contrary to
his thought. For deceit and falsehood and all manner of
lies, as next unto fraud, they do marvellously detest and
abhor. But they suffer him not to dispute in his opinion,
and that only among the common people. For else apart
among the priests and men of gravity they do not only suffer,
but also exhort him to dispute and argue, hoping that at the
last, that madness will give place to reason. There be also
other, and of them no small number, which be not forbidden
to speak their minds, as grounding their opinion upon some
reason, being in their living neither evil nor vicious. Their
heresy is much contrary to the other. For they believe that
the souls of brute beasts be immortal and everlasting. But
nothing to be compared with ours in dignity, neither ordained
and predestinate to like felicity. For all they believe cer
tainly and surely that man's bliss shall be so great, that
they do mourn and lament every man's sickness, but no
man's death, unless it be one whom they see depart from
his life carefully and against his will. For this they take
for a very evil token, as though the soul being in despair
and vexed in conscience, through some privy and secret
forefeeling of the punishment now at hand, were afraid to
depart. And they think he shall not be welcome to God,
which, when he is called, runneth not to him gladly, but is

242 SIR THOMAS MORE

drawn by force and sore against his will. They therefore
that see this kind of death do abhor it, and them that so
die they bury with sorrow and silence. And when they
have prayed God to be merciful to the soul and mercifully
to pardon the infirmities thereof, they cover the dead corse
with earth. Contrariwise all that depart merrily and full
of good hope, for them no man mourneth, but followeth
the hearse with joyful singing, commending the souls to
God with great affection. And at the last, not with mourn-
inr sorrow, but with a great reverence they burn the bodies.
And in the same place they set up a pillar of stone, with the
dead man's titles therein graved. When they be come home
they rehearse his virtuous manners and his good deeds.
But no part of his life is so oft or gladly talked of as his
merry death. They think that this remembrance of
their virtue and goodness doth vehemently provoke and
enforce the quick to virtue. And that nothing can be
more pleasant and acceptable to the dead. Whom they
suppose to be present among them, when they talk of them,
though to the dull and feeble eyesight of mortal men they be
invisible. For it were an inconvenient thing that the
blessed should not be at liberty to go whither they would.
And it were a point of great unkindness in them to have
utterly cast away the desire of visiting and seeing their
friends, to whom they were in their lifetime joined by
mutual love and charity. Which in good men after their
death they count to be rather increased than diminished.
They believe therefore that the dead be presently conversant
among the quick, as beholders and witnesses of all their
words and deeds. Therefore ^they go more courageously to
their business as having a trust and affiance in such over
seers. And this same belief of the present conversation
of their forefathers and ancestors among them feareth
them from all secret dishonesty. They utterly despise and
mock soothsayings and divinations of things to come by the
flight or voices of birds, and all other divinations of vain
superstition, which in other countries be in great observation.
But they highly esteem and worship miracles that come by
no help of nature, as works and witnesses of the present
power of God. And such they say do chance there very

UTOPIA 243

often. And sometimes in great and doubtful matters, by
common intercession and prayers, they procure and obtain
them with a sure hope and confidence, and a steadfast
belief.

They think that the contemplation of nature and the praise
thereof coming, is to God a very acceptable honour. Yet
there be many so earnestly bent and affectioned to religion,
that they pass nothing for learning, nor give their minds to
no knowledge of things. But idleness they utterly forsake
and eschew, thinking felicity after this life to be gotten and
obtained by busy labours and ^ood exercises. Some there
fore of them attend upon the sick, some amend highways,
cleanse ditches, repair bridges, dig turfs, gravel and stones,
fell and cleave wood, bring woo'', corn, and other things
into the cities in carts, and serve not only in common works,
but also in private labours a. servants, yea, more than bond
men. For whatsoever unpleasant, hard and vile work is
anywhere, from the which labour, loathsomeness and des
peration doth frighten other, all that they take upon them
willingly and gladly, procuring quiet and rest to other,
remaining in continual work and labour themselves, not
upbraiding others therewith. They neither reprove other
men's lives, nor glory in their own. These men the more
serviceable they behave themselves, the more they be hon
oured of all n.en. Yet they be divided into two sects. The
one is of them that live single and chaste, abstaining not only
from the company of women, but also from the eating of
flesh, an<t rome of them from all manner of beasts. Which
utterly rejecting the pleasures of this present life as hurtful,
be all v.-holly set upon the desire of the life to come by watch
ing and sweating, hoping shortly to obtain it, being in the
mean season merry and lusty. The other sect is no less de
sirous of labour, but they embrace matrimony, not despising
the solace thereof, thinking that they cannot be discharged of
their bounden unties towards nature without labour and
toil, nor toward; their native country without procreation
of children. They abstain from no pleasure that doth noth
ing hinder them from labour. They love the flesh of four-
footed beasts, because they believe that by that meat they
be made hardier and stronger to work. The Utopians count

244 SIR THOMAS MORE

this sect the wiser, but the other the holier. Which, in
that they prefer single life before matrimony, and that sharp
life before an easier life, if herein they grounded upon
reason they would mock them. But now forasmuch as
they say they be led to it by religion, they honour and wor
ship them. And these be they whom in their language by
a peculiar name, they call Buthrescas, the which word by
interpretation signified! to us men of religion or religious
men. They have priests of exceeding holiness, and therefore
very few. For there be but thirteen in every city according
to the number of their churches, saving when they go forth
to battle. For then seven of them go forth with the army;
in whose stead so many new be made at home. But the
other at their return home again re-enter every one into
his own place, they that be above the number, until such
time as they succeed into the places of the other at their
dying, be in the mean season continually in company with
the bishop. For he is the chief head of them all. They
be chosen of the people, as the other magistrates be, by
secret voices for the avoiding of strife. After their election
they be consecrate of their own company. They be over
seers of all divine matters, orderers of religions, and as it
were judges and masters of manners. And it is a great
dishonesty and shame to be rebuked or spoken to by any of
them for dissolute and incontinent living. But as it is
their office to give good exhortations and counsel, so is it
the duty of the prince and the other magistrates to correct
and punish offenders, saving that the priests, whom they
find exceeding vicious livers, them they excommunicate from
having any interest in divine matters. And there is almost
no punishment among them more feared. For they run in
very great infamy, and be inwardly tormented with a secret
fear of religion, and shall not long 'scape free with their
bodies. For -mless they by quick repentance approve the
amendment of their lives to the priests, they be taken and
punished of the council, as wicked and irreligious. Both
childhood and youth is instructed and taught of them. Nor
they be not more diligent to instruct them in learning, than
in virtue and good manners. For they use with very great
endeavour and diligence to put into the heads of their

UTOPIA 245

children, whiles they be yet tender and pliant, good opinions
and profitable for the conservation of their weal public.
Which when they be once rooted in children, do remain with
them all their life after, and be wonders profitable for the
defence and maintenance of the state of the commonwealth.
Which never decayeth but through vices rising of evil
opinions. The priests, unless they be women (for that kind
is not excluded from priesthood, howbeit few be chosen,
and none but widows and old women), the men priests,
I say, take to their wives the chiefest women in all their
country. For to no office among the Utopians is more
honour and pre-eminence given. Insomuch that if they
commit any offence, they be under no common judgment,
but be left only to God, and themselves. Fcr they think
it not lawful to touch him with nv.n's r.in.d, be he never so
vicious, which after so singular a sort was dedicate and con
secrate to God, as a holy offering. This manner may they
easily observe, because they have so few priests, and do
choose them with such circumspection. For it scarcely
ever chanceth that the most virtuous among virtuous, which
in respect only of his virtue is advanced to so high a dignity,
can fall to vice and wickedness. And if it should chance
indeed (as man's nature is mutable and frail) yet by
reason they be so few and promoted to no might nor power,
but only honour, it were not to be feared that any great
damage by them should happen and ensue to the common
wealth. They have so rare and few priests, lest if the
honour were communicate to many, the dignity of the order,
which among them now is so highly esteemed, should run
in contempt. Specially because they think it hard to find
many so good as to be meet for that dignity, to the execu
tion and discharge whereof it is not sufficient to be endued
with mean virtues. Furthermore these priests be not more
esteemed of their own countrymen, than they be of foreign
and strange countries. Which thing may hereby plainly
appear. And I think also that this is the cause of it. For
whiles the arm[i]es be fighting together in open field, they a
little beside, not far off kneel upon their knees in their
hallowed vestments, holding up their hands to heaven, pray
ing first of all for peace, next for victory of their own part,

246 SIR THOMAS MORE

but to neither part a bloody victory. If their host get the
upper hand, they run into the main battle and restrain
their own men from slaying and cruelly pursuing their
vanquished enemies. Which enemies, if they do but see them
and speak to them, it is enough for the safeguard of their
lives. And the touching of their clothes defendeth and
saveth all their goods from ravine and spoil. This thing
hath advanced them to so great worship and true majesty
among all nations, that many times they have as well pre
served their own citizens from the cruel force of their
enemies, as they have their enemies from the furious rage
of their own men. For it is well known, that when their
own army hath reculed and in despair turned back and run
away, their enemies fiercely pursuing with slaughter and
spoil, then the priests coming between have stayed the mur
der, and parted both the hosts. So that peace hath been
made and concluded between both parts upon equal and
indifferent conditions. For there was never any nation, so
fierce, so cruel and rude, but they had them in such rever
ence, that they counted their bodies hallowed and sanctified,
and therefore not to be violently and unreverently touched.
They keep holy day the first and the last day of every month
and year, dividing the year into months, which they measure
by the course of the moon, as they do the year by the course
of the sun. The first days they call in their language Cyne-
mernes and the last Trapemernes, the which words may be in
terpreted, primifest and finifest, or else in our speech, first
feast and last feast. Their churches be very gorgeous and
not only of fine and curious workmanship, but also (which
in the fewness of them was necessary) very wide and large,
and able to receive a great company of people. But they
be all somewhat dark. Howbeit that was not done through
ignorance in building, but as they say, by the counsel of the
priests. Because they thought that over much light doth
disperse men's cogitations, whereas in dim and doubtful light
they be gathered together, and more earnestly fixed upon
religion and' devotion ; which because it is not there of one
sort among all men, and yet all the kinds and fashions of it,
though they be sundry and manifold, agree together in the
honour of the divine nature as going divers ways to one

UTOPIA 247

end; therefore nothing is seen nor heard in the churches,
which seemeth not to agree indifferently with them all. If
there be a distinct kind of sacrifice peculiar to any several
sect, that they execute at home in their own houses. The
common sacrifices be so ordered, that they be no derogation
nor prejudice to any of the private sacrifices and religions.
Therefore no image of any god is seen in the churcn, to
the intent it may be free for every man to conceive God by
their religion after what likeness and similitude they will.
They call upon no peculiar name of God, but only Mithra,
in the which word they all agree together in one nature
of the divine majesty whatsoever it be. Xo prayers be
used but such as every man may boldly pronounce without
the offending of any sect. They come therefore to the
church the last day of every month and year, in the evening
yet fasting, there to give thanks to God for that they have
prosperously passed over the year or month, whereof that
holy day is the last day. The next day they come to the
church early in the morning, to pray to God that they may
have good fortune and success all the new year or month
which they do begin of that same holy day. But in the
holy days that be the last days of the months and years
before they come to the church, the wives fall down pros
trate before their husbands' feet at home and the children
before the feet of their parents, confessing and acknowledg
ing that they have offended either by some actual deed, or
by omission of their duty, and desire pardon for their of
fence. Thus if any cloud of privy displeasure was risen
at home, by this satisfaction it is overblown, that they may
be present at the sacrifices with pure and charitable minds.
For they be afraid to come there with troubled consciences.
Therefore if they know themselves to bear any hatred or
grudge towards any man, they presume not to come to the
sacrifices, before they have reconciled themselves and purged
their consciences, for fear of great vengeance and punish
ment for their offence. "When they come thither, the men
go into the right side of the church and the women into
the left side. There they place themselves in such order,
that all they which be of the male kind in every household
sit before the goodman of the house, and they of the female

248 SIR THOMAS MORE

kind before the goodwife. Thus it is foreseen that all their
gestures and behaviours be marked and observed abroad of
them by whose authority and discipline they be governed
at home. This also they diligently see unto, that the younger
evermore be coupled with his elder, lest if children be
joined together, they should pass over that time in childish
wantonness, wherein they ought principally to conceive a
religious and devout fear towards God, which is the chief
and almost the only incitation to virtue. They kill no
living beast in sacrifice, nor they think not that the merciful
clemency of God hath delight in blood and slaughter, which
hath given life to beasts to the intent they should live.
They burn frankincense and other sweet savours, and light
also a great number of wax candles and tapers, not suppos
ing this gear to be anything available to the divine nature,
as neither the prayers of men. But this unhurtful and harm
less kind of worship pleaseth them. And by these sweet sav
ours and lights, and other such ceremonies men feel them
selves secretly lifted up and encouraged to devotion with more
willing and fervent hearts. The people weareth in the church
white apparel. The priest is clothed in changeable colours.
Which in workmanship be excellent, but in stuff not very
precious. For their vestments be neither embroidered with
gold, nor set with precious stones. But they be wrought
so finely and cunningly with divers feathers of fowls, that
the estimation of no costly stuff is able to countervail the
price of the work. Furthermore • in these birds' feathers,
and in the due order of them, which is observed in their
setting, they say, is contained certain divine mysteries. The
interpretation whereof known, which is diligently taught
by the priests, they be put in remembrance of the bountiful
benefits of God toward them; and of the love and honour
which of their behalf is due to God; and also of their duties
one toward another. When the priest first cometh out of
the vestry thus apparelled, they fall down incontinent every
one reverently to the ground, with so still silence on every
part, that the very fashion of the thing striketh into them
a certain fear of God, as though he were there personally
present. When they have lain a little space on the ground,
the priest giveth them a sign for to rise. Then they sing

UTOPIA 249

praises unto God, which they intermix with instruments of
music, for the most part of other fashions than these that
we use in this part of the world. And like as some of
ours be much sweeter than theirs, so some of theirs do far
pass ours. But in one thing doubtless they go exceeding far
beyond us. For all their music, both that they play upon
instruments, and that they sing with man's voice, doth so
resemble and express natural affections, the sound and tune
is so applied and made agreeable to the thing, that whether
it be a prayer, or else a ditty of gladness, of patience, of
trouble, of mourning, or of anger; the fashion of the melody
doth so represent the meaning of the thing, that it doth
wonderfully move, stir, pierce and inflame the hearers' minds.
At the last the people and the priest together rehearse
solemn prayers in words, expressly pronounced, so made that
every man may privately apply to himself that which is
commonly spoken of all. In these prayers every man rec-
ogniseth and acknowledged! God to be his maker, his gov
ernor and the principal cause of all other goodness, thanking
him for so many benefits received at his hand. But namely
that through the favour of God he hath chanced into that
public weal, which is most happy and wealthy, and hath
chosen that religion, which he hopeth to be most true. In
the which thing if he do anything err, or if there be any
other better than either of them is, being more acceptable
to God, he desireth him that he will of his goodness let him
have knowledge thereof, as one that is ready to follow what
way soever he will lead him. But if this form and fashion
of a commonwealth be best, and his own religion most
true and perfect, then he desireth God to give him a con
stant steadfastness in the same, and to bring all other people
to the same order of living and to the same opinion of God,
unless there be anything that in this diversity of religions
doth delight his unsearchable pleasure. To be short, he
prayeth him that after his death he may come to him. But
how soon or late that he dare not assign or determine.
Howbeit, if it might stand with his majesty's pleasure, he
would be much gladder to die a painful death and so to go
to God, than by long living in worldly prosperity to be away
from him. When this prayer is said they fall down to the

250 SIR THOMAS MORE

ground again and a little after they rise up and go to dinner.
And the residue of the day they pass over in plays and
exercise of chivalry.

Now I have declared and described unto you, as truly as
I could the form and order of that commonwealth, which
verily in my judgment is not only the best, but also that
which alone of good right may claim and take upon it the
name of a commonwealth or public weal. For in other
places they speak still of the commonwealth, but every man
procureth his own private wealth. Here where nothing is
private, the common affairs be earnestly looked upon. And
truly on both parts they have good cause so to do as they
do. For in other countries who knoweth not that he shall
starve for hunger, unless he make some several provision
for himself, though the commonwealth flourish never so
much in riches ? And therefore he is compelled even of
very necessity to have regard to himself, rather than to the
people, that is to say, to other. Contrariwise, there where
all things be common to every man, it is not to be doubted
that, any man shall lack anything necessary for his private
uses, so that the common storehouses and barns be suffi
ciently stored. For there nothing is distributed after a nig-
gish sort, neither there is any poor man or beggar. And
though no man have anything, yet every man is rich. For
what can be more rich, than to live joyfully and merrily,
without all grief and pensiveness; not caring for his own
living, nor vexed or troubled with his wife's importunate
complaints, not dreading poverty to his son, nor sorrowing
for his daughter's dowry ? • Yea they take no care at all
for the living and wealth of themselves and all theirs, of
their wives, their children, their nephews, their children's
children, and all the succession that ever shall follow in
their posterity. And yet besides this there is no less provision
for them that were once labourers and be now weak and
impotent, than for them that do now labour and take pain.
Here now would I see, if any man dare be so bold as to
compare with this equity, the justice of other nations ;
among whom, I forsake God, if I can find any sign or token
of equity and justice. For what justice is this, that a rich
goldsmith, or an usurer, or to be short, any of them which

UTOPIA 251

either do nothing at all, or else that which thev do is such
that it is not very necessary to the commonwealth, should
have a pleasant and a wealthy living, either by idleness,
or by unnecessary business ; when in the meantime poor la
bourers, carters, ironsmiths, carpenters and ploughmen, by
so great and continual toil, as drawing and bearing bea?ts
be scant able to sustain, and again so necessary toil, that
without it no commonwealth were able to continue and
endure one year, do yet get so hard and poor a living,
and live so wretched and miserable a life, that the state
and condition of the labouring beasts may seem much better
and wealthier? For they be not put to so continual labour,
nor their living is not much worse, yea to them much
pleasanter, taking no thought in the mean season for the
time to come. But these silly poor wretches be presently
tormented with barren and unfruitful labour. And the
remembrance of their poor indigent and beggarly old age
killeth them up. For their daily wages is so little, that it
will not suffice for the same day, much less it yieldeth any
overplus, that may daily be laid up for the relief of old age.
Is not this an unjust and an unkind public weal, which
giveth great fees and rewards to gentlemen, as they call
them, and to goldsmiths, and to such other, which be either
idle persons, or else only flatterers, and devisers of vain
pleasures; and of the contrary part maketh no gentle pro
vision for poor ploughmen, colliers, labourers, carters, iron-
smiths, and carpenters: without whom no commonwealth
can continue. But when it hath abused the labours of their
lusty and flowering age, at the last when they be oppressed
with old age and sickness, being needy, poor, and indigent
of all things, then forgetting their so many painful watch-
ings, not remembering their so many and so great benefits,
recompenseth and acquitteth them most unkindly with miser
able death. And yet besides this the rich men not only by
private fraud, but also by common laws, do every day pluck
and snatch away from the poor some part of their daily
living. So whereas it seemed before unjust to recompense
with unkindness their pains that have been beneficial to the
public weal, now they have to this their wrong and unjust
dealing (which is yet a much worse point) given the name

252 SIR THOMAS MORE

of justice, yea and that by force of a law. Therefore when I
consider and weigh in my mind all these commonwealths,
which nowadays anywhere do flourish, so God help me, I can
perceive nothing but a certain conspiracy of rich men procur
ing their own commodities under the name and title of the
commonwealth. They invent and devise all means and crafts,
first how to keep safely, without fear of losing, that they have
unjustly gathered together, and next how to hire and abuse
the work and labour of the poor for as little money as may
be. These devices, when the rich men have decreed to be
kept and observed for the commonwealth's sake, that is to say
for the wealth also of the poor people, then they be made laws.
But these most wicked and vicious men, when they have by
their insatiable covetousness divided among themselves all
those things, which would have sufficed all men, yet how
far be they from the wealth and felicity of the Utopian com
monwealth? Out of the which, in that all the desire of
money with the use thereof is utterly secluded and banished,
how great a heap of cares is cut away ! How great an
occasion of wickedness and mischief is plucked up by the
roots ! For who knoweth not, that fraud, theft, ravine,
brawling, quarreling, brabling, strife, chiding, contention,
murder, treason, poisoning, which by daily punishments are
rather revenged than refrained, do die when money dieth?
And also that fear, grief, care, labours and watchings do
perish even the very same moment that money perisheth?
Yea poverty itself, which only seemed to lack money, if
money were gone, it also would decrease and vanish away.
And that you may perceive this more plainly, consider with
yourselves some barren and unfruitful year, wherein many
thousands of people have starved for hunger. I dare be bold
to say, that in the end of that penury so much corn or grain
might have been found in the rich men's barns, if they had
been searched, as being divided among them whom famine
and pestilence have killed, no man at all should have felt
that plague and penury. So easily might men get their
living, if that same worthy princess, lady money, did not
alone stop up the way between us and our living, which a
God's name was very excellently devised and invented, that
by her the way thereto should be opened. I am sure the

UTOPIA 253

rich men perceive this, nor they be not ignorant how much
better it were to lack no necessary thing, than to abound
with overmuch superfluity; to be rid out of innumerable
cares and troubles, than to be besieged with great riches.
And I doubt not that either the respect of every man's
private commodity, or else the authority of our saviour
Christ (which for his great wisdom could not but know
what were best, and for his inestimable goodness could
not but counsel to that which he knew to be best) would
have brought all the world long ago into the laws of
this weal public, if it were not that one only beast, the
princess and mother of all mischief, pride, doth withstand
and let it. She measureth not wealth and prosperity by her
own commodities, but by the miseries and incommodities of
other : she would not by her good will be made a goddess,
if there were no wretches left, whom she might be lady
over to mock and scorn ; over whose miseries her felicity
might shine, whose poverty she might vex. torment and
increase by gorgeously setting forth her riches. This
hell-hound crcepeth into men's hearts, and plucketh them
back from entering the right path of life, and is so deeply
rooted in men's breasts, that she cannot be plucked out.
This form and fashion of a weal public, which I would
gladly wish unto all nations, I am glad yet that it hath
chanced to the Utopians, which have followed those institu
tions of life, whereby they have laid such foundations of
their commonwealth, as shall continue and last not only
wealthily, but also, as far as man's wit may judge and
conjecture, shall endure for ever. For seeing the chief
causes of ambition and sedition with other vices be plucked
up by the roots and abandoned at home, there can be no
jeopardy of domestical dissension, which alone hath cast
under foot and brought to nought the well fortified and
strongly-defenced wealth and riches of many cities. But
forasmuch as perfect concord remaineth, and wholesome laws
be executed at home the envy of all foreign princes be not
able to shake or move the empire, though they have many
times long ago gone about to do it, being evermore driven
back.

Thus when Raphael had made an end of his tale, though

254 SIR THOMAS MORE

many things came to my mind, which in the manners and laws
of that people seemed to be instituted and founded of no good
reason, not only in the fashion of their chivalry, and in their
sacrifices and religions, and in other of their laws, but also,
yea and chiefly, in that which is the principal foundation of
all their ordinances, that is to say, in the community of their
life and living, without any occupying of money, by the
which thing only all nobility, magnificence, worship, honour
and majesty, the true ornaments and honours, as the com
mon opinion is, of a commonwealth, utterly be overthrown
and destroyed; yet because I knew that he was weary of
talking, and was not sure whether he could abide that any
thing should be said against his mind; specially because I re
membered that he had reprehended this fault in other, which
be afraid lest they should seem not to be wise enough, unless
they could find some fault in other men's inventions ; there
fore I praising both their institutions and his communication,
took him by the hand, and led him in to supper ; saying that
we would choose another time to weigh and examine the
same matters, and to talk with him more at large therein.
Which would to God it might once come to pass. In the
meantime, as I cannot agree and consent to all things that he
said, being else without doubt a man singularly well learned,
and also in all worldly matters exactly and profoundly ex
perienced, so must I needs confess and grant that many
things be in the Utopian weal public, which in our cities I
may rather wish for, than hope after.

Thus endeth the afternoon's talk of Raphael Hythloday
concerning the laws and institutions of the Island of Utopia.

IMPRINTED AT LONDON BY ABRAHAM VELE,
DWELLING IN PAUL'S CHURCH YARD
AT THE SIGN OF THE LAMB.
ANNO 1551.

To the Right Honourable Hieronymus Buslidius, Provost of
Arienn, and Councillor to the Catholic King Charles,
Peter Giles, Citizen of Antwerp, vvisheth health and
felicity.

THOMAS MORE, the singular ornament of this our age, as
you yourself (right honourable Buslidius) can witness, to
whom he is perfectly well known, sent unto me this other
day the Island of Utopia, to very few as yet known, but most
worthy ; which, as far excelling Plato's commonwealth, all
people should be willing to know ; specially of a man most
eloquent so finely set forth, so cunningly painted out and
so evidently subject to the eye, that as oft as I read it, me-
thinketh that I see somewhat more, than when I heard
Raphael Hythloday himself (for I was present at that talk
as well as Master More) uttering and pronouncing his own
words. Yea, though the same man, according to his pure
eloquence, did so open and declare the matter, that he
might plainly enough appear, to report not things which he
had learned of others only by hearsay, but which he had
with his own eyes presently seen and thoroughly viewed, and
wherein he had no small time been conversant and abiding;
a man truly, in mine opinion, as touching the knowledge of
regions, peoples, and worldly experience, much passing, yea
even the very famous and renowned traveller Ulysses ; and
indeed such a one, as for the space of these eight hundred
years past I think nature into the world brought not forth
his like; in comparison of whom Vespucci may be thought to
have seen nothing. Moreover, whereas we be wont more ef
fectually and pithily to declare and express things that we
have seen, than which we have but only heard, there was be
sides that in this man a certain peculiar grace, and singular
dexterity to describe and set forth a matter withal. Yet the
selfsame things as oft as I behold and consider them drawn
and painted out with Master More's pencil, I am therewith
so moved, so delighted, so inflamed, and so rapt, that some-

255

256 SIR THOMAS MORE

times methink I am presently conversant, even in the island
of Utopia. And I promise you, I can scant believe that
Raphael himself by all that five years' space that he was in
Utopia abiding, saw there so much, as here in Master More's
description is to be seen and perceived. Which description
with so many wonders, and miraculous things is replenished,
that I stand in great doubt whereat first and chiefly to muse
or marvel ; whether at the excellence of his perfect and sure
memory, which could well-nigh word by word rehearse so
many things once only heard; or else at his singular pru
dence, who so well and wittily marked and bare away all the
original causes and fountains (to the vulgar people com
monly most unknown) whereof both issueth and springeth
the mortal confusion and utter decay of a commonwealth,
and also the advancement and wealthy state of the same may
rise and grow; or else at the efficacy and pith of his words,
which in so fine a Latin style, with such force of eloquence
hath couched together and comprised so many and divers
matters, especially being a man continually encumbered
with so many busy and troublesome cares, both public and
private, as he is. Howbeit all these things cause you little
to marvel (right honourable Buslidius) for that you are
familiarly and thoroughly acquainted with the notable, yea
almost divine wit of the man. But now to proceed to other
matters, I surely know nothing needful or requisite to be
adjoined unto his writings, only a meter of four verses
written in the Utopian tongue, which after Master More's
departure Hythloday by chance showed me, that have I
caused to be added thereto, with the alphabet of the same
nation. For, as touching the situation of the island, that
is to say, in what part of the world Utopia standeth, the
ignorance and lack whereof not a little troubleth and
grieveth Master More, indeed Raphael left not that un
spoken of. Howbeit with very few words he lightly touched
it, incidentally by the way passing it over, as meaning of
likelihood to keep and reserve that to another place. And
the same, I wot not how, by a certain evil and unlucky
chance escaped us both. For when Raphael was speaking
thereof, one of Master More's servants came to him and
whispered in his ear. Wherefore I being then of purpose

UTOPIA 257

more earnestly addict to hear, one of the company, by rea
son of cold taken, I think, a shipboard, coughed out so
loud, that he took from my hearing certain of his words.
But I will never stint nor rest, until I have got the full
and exact knowledge hereof; insomuch that I will be able
perfectly to instruct you, not only in the longitude or true
meridian of the island, but also in the just latitude thereof,
that is to say, in the sublevation or height of the pole in that
region, if our friend Hythloday be in safety and alive. For
we hear very uncertain news of him. Some report, that he
died in his journey homeward. Some again affirm, that he
returned into his country, but partly, for that he could not
away with the fashions of his country folk, and partly for
that his mind and affection was altogether set and fixed
upon Utopia, they say that he hath taken his voyage thither
ward again. Now as touching this, that the name of this
island is nowhere found among the old and ancient cosmo-
graphers, this doubt Hythloday himself very well dissolved.
For why it is possible enough (quoth he) that the name,
which it had in old time, was afterward changed, or else
that they never had knowledge of this island ; forasmuch
as now in our time divers lands be found, which to the old
geographers were unknown. Howbeit, what needeth it in
this behalf to fortify the matter with arguments, seeing
Master More is author hereof sufficient? But whereas he
doubteth of the edition or imprinting of the book, indeed
herein I both commend, and also acknowledge the man's
modesty. Howbeit unto me it seemeth a work most un
worthy to be long suppressed, and most worthy to go abroad
into the hands of men, yea, and under the title of your
name to be published to the world ; either because the singu
lar endowments and qualities of Master More be to no man
better known than to you, or else because no man is more
fit and meet, than you with good counsels to further and
advance the commonwealth, wherein you have many years
already continued and travailed with great glory and com
mendation, both of wisdom and knowledge, and also of in
tegrity and uprightness. Thus, O liberal supporter of good
learning, and flower of this our time, I bid you most heartily
well to fare. At Antwerp 1516, the first day of November.

HC XXXVI (l)

THE NINETY-FIVE THESES

ADDRESS TO
THE GERMAN NOBILITY

CONCERNING CHRISTIAN LIBERTY

BY
MARTIN LUTHER

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

MARTIN LUTHER, the leader of the Protestant Reformation,
tvas born at Eisleben, Prussian Saxony, November 10, 1483. He
studied jurisprudence at the University of Erfurt, where he
later lectured on physics and ethics. In 7505 he entered the
Augustinian monastery at Erfurt ; two years later was ordained
priest; and in 1508 became professor of philosophy at the
University of Wittenberg.

The starting-point of Luther's career as a reformer was his
posting on the church door of Wittenberg the Ninety-five
Theses on October 31, 1517. These formed a passionate statement
of the true nature of penitence, and a protest against the sale
of indulgences. In issuing the Theses, Luther expected the
support of his ecclesiastical superiors; and it was only after
three years of controversy, during which he refused a summons
to Rome, that he proceeded to publish those works that brought
about his expulsion from the Church.

The year 1520 saw the publication of the three great docu
ments which laid down the fundamental principles of the
Reformation. In the "Address to the Christian Nobility of the
German Nation,". Luther attacked the corruptions of the Church
and the abuses of its authority, and asserted the right of the
layman to spiritual independence. In " Concerning Christian
Liberty," he expounded the doctrine of justification by faith,
and gave a complete presentation of his theological position.
In the "Babylonish Captivity of the Church," he criticized the
sacramental system, and set up the Scriptures as the supreme
authority in religion.

In the midst of this activity came his formal excommunica
tion, and his renunciation of allegiance to the Pope. He was
proscribed by the Emperor Charles V and taken into the pro
tection of prison in the Wartburg by the friendly Elector of
Saxony, where he translated the New Testament. The complete
translation of the Bible, issued in 1534, marks the establishment
of the modern literary language of Germany.

The rest of Luther's life was occupied with a vast amount of
literary and controversial activity. He died at Eisleben, Feb
ruary 18, 1546.

260

INTRODUCTORY LETTER

To the most Reverend Father in Christ and most illustrious
Lord, Albert, Archbishop and Primate of the Churches of
Magdeburg and Mentz, Marquis of Brandenburg, etc., his lord
and pastor in Christ, most gracious and worthy of all fear and
reverence—

JESUS

The grace of God be with you, and whatsoever it is and
can do.

Spare me, most reverend Father in Christ, most illustrious
Prince, if I, the very dregs of humanity, have dared to think of
addressing a letter to the eminence of your sublimity. The Lord
Jesus is my witness that, in the consciousness of my own petti
ness and baseness, I have long put off the doing of that which I
have now hardened my forehead to perform, moved thereto most
especially by the sense of that faithful duty which I feel that I
owe to your most reverend Fatherhood in Christ. May your
Highness then in the meanwhile deign to cast your eyes upon
one grain of dust, and, in your pontifical clemency, to understand
my prayer.

Papal indulgences are being carried about, under your most
distinguished authority, for the building of St. Peter's. In
respect of these I do not so much accuse the extravagant sayings
of the preachers, which I have not heard, but I grieve at the
very false ideas which the people conceive from them, and which
are spread abroad in common talk on every side — namely, that
unhappy souls believe that, if they buy letters of indulgences,
they are sure of their salvation ; also, that, as soon as they have
thrown their contribution into the chest, souls forthwith fly out
of purgatory ; and furthermore, that so great is the grace thus
conferred, that there is no sin so great — even, as they say, if, by
an impossibility, any one had violated the Mother of God — but
that it may be pardoned ; and again, that by these indulgences a
man is freed from all punishment and guilt.

O gracious God ! it is thus that the souls committed to your
care, most excellent Father, are being taught unto their death,

261

262 INTRODUCTORY LETTER

and a most severe account, which you will have to render for
all of them, is growing and increasing. Hence I have not been
able to keep silence any longer on this subject, for by no function
of a bishop's office can a man become sure of salvation, since he
does not even become sure through the grace of God infused
into him, but the Apostle bids us to be ever working out our sal
vation in fear and trembling. (Phil. ii. 12.) Even the righteous
man — says Peter — shall scarcely be saved, (i Peter iv. 18.) In
fine, so narrow is the way which leads unto life, that the Lord,
speaking by the prophets Amos and Zachariah, calls those who
are to be saved brands snatched from the burning, and our Lord
everywhere declares the difficulty of salvation.

Why then, by these false stories and promises of pardon, do
the preachers of them make the people to feel secure and without
fear? since indulgences confer absolutely no good on souls as re
gards salvation or holiness, but only take away the outward
penalty which was wont of old to be canonically imposed.

Lastly, works of piety and charity are infinitely better than
indulgences, and yet they do not preach these with such display
or so much zeal ; nay, they keep silence about them for the sake
of preaching pardons. And yet it is the first and sole duty of
all bishops, that the people should learn the Gospel and Christian
charity : for Christ nowhere commands that indulgences should
be preached. What a dreadful thing it is then, what peril to a
bishop, if, while the Gospel is passed over in silence, he permits
nothing but the noisy outcry of indulgences to be spread among
his people, and bestows more care on these than on the Gospel I
Will not Christ say to them: "Straining at a gnat, and swallow
ing a camel " ?

Besides all this, most reverend Father in the Lord, in that
instruction to the commissaries which has been put forth under
the name of your most reverend Fatherhood it is stated — doubt
less without the knowledge and consent of your most reverend
Fatherhood — that one of the principal graces conveyed by in
dulgences is that inestimable gift of God, by which man is recon
ciled to God, and all the pains of purgatory are done away with ;
and further, that contrition is not necessary for those who thus
redeem souls or buy confessional licences.

But what can I do, excellent Primate and most illustrious
Prince, save to entreat your reverend Fatherhood, through the

INTRODUCTORY LETTER 263

Lord Jesus Christ, to deign to turn on us the eye of fatherly
care, and to suppress that advertisement altogether and impose
on the preachers of pardons another form of preaching, lest per
chance some one should at length arise who will put forth
writings in confutation of them and of their advertisements, to
the deepest reproach of your most illustrious Highness. It is
intensely abhorrent to me that this should be done, and yet I fear
that it will happen, unless the evil be speedily remedied.

This faithful discharge of my humble duty I entreat that your
most illustrious Grace will deign to receive in a princely and
bishoplike spirit — that is, with all clemency — even as I offer it
with a most faithful heart, and one most devoted to your most
reverend Fatherhood, since I too am part of your flock. May
the Lord Jesus keep your most reverend Fatherhood for ever
and ever. Amen.

From Wittemberg, on the eve of All Saints, in the year 1517.

If it so please your most reverend Fatherhood, you may look
at these Disputations, that you may perceive how dubious a
matter is that opinion about indulgences, which they disseminate
as if it were most certain.

To your most reverend Fatherhood,

MARTIN LUTHER.

THE NINETY-FIVE THESES

DISPUTATION OF DR. MARTIN LUTHER CONCERNING
PENITENCE AND INDULGENCES

IN the desire and with the purpose of elucidating the
truth, a disputation will be held on the underwritten
propositions at Wittemberg, under the presidency of
the Reverend Father Martin Luther, Monk of the Order of
St. Augustine, Master of Arts and of Sacred Theology, and
ordinary Reader of the same in that place. He therefore
asks those who cannot be present and discuss the subject
with us orally, to do so by letter in their absence. In the
name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. Our Lord and Master Jesus Christ, in saying " Repent
ye," l etc., intended that the whole life of believers should
be penitence.

2. This word cannot be understood of sacramental pen
ance, that is, of the confession and satisfaction which are
performed under the ministry of priests.

3. It does, not, however, refer solely to inward penitence;
nay such inward penitence is naught, unless it outwardly
produces various mortifications of the flesh.

4. The penalty2 thus continues as long as the hatred of
self — that is, true inward penitence — continues: namely, till
our entrance into the kingdom of heaven.

5. The Pope has neither the will nor the power to remit
any penalties, except those which he has imposed by his own
authority, or by that of the canons.

6. The Pope has no power to remit any guilt, except by

1 In the Latin, from the Vulgate, " agite paenitentiam," sometimes trans
lated " Do penance." The effect of the following theses depends to some
extent on the double meaning of " pccnitentia "• — penitence and penance.

* I. e. "Puna," the connection between " fcrna " and " pisnitentia " being
again suggestive.

265

266 LUTHER

declaring and warranting it to have been remitted by God;
or at most by remitting cases reserved for himself; in which
cases, if his power were despised, guilt would certainly re
main.

7. God never remits any man's guilt, without at the same
time subjecting him, humbled in all things, to the authority
of his representative the priest.

8. The penitential canons are imposed only on the living,
and no burden ought to be imposed on the dying, according
to them.

9. Hence the Holy Spirit acting in the Pope does well
for us, in that, in his decrees, he always makes exception of
the article of death and of necessity.

10. Those priests act wrongly and unlearnedly, who, in
the case of the dying, reserve the canonical penances for
purgatory.

11. Those tares about changing of the canonical penalty
into the penalty of purgatory seem surely to have been
sown while the bishops were asleep.

12. Formerly the canonical penalties were imposed not
after, but before absolution, as tests of true contrition.

13. The dying pay all penalties by death, and are already
dead to the canon laws, and are by right relieved from
them.

14. The imperfect soundness or charity of a dying person
necessarily brings with it great fear; and the less it is, the
greater the fear it brings.

15. This fear and horror is sufficient by itself, to say
nothing of other things, to constitute the pains of purgatory,
since it is very near to the horror of despair.

16. Hell, purgatory, and heaven appear to differ as de
spair, almost despair, and peace of mind differ.

17. With souls in purgatory it seems that it must needs
be that, as horror diminishes, so charity increases.

18. Nor does it seem to be proved by any reasoning or
any scriptures, that they are outside of the state of merit
or of the increase of charity.

19. Nor does this appear to be proved, that they are sure
and confident of their own blessedness, at least all of them,
though we may be very sure of it

THE NINETY-FIVE THESES 267

20. Therefore the Pope, when he speaks of the plenary
remission of all penalties, does not mean simply of all, but
only of those imposed by himself.

21. Thus those preachers of indulgences are in error who
say that, by the indulgences of the Pope, a man is loosed
and saved from all punishment.

22. For in fact he remits to souls in purgatory no penalty
which they would have had to pay in this life according to
the canons.

23. If any entire remission of all penalties can be granted
to any one, it is certain that it is granted to none but the
most perfect — that is, to very few.

24. Hence the greater part of the people must needs be
deceived by this indiscriminate and high-sounding promise
of release from penalties.

25. Such power as the Pope has over purgatory in gen
eral, such has every bishop in his own diocese, and every
curate in his own parish, in particular.

26. The Pope acts most rightly in granting remission to
souls, not by the power of the keys (which is of no avail in
this case), but by the way of suffrage.

27. They preach man, who say that the soul flies out of
purgatory as soon as the money thrown into the chest
rattles.

28. It is certain that, when the money rattles in the chest,
avarice and gain may be increased, but the suffrage of the
Church depends on the will of God alone.

29. Who knows whether all the souls in purgatory desire
to be redeemed from it, according to the story told of Saints
Severinus and Paschal?

30. No man is sure of the reality of his own contrition,
much less of the attainment of plenary remission.

31. Rare as is a true penitent, so rare is one who truly
buys indulgences — that is to say, most rare.

32. Those who believe that, through letters of pardon,
they are made sure of their own salvation, will be eternally
damned along with their teachers.

33. We must especially beware of those who say that
these pardons from the Pope are that inestimable gift of
God by which man is reconciled to God.

268 LUTHER

34. For the grace conveyed by these pardons has respect
only to the penalties of sacramental satisfaction, which are
of human appointment.

35. They preach no Christian doctrine, who teach that
contrition is not necessary for those who buy souls out of
purgatory or buy confessional licences.

36. Every Christian who feels true compunction has of
right plenary remission of pain and guilt, even without
letters of pardon.

37. Every true Christian, whether living or dead, has a
share in all the benefits of Christ and of the Church given
him by God, even without letters of pardon.

38. The remission, however, imparted by the Pope is by
no means to be despised, since it is, as I have said, a declara
tion of the Divine remission.

39. It is a most difficult thing, even for the most learned
theologians, to exalt at the same time in the eyes of the
people the ample effect of pardons and the necessity of true
contrition.

40. True contrition seeks and loves punishment ; while the
ampleness of pardons relaxes it, and causes men to hate it, or
at least gives occasion for them to do so.

41. Apostolical pardons ought to be proclaimed with cau
tion, lest the people should falsely suppose that they are
placed before other good works of charity.

42. Christians should be taught that it is not the mind of
the Pope that the buying of pardons is to be in any way
compared to works of mercy.

43. Christians should be taught that he who gives to a
poor man, or lends to a needy man, does better than if he
bought pardons.

44. Because, by a work of charity, charity increases and
the man becomes better ; while, by means of pardons, he
does not become better, but only freer from punishment.

45. Christians should be taught that he who sees any one
in need, and passing him by, gives money for pardons, is
not purchasing for himself the indulgences of the Pope,
but the anger of God.

46. Christians should be taught that, unless they have
superfluous wealth, they are bound to keep what is necessary

THE NINETY-FIVE THESES 269

for the use of their own households, and by no means to
lavish it on pardons.

47. Christians should be taught that, while they are free
to buy pardons, they are not commanded to do so.

48. Christians should be taught that the Pope, in granting
pardons, has both more need and more desire that devout
prayer should be made for him, than that money should be
readily paid.

49. Christians should be taught that the Pope's pardons
are useful, if they do not put their trust in them; but most
hurtful, if through them they lose the fear of God.

50. Christians should be taught that, if the Pope were
acquainted with the exactions of the preachers of pardons,
he would prefer that the Basilica of St. Peter should be
burnt to ashes, than that it should be built up with the skin,
flesh and bones of his sheep.

51. Christians should be taught that, as it would be the
duty, so it would be the wish of the Pope, even to sell, if
necessary, the Basilica of St. Peter, and to give of his own
money to very many of those from whom the preachers of
pardons extract money.

52. Vain is the hope of salvation through letters of par
don, even if a commissary — nay, the Pope himself — were
to pledge his own soul for them.

53. They are enemies of Christ and of the Pope who, in
order that pardons may be preached, condemn the word of
God to utter silence in other churches.

54. Wrong is done to the word of God when, in the same
sermon, an equal or longer time is spent on pardons than
on it.

55. The mind of the Pope necessarily is, that if pardons,
which are a very small matter, are celebrated with single
bells, single processions, and single ceremonies, the Gospel,
which is a very great matter, should be preached with a
hundred bells, a hundred processions, and a hundred cere
monies.

56. The treasures of the Church, whence the Pope grants
indulgences, are neither sufficiently named nor known among
the people of Christ.

57. It is clear that they are at least not temporal treas-

270 LUTHER

ures, for these are not so readily lavished, but only accumu
lated, by many of the preachers.

58. Nor are they the merits of Christ and of the saints,
for these, independently of the Pope, are always working
grace to the inner man, and the cross, death, and hell to the
outer man.

59. St. Lawrence said that the treasures of the Church
are the poor of the Church, but he spoke according to the
use of the word in his time.

60. We are not speaking rashly when we say that the
keys of the Church, bestowed through the merits of Christ,
are that treasure.

61. For it is clear that the power of the Pope is alone suf
ficient for the remission of penalties and of reserved cases.

62. The true treasure of the Church is the Holy Gospel
of the glory and grace of God.

63. This treasure, however, is deservedly most hateful,
because it makes the first to be last.

64. While the treasure of indulgences is deservedly most
acceptable, because it makes the last to be first.

65. Hence the treasures of the gospel are nets, wherewith
of old they fished for the men of riches.

66. The treasures of indulgences are nets, wherewith they
now fish for the riches of men.

67. Those indulgences, which the preachers loudly pro
claim to be the greatest graces, are seen to be truly such as
regards the promotion of gain.

68. Yet they are in reality in no degree to be compared to
the grace of God and the piety of the cross.

69. Bishops and curates are bound to receive the com
missaries of apostolical pardons with all reverence.

70. But they are still more bound to see to it with all
their eyes, and take heed with all their ears, that these
men do not preach their own dreams in place of the Pope's
commission.

71. He who speaks against the truth of apostolical par
dons, let him be anathema and accursed.

72. But he, on the other hand, who exerts himself against
the wantonness and licence of speech of the preachers of
pardons, let him be blessed.

THE NINETY-FIVE THESES 271

73. As the Pope justly thunders against those who use
any kind of contrivance to the injury of the traffic in par-
dor.s,

74. Much more is it his intention to thunder against those
who, under the pretext of pardons, use contrivances to the
injury of holy charity and of truth.

75. To think that Papal pardons have such power that
they could absolve a man even if — by an impossibility —
he had violated the Mother of God, is madness.

76. We affirm, on the contrary, that Papal pardons cannot
take away even the least of venal sins, as regards its guilt.

77. The saying that, even if St. Peter were now Pope,
he could grant no greater graces, is blasphemy against St.
Peter and the Pope.

78. We affirm, on the contrary, that both he and any other
Pope have greater graces to grant — namely, the Gospel,
powers, gifts of healing, etc. (i Cor. xii. 9.)

79. To say that the cross set up among the insignia of
the Papal arms is of equal power with the cross of Christ,
is blasphemy.

80. Those bishops, curates, and theologians who allow
such discourses to have currency among the people, will
have to render an account.

81. This licence in the preaching of pardons makes it no
easy thing, even for learned men, to protect the reverence
due to the Pope against the calumnies, or, at all events, the
keen questionings of the laity.

82. As for instance: — Why does not the Pope empty
purgatory for the sake of most holy charity and of the
supreme necessity of souls — this being the most just of all
reasons — if he redeems an infinite number of souls for the
sake of that most fatal thing, money, to be spent on build
ing a basilica — this being a very slight reason?

83. Again : why do funeral masses and anniversary masses
for the deceased continue, and why does not the Pope re
turn, or permit the withdrawal of the funds bequeathed for
this purpose, since it is a wrong to pray for those who are
already redeemed?

84. Again : what is this new kindness of God and the Pope,
in that, for money's sake, they permit an impious man and

272 LUTHER

an enemy of God to redeem a pious soul which loves God,
and yet do not redeem that same pious and beloved soul,
out of free charity, on account of its own need?

85. Again : why is it that the penitential canons, long since
abrogated and dead in themselves in very fact and not only
by usage, are yet still redeemed with money, through the
granting of indulgences, as if they were full of life,

86. Again : why does not the Pope, whose riches are at
this day more ample than those of the wealthiest of the
wealthy, build the one Basilica of St. Peter with his own
money, rather than with that of poor believers?

87. Again : what does the Pope remit or impart to those
who, through perfect contrition, have a right to plenary re
mission and participation?

88. Again : what greater good would the Church receive
if the Pope, instead of once, as he does now, were to bestow
these remissions and participations a hundred times a day
on any one of the faithful?

89. Since it is the salvation of souls, rather than money,
that the Pope seeks by his pardons, why does he suspend the
letters and pardons granted long ago, since they are equally
efficacious?

90. To repress these scruples and arguments of the laity
by force alone, and not to solve them by giving reasons, is
to expose the Church and the Pope to the ridicule of their
enemies, and to make Christian men unhappy.

91. If, then, pardons were preached according to the
spirit and mind of the Pope, all these questions would be
resolved with ease — nay, would not exist.

92. Away, then, with all those prophets who say to the
people of Christ, " Peace, peace," and there is no peace !

93. Blessed be all those prophets who say to the people of
Christ, " The cross, the cross," and there is no cross !

94. Christians should be exhorted to strive to follow
Christ their Head through pains, deaths, and hells,

95. And thus trust to enter heaven through many tribu
lations, rather than in the security of peace.

THE NINETY-FIVE THESES 273

PROTESTATION

I,' Martin Luther, Doctor, of the Order of Monks at
Wittenberg, desire to testify publicly that certain proposi
tions against pontifical indulgences, as they call them, have
been put forth by me. Now although, up to the present
time, neither this most celebrated and renowned school of
ours, nor any civil or ecclesiastical power has condemned me,
yet there are, as I hear, some men of headlong and audacious
spirit, who dare to pronounce me a heretic, as though the
matter had been thoroughly looked into and studied. But
on my part, as I have often done before, so now too, I im
plore all men, by the faith of Christ, either to point out to
me a better way, if such a way has been divinely revealed
to any, or at least to submit their opinion to the judgment
of God and of the Church. For I am neither so rash as to
wish that my sole opinion should be preferred to that of all
other men, nor so senseless as to be willing that the word
of God should be made to give place to fables, devised by
human reason

DEDICATORY LETTER

To the respected and worthy Nicolaus -von Amsdorff,
Licentiate in the Holy Scriptures and Canon of Wittenberg,1
my particular and affectionate friend.

Dr. Martinus Luther.

THE grace and peace of God be with you, respected, worthy
Sir, and dear friend !

The time for silence is gone, and the time to speak has come,
as we read in Ecclesiastes (iii. 7). I have, in conformity with
our resolve, put together some few points concerning the reforma
tion of the Christian estate, with the intent of placing the same
before the Christian nobility of the German nation, in case it may
please God to help His Church by means of the laity, inasmuch
as the clergy, whom this task rather befitted, have become quite
careless. I send all this to your worship, to judge and to amend
where needed. I am well aware that I shall not escape the re
proach of taking far too much upon me in presuming, insignificant
and forsaken as I am, to address such high estates on such
weighty and great subjects, as if there were no one in the world
but Dr. Luther to have a care for Christianity and to give advice
to such wise people.

Let who will blame me, I shall not offer any excuse. Perhaps
I still owe God and the world another folly. This debt I have
now resolved honestly to discharge, as well as may be, and to be
Court fool for once in my life; if I fail, I shall at any rate gain
this advantage : that no one need buy me a fool's cap or shave
my poll. But it remains to be seen which shall hang the bells on
the other. I must fulfil the proverb, " When anything is to be
done in the world, a monk must be in it, were it only as a
painted figure." I suppose it has often happened that a fool
has spoken wisely, and wise men have often done foolishly, as
St. Paul says, "If any man among you seemeth to be wise in

1 Nicolaus von Amsdorff (1483-1563) was a colleague of Luther at the
university of Wittenberg, and one of his most zealous fellow-workers in
the cause of the .Reformation.

274

DEDICATORY LETTER 275

this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise" (i Cor.
iii. 18).

Now, inasmuch as I am not only a fool, but also a sworn
doctor of the Holy Scriptures, I am glad that I have an oppor
tunity of fulfilling my oath, just in this fool's way. I beg you
to excuse me to the moderately wise, for I know not how to
deserve the favour and grace of the supremely wise, which I
have so often sought with much labour, but now for the future
shall neither have nor regard.

God help us to seek not our glory, but His alone. Amen.

Wittenberg, in the monastry of St. Augustine, on the eve
of St. John the Baptist in the year 1520.

JESUS

ADDRESS TO THE NOBILITY

INTRODUCTION

To his most Serene and Mighty Imperial Majesty and to the
Christian Nobility of the German Nation.

Dr. Martinus Luther.

THE grace and might of God be with you, Most Serene
Majesty, most gracious, well-beloved gentlemen!
It is not out of mere arrogance and perversity that
I, an individual poor man, have taken upon me to address
your lordships. The distress and misery that oppress all
the Christian estates, more especially in Germany, have led
not only myself, but every one else, to cry aloud and to
ask for help, and have now forced me too to cry out and to
ask if God would give His Spirit to any one to reach a hand
to His wretched people. Councils have often put forward
some remedy, but it has adroitly been frustrated, and the
evils have become worse, through the cunning of certain
men. Their malice and wickedness I will now, by the help
of God, expose, so that, being known, they may henceforth
cease to be so obstructive and injurious. God has given us a
young and noble sovereign,2 and by this has roused great
hopes in many hearts ; now it is right that we too should do
what we can, and make good use of time and grace.

The first thing that we must do is to consider the matter
with great earnestness, and, whatever we attempt, not to
trust in our own strength and wisdom alone, even if the
power of all the world were ours ; for God will not endure
that a good work should be begun trusting to our own
strength and wisdom. He destroys it; it is all useless, as
we read in Psalm xxxiii., " There is no king saved by the

* Charles V. was at that time not quite twenty years of age.f

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 277

multitude of a host; a mighty man is not delivered by much
strength." And I fear it is for that reason that those beloved
princes the Emperors Frederick, the First and the Second,
and many other German emperors were, in former times, so
piteously spurned and oppressed by the popes, though they
were feared by all the world. Perchance they trusted rather
in their own strength than in God; therefore they could not
but fall ; and how would the sanguinary tyrant Julius II.
have risen so high in our own days but that, I fear, France,
Germany, and Venice trusted to themselves? The children
of Benjamin slew forty-two thousand Israelites, for this
reason: that these trusted to their own strength (Judges xx.,
etc.).

That such a thing may not happen to us and to our noble
Emperor Charles, we must remember that in this matter
we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against the
rulers of the darkness of this world (Eph. vi. 12), who may
fill the world with war and bloodshed, but cannot themselves
be overcome thereby. We must renounce all confidence in
our natural strength, and take the matter in hand with
humble trust in God ; we must seek God's help with earnest
prayer, and have nothing before our eyes but the misery
and wretchedness of Christendom, irrespective of what pun
ishment the wicked may deserve. If we do not act thus, we
may begin the game with great pomp; but when we are well
in it, the spirits of evil will make such confusion that the
whole world will be immersed in blood, and yet nothing be
done. Therefore let us act in the fear of God and pru
dently. The greater the might of the foe, the greater is the
misfortune, if we do not act in the fear of God and with
humility. If popes and Romanists have hitherto, with the
devil's help, thrown kings into confusion, they may still do
so. if we attempt things with our own strength and skill,
without God's help.

THE THREE WALLS OF THE ROMANISTS

The Romanists have, with great adroitness, drawn three
walls round themselves, with which they have hitherto pro
tected themselves, so that no one could reform them, where
by all Christendom has fallen terribly.

278 LUTHER

Firstly, if pressed by the temporal power, they have
affirmed and maintained that the temporal power has no
jurisdiction over them, but, on the contrary, that the spirit
ual power is above the temporal.

Secondly, if it were proposed to admonish them with
the Scriptures, they objected that no one may interpret the
Scriptures but the Pope.

Thirdly, if they are threatened with a council, they pre
tend that no one may call a council but the Pope.

Thus they have secretly stolen our three rods, so that
they may be unpunished, and intrenched themselves behind
these three walls, to act with all the wickedness and malice,
which we now witness. And whenever they have been
compelled to call a council, they have made it of no avail
by binding the princes beforehand with an oath to leave them
as they were, and to give moreover to the Pope full power
over the procedure of the council, so that it is all one
whether we have many councils or no councils, in addition
to which they deceive us with false pretences and tricks. So
grievously do they tremble for their skin before a true,
free council ; and thus thjey have overawed kings and princes,
that these believe they would be offending God, if they were
not to obey them in all such knavish, deceitful artifices.

Now may God help us, and give us one of those trumpets
that overthrew the walls of Jericho, so that we may blow
down these walls of straw and paper, and that we may set
free our Christian rods for the chastisement of sin, and ex
pose the craft and deceit of the devil, so that we may
amend ourselves by punishment and again obtain God's
favour.

(a) THE FIRST WALL
That the Temporal Power has no Jurisdiction over the

Spiritualty

Let us, in the first place, attack the first wall.
It has been devised that the Pope, bishops, priests, and
monks are called the spiritual estate, princes, lords, artificers,
and peasants are the temporal estate. This is an artful lie
and hypocritical device, but let no one be made afraid by
it, and that for this reason: that all Christians are truly of

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 279

the spiritual estate, and there is no difference among them,
save of office alone. As St. Paul says (i Cor. xii.), we are
all one body, though each member does its own work, to
serve the others. This is because we have one baptism, one
Gospel, one faith, and are all Christians alike ; for baptism,
Gospel, and faith, these alone make spiritual and Christian
people.

As for the unction by a pope or a bishop, tonsure, ordina
tion, consecration, and clothes differing from those of lay
men — all this may make a hypocrite or an anointed puppet,
but never a Christian or a spiritual man. Thus we are all
consecrated as priests by baptism, as St. Peter says : " Ye
are a royal priesthood, a holy nation " (i Peter ii. 9) ; and in
the book of Revelations: "and hast made us unto our God
(by Thy blood) kings and priests" (Rev. v. 10). For, if we
had not a higher consecration in us than pope or bishop can
give, no priest could ever be made by the consecration of
pope or bishop, nor could he say the mass, or preach, or
absolve. Therefore the bishop's consecration is just as if
in the name of the whole congregation he took one person
out of the community, each member of which has equal
power, and commanded him to exercise this power for the
rest; in the same way as if ten brothers, co-heirs as king's
sons, were to choose one from among them to rule over their
inheritance, they would all of them still remain kings and
have equal power, although one is ordered to govern.

And to put the matter even more plainly, if a little com
pany of pious Christian laymen were taken prisoners and
carried away to a desert, and had not among them a priest
consecrated by a bishop, and were there to agree to elect
one of them, born in wedlock or not, and were to order
him to baptise, to celebrate the mass, to absolve, and to
preach, this man would as truly be a priest, as if all the
bishops and all the popes had consecrated him. That is
why in cases of necessity every man can baptise and ab
solve, which would not be possible if we were not all priests.
This great grace and virtue of baptism and of the Christian
estate they have quite destroyed and made us forget by their
ecclesiastical law. In this way the Christians used to choose
their bishops and priests out of the community; these being

280 LUTHER

afterwards confirmed by other bishops, without the pomp
that now prevails. So was it that St. Augustine, Ambrose,
Cyprian, were bishops.

Since, then, the temporal power is baptised as we are,
and has the same faith and Gospel, we must allow it to be
priest and bishop, and account its office an office that is
proper and useful to the Christian community. For what
ever issues from baptism may boast that it has been con
secrated priest, bishop, and pope, although it does not be
seem every one to exercise these offices. For, since we
are all priests alike, no man may put himself forward or
take upon himself, without our consent and election, to do
that which we have all alike power to do. For, if a thing
is common to all, no man may take it to himself without
the wish and command of the community. And if it should
happen that a man were appointed to one of these offices and
deposed for abuses, he would be just what he was before.
Therefore a priest should be nothing in Christendom but a
functionary ; as long as he holds his office, he has precedence
of others; if he is deprived of it, he is a peasant or a citi
zen like the rest. Therefore a priest is verily no longer
a priest after deposition. But now they have invented
characteres indelebiles? and pretend that a priest after de
privation still differs from a simple layman. They even
imagine that a priest can never be anything but a priest —
that is, that he can never become a layman. All this is
nothing but mere talk and ordinance of human invention.

If follows, then, that between laymen and priests, princes
and bishops, or, as they call it, between spiritual and tem
poral persons, the only real difference is one of office and
function, and not of estate; for they are all of the same
spiritual estate, true priests, bishops, and popes, though their
functions are not the same — just as among priests and monks
every man has not the same functions. And this, as I said
above, St. Paul says (Rom. xii. ; I Cor. xii. ), and St. Peter
(i Peter ii.) : "We, being many, are one body in Christ,
and severally members one of another." Christ's body is

8 In accordance with a doctrine of the Roman Catholic Church, the act of
ordination impresses upon the priest an indelible character; so that he im
mutably retains the sacred dignity of priesthood.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 281

not double or twofold, one temporal, the other spiritual. He
is one Head, and He has one body.

We see, then, that just as those that we call spiritual,
or priests, bishops, or popes, do not differ from other Chris
tians in any other or higher degree but in that they are to
be concerned with the word of God and the sacraments —
that being their work and office — in the same way the tem
poral authorities hold the sword and the rod in their hands
to punish the wicked and to protect the good. A cobbler,
a smith, a peasant, every man, has the office and function
o" his calling, and yet all alike are consecrated priests and
bishops, and every man should by his office or function be
useful and beneficial to the rest, so that various kinds of
work may all be united for the furtherance of body and soul,
just as the members of the body all serve one another.

Now see what a Christian doctrine is this : that the
temporal authority is not above the clergy, and may not
punish it. This is as if one were to say the hand may not
help, though the eye is in grievous suffering. Is it not
unnatural, not to say unchristian, that one member may not
help another, or guard it against harm ? Nay. the nobler
the member, the 'nore the rest are bound to help it. There
fore I say, Forasmuch as the temporal power has been
ordained by God for the punishment of the bad and the
protection of the good, therefore we must let it do its duty
throughout the whole Christian body, without respect of
persons, whether it strikes popes, bishops, priests, monks,
nuns, or whoever it may be. If it were sufficient reason
for fettering the temporal power that it is inferior among
the offices of Christianity to the offices of priest or confessor,
or to the spiritual estate — if this were so, then we ought to
restrain tailors, cobblers, masons, carpenters, cooks, cellar-
men, peasants, and all secular workmen, from providing the
Pope or bishops, priests and monks, with shoes, clothes,
houses or victuals, or from paying them tithes. But if
these laymen are allowed to do their work without restraint,
what do the Romanist scribes mean by their laws? They
mean that they withdraw themselves from the operation of
temporal Christian power, simply in order that they may be
free to do evil, and thus fulfil what St. Peter said : " There

282 LUTHER

shall be false teachers among you, . . . and in covetous-
ness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of
you" (2 Peter ii. i, etc.).

Therefore the temporal Christian power must exercise its
office without let or hindrance, without considering whom it
may strike, whether pope, or bishop, or priest: whoever is
guilty, let him suffer for it.

Whatever the ecclesiastical law has said in opposition to
this is merely the invention of Romanist arrogance. For
this is what St. Paul says to all Christians : " Let every
soul" (I presume including the popes) "be subject unto the
higher powers ; for they bear not the sword in vain : they
serve the Lord therewith, for vengeance on evildoers and
for praise to them that do well" (Rom. xiii. 1-4). Also
St. Peter : " Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man
for the Lord's sake, . . . for so is the will of God "
(i Peter ii. 13, 15). He has also foretold that men would
come who should despise government (2 Peter ii.), as has
come to pass through ecclesiastical law.

Now, I imagine, the first paper wall is overthrown,
inasmuch as the temporal power has become a member of
the Christian body ; although its work relates to the body,
yet does it belong to the spiritual estate. Therefore it must
do its duty without let or hindrance upon all members of
the whole body, to punish or urge, as guilt may deserve, or
need may require, without respect of pope, bishops, or priests,
let them threaten or excommunicate as they will. That is
why a guilty priest is deprived of his priesthood before being
given over to the secular arm ; whereas this would not be
right, if the secular sword had not authority over him
already by Divine ordinance.

It is, indeed, past bearing that the spiritual law should
esteem so highly the liberty, life, and property of the clergy,
as if laymen were not as good spiritual Christians, or not
equally members of the Church. Why should your body,
life, goods, and honour be free, and not mine, seeing that
we are equal as Christians, and have received alike -baptism,
faith, spirit, and all things? If a priest is killed, the country
Is laid under an interdict*: why not also if a peasant is

*By the Interdict, or general excommunication, whole countries, districts,

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 283

killed? Whence comes this great difference among equal
Christians? Simply from human laws and inventions.

It can have been no good spirit, either, that devised these
evasions and made sin to go unpunished. For if, as Christ
and the Apostles bid us, it is our duty to oppose the evil
one and all his works and words, and to drive him away as
well as may be, how then should we remain quiet and be
silent when the Pope and his followers are guilty of devil-
;sh works and words? Are we for the sake of men to
allow the commandments and the truth of God to be
defeated, which at our baptism we vowed to support with
body and soul? Truly we should have to answer for all
souls that would thus be abandoned and led astray.

Therefore it must have been the arch-devil himself who
said, as we read in the ecclesiastical law, If the Pope were
so perniciously wicked, as to be dragging souls in crowds
to the devil, yet he could not be deposed. This is the
accursed and devilish foundation on which they build at
Rome, and think that the whole world is to be allowed to go
to the devil rather than they should be opposed in their knav
ery. If a man were to escape punishment simply because he
is above the rest, then no Christian might punish another,
since Christ has commanded each of us to esteem himself
the lowest and the humblest (Matt, xviii. 4; Luke ix. 48).

Where there is sin, there remains no avoiding the punish
ment, as St. Gregory says, We are all equal, but guilt makes
one subject to another. Now let us see how they deal
with Christendom. They arrogate to themselves immunities
without any warrant from the Scriptures, out of their own
wickedness, whereas God and the Apostles made them
subject to the secular sword; so that we must fear that it is
the work of antichrist, or a sign of his near approach.

(&) THE SECOND WALL
That no one may interpret the Scriptures but the Pope

The second wall is even more tottering and weak : that
they alone pretend to be considered masters of the Scrip-

or towns, or their respective rulers, were deprived of all the spiritual bene
fits of the Church, such as Divine service, the administering of the sacra
ments, etc.

284 LUTHER

tures ; although they learn nothing of them all their life.
They assume authority, and juggle before us with impudent
words, saying that the Pope cannot err in matters of faith,
whether he be evil or good, albeit they cannot prove it by a
single letter. That is why the canon law contains so many
heretical and unchristian, nay unnatural, laws; but of these
we need not speak now. For whereas they imagine the
Holy Ghost never leaves them, however unlearned and
wicked they may be, they grow bold enough to decree what
ever they like. But were this true, where were the need
and use of the Holy Scriptures? Let us burn them, and
content ourselves with the unlearned gentlemen at Rome,
in whom the Holy Ghost dwells, who, however, can dwell
in pious souls only. If I had not read it, I could never have
believed that the devil should have put forth such follies
at Rome and find a following.

But not to fight them with our own words, we will quote
the Scriptures. St. Paul says, " If anything be revealed to
another that sitteth by, let the first hold his peace " ( i Cor.
xiv. 30). What would be the use of this commandment, if
we were to believe him alone that teaches or has the highest
seat? Christ Himself says, "And they shall be all taught
of God." (St. John vi. 45). Thus it may come to pass
that the Pope and his followers are wicked and not true
Christians, and not being taught by God, have no true un
derstanding, whereas a common man may have true under
standing. Why should we then not follow him? Has not
the Pope often erred? Who could help Christianity, in
case the Pope errs, if we do not rather believe another who
has the Scriptures for him ?

Therefore it is a wickedly devised fable — and they can
not quote a single letter to confirm it — that it is for the
Pope alone to interpret the Scriptures or to confirm the
interpretation of them. They have assumed the authority
of their own selves. And though they say that this authority
was given to St. Peter when the keys were given to him, it
is plain enough that the keys were not given to St. Peter
alone, but to the whole community. Besides, the keys were
not ordained for doctrine or authority, but for sin, to bind
or loose; and what they claim besides this from the keys is

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 285

mere invention. But what Christ said to St. Peter: "I have
prayed for thee that thy faith fail not" (St. Luke xxii.
32), cannot relate to the Pope, inasmuch as the greater part
of the Popes have been without faith, as they are them
selves forced to acknowledge ; nor did Christ pray for Peter
alone, but for all the Apostles and all Christians, as He
.says, " Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also
which shall believe on Me through their word" (St. John
xvii.). Is not this plain enough?

Only consider the matter. They must needs acknowledge
that there are pious Christians among us that have the true
faith, spirit, understanding, word, and mind of Christ: why
then should we reject their word and understanding, and
follow a pope who has neither understanding nor spirit?
Surely this were to deny our whole faith and the Christian
Church. Moreover, if the article of our faith is right, " I
believe in the holy Christian Church," the Pope cannot alone
be right; else we must say, " I believe in the Pope of Rome,"
and reduce the Christian Church to one man, which is a
devilish and damnable heresy. Besides that, we are all
priests, as I have said, and have all one faith, one Gospel,
one Sacrament ; how then should we not have the power
of discerning and judging what is right or wrong in matters
of faith? What becomes of St. Paul's words, " But he that
is spiritual judgeth all things, yet he himself is judged of no
man" (i Cor. ii. 15), and also, "we having the same spirit
of faith"? (2 Cor. iv. 13). Why then should we not per
ceive as well as an unbelieving pope what agrees or disagrees
with our faith?

By these and many other texts we should gain courage
and freedom, and should not let the spirit of liberty (as St.
Paul has it) be frightened away by the inventions of the
popes; we should boldly judge what they do and what they
leave undone by our own believing understanding of the
Scriptures, and force them to follow the better understand
ing, and not their own. Did not Abraham in old days have
to obey his Sarah, who was in stricter bondage to him than
we are to any one on earth? Thus, too, Balaam's ass was
wiser than the prophet. If God spoke by an ass against a
prophet, why should He not speak by a pious man against

286 LUTHER

the Pope? Besides, St. Paul withstood St. Peter as being
in error (Gal. ii.). Therefore it behoves every Christian
to aid the faith by understanding and defending it and by
condemning all errors.

(c) THE THIRD WALL
That no one may call a council but the Pope

The third wall falls of itself, as soon as the first two have
fallen; for if the Pope acts contrary to the Scriptures, we
are bound to stand by the Scriptures, to punish and to con
strain him, according to Christ's commandment, " Moreover,
if thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and tell him
his fault between thee and him alone; if he shall hear thee,
thou hast gained thy brother. But if he will not hear thee,
then take with thee one or two more, that in the mouth of
two or three witnesses every word may be established. And
if he shall neglect to hear them, tell it unto the Church;
but if he neglect to hear the Church, let him be unto thee
as a heathen man and a publican" (St. Matt, xviii. 15-17).
Here each member is commanded to take care for the other ;
much more then should we do this, if it is a ruling member
of the community -that does evil, which by its evil-doing
causes great harm and offence to the others. If then I am
to accuse him before the Church, I must collect the Church
together. Moreover, they can show nothing in the Scrip
tures giving the Pope sole power to call and confirm coun
cils; they have nothing but their own laws; but these hold
good only so long as they are not injurious to Christianity
and the laws of God. Therefore, if the Pope deserves pun
ishment, these laws cease to bind us, since Christendom
would suffer, if he were not punished by a council. Thus
we read (Acts xv.) that the council of the Apostles was
not called by St. Peter, but by all the Apostles and the elders.
But if the right to call it had lain with St. Peter alone, it
would not have been a Christian council, but a heretical
conciliabulum. Moreover, the most celebrated council of
all — that of Nicaea — was neither called nor confirmed by the
Bishop of Rome, but by the Emperor Constantine ; and after
him many other emperors have done the same, and yet the

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 287

councils called by them were accounted most Christian. But
if the Pope alone had the power, they must all have been
heretical. Moreover, if I consider the councils that the
Pope has called, I do not find that they produced any nota
ble results.

Therefore when need requires, and the Pope is a cause of
offence to Christendom, in these cases whoever can best do
so, as a faithful member of the whole body, must do what
he can to procure a true free council. This no one can do
so well as the temporal authorities, especially since they are
fellow-Christians, fellow-priests, sharing one spirit and one
power in all things, and since they should exercise the office
that they have received from God without hindrance, when
ever it is necessary and useful that it should be exercised.
Would it not be most unnatural, i" a fire were to break out
in a city, and every one were to keep still and let it burn on
and on, whatever might be burnt, simply because they had
not the mayor's authority, or because the fire perchance
broke out at the mayor's house? Is not every citizen bound
in this case to rouse and call .' : the rest? How much more
should this be done in the spiritual city of Christ, if a fire
of offence breaks out, either at the Pope's government or
wherever it may! The like happens if an enemy attacks a
town. The first to rouse up the rist earns glory and thanks.
Why then should not he earn glory that descries the coming
of our enemies from hell and rouses and summons all
Christians?

But as for their boasts of their authority, that no one
must oppose it, this is idle talk. No one in Christendom
has any authority to do harm, or to forbid others to prevent
harm being done. There is no authority in the Church
but for reformation. Therefore if the Pope wished to
use his power to prevent the calling of a free council, so
as to prevent the reformation of the Church, we must not
respect him or his power; and if he should begin to ex
communicate and fulminate, we must despise this as the
doings of a madman, and, trusting in God, excommunicate
and repel him as best we may. For this his usurped power
is nothing; he does not possess it, and he is at once over
thrown by a text from the Scriptures. For St. Paul says

288 LUTHER

to the Corinthians " that God has given us authority for
edification, and not for destruction" (2 Cor. x. 8). Who
will set this text at nought? It is the power of the devil
and of antichrist that prevents what would serve for the
reformation of Christendom. Therefore we must not follow
it, but oppose it with our body, our goods, and all that we
have. And even if a miracle were to happen in favour of
the Pope against the temporal power, or if some were to be
stricken by a plague, as they sometimes boast has happened,
all this is to be held as having been done by the devil in
order to injure our faith in God, as was foretold by Christ:
" There shall arise false Christs and false prophets, and
shall show great signs and wonders, insomuch that, if it
were possible, they shall deceive the very elect" (Matt,
xxiv. 23) ; and St. Paul tells the Thessalonians that the
coming of antichrist shall be " after the working of Satan
with all power and signs and lying wonders " (2
Thess. ii. 9).

Therefore let us hold fast to this: that Christian power
can do nothing against Christ, as St. Paul says, " For we
can do nothing against Christ, but for Christ " (2 Cor.
xiii. 8). But, if it does anything against Christ, it is the
power of antichrist and the devil, even if it rained and
hailed wonders and plagues. Wonders and plagues prove
nothing, especially in these latter evil days, of which false
wonders are foretold in all the Scriptures. Therefore we
must hold fast to the words of God with an assured faith;
then the devil will soon cease his wonders.

And now I hope the false, lying spectre will be laid
with which the Romanists have long terrified and stupefied
our consciences. And it will be seen that, like all the rest
of us, they are subject to the temporal sword ; that they have
no authority to interpret the Scriptures by force without
skill ; and that they have no power to prevent a council,
or to pledge it in accordance with their pleasure, or to bind
it beforehand, and deprive it of its freedom ; and that if they
do this, they are verily of the fellowship of antichrist and the
devil, and have nothing of Christ but the name.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 289

OF THE MATTERS TO BE CONSIDERED IN THE
COUNCILS

Let us now consider the matters which should be treated
in the councils, and with which popes, cardinals, bishops,
and all learned men should occupy themselves day and
night, if they love Christ and His Church. But if they do
not do so, the people at large and the temporal powers must
do so, without considering the thunders of their excom
munications. For an unjust excommunication is better than
ten just absolutions, and an unjust absolution is worse than
ten just excommunications. Therefore let us rouse our
selves, fellow-Germans, and fear God more than man, that
we be not answerable for all the poor souls that are so
miserably lost through the wicked, devilish government of
the Romanists, and that the dominion of the devil should
not grow day by day, if indeed this hellish government can
grow any worse, which, for my part, I can neither conceive
nor believe.

i. It is a distressing and terrible thing to see that the
head of Christendom, who boasts of being the vicar of
Christ and the successor of St. Peter, lives in a worldly
pomp that no king or emperor can equal, so that in him
that calls himself most holy and most spiritual there is
more worldliness than in the world itself. He wears a
triple crown, whereas the mightiest kings only wear one
crown. If this resembles the poverty of Christ and St.
Peter, it is a new sort of resemblance. They prate of its
being heretical to object to this; nay, they will not even
hear how unchristian and ungodly it is. But I thijik
that if he should have to pray to God with tears, he would
have to lay down his crowns; for God will not endure any
arrogance. His office should be nothing else than to
weep and pray constantly for Christendom and to be an
example of all humility.

However this may be, this pomp is a stumbling-block,
and the Pope, for the very salvation of his soul, ought to
put it off, for St. Paul says, " Abstain from all appear
ance of evil" (i Thess. v. 21), and again, "Provide things

HC XXXVI (j)

290 LUTHER

honest in the sight of all men" (2 Cor. viii. 21). A simple
mitre would be enough for the pope : wisdom and sanctity
should raise him above the rest; the crown of pride
he should leave to antichrist, as his predecessors did
some hundreds of years ago. They say, He is the ruler
of the world. This is false; for Christ, whose vicegerent
and vicar he claims to be, said to Pilate, " My kingdom is
not of this world" (John xviii. 36). But no vicegerent
can have a wider dominion than his Lord, nor is he
a vicegerent of Christ in His glory, but of Christ cruci
fied, as St. Paul says, " For I determined not to know
anything among you save Jesus Christ, and Him cruci
fied" (2 Cor. ii. 2), and "Let this mind be in you, which
was also in Christ Jesus, who made Himself of no repu
tation, and took upon Himself the form of a servant "
(Phil. ii. 5, 7). Again, "We preach Christ crucified"
(i Cor. i.). Now they make the Pope a vicegerent of
Christ exalted in heaven, and some have let the devil
rule them so thoroughly that they have maintained that
the Pope is above the angels in heaven and has power
over them, which is precisely the true work of the true
antichrist.

2. What is the use in Christendom of the people called
" cardinals " ? I will tell you. In Italy and Germany
there are many rich convents, endowments, fiefs, and bene
fices, and as the best way of getting these into the hands
of Rome, they created cardinals, and gave them the sees,
convents, and prelacies, and thus destroyed the service of
God. That is why Italy is almost a desert now : the con
vents are destroyed, the sees consumed, the revenues of the
prelacies and of all the churches drawn to Rome ; towns
are decayed, the country and the people ruined, because
there is no more any worship of God or preaching; why?
Because the cardinals must have all the wealth. No Turk
could have thus desolated Italy and overthrown the worship
of God.

Now that Italy is sucked dry, they come to Germany and
begin very quietly; but if we look on quietly Germany
will soon be brought into the same state as Italy. We have
a few cardinals already. What the Romanists mean thereby

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 291

the drunken Germans5 are not to see until they have
lost everything — bishoprics, convents, benefices, fiefs, even
to their last farthing. Antichrist must take the riches of the
earth, as it is written (Dan. xi. 8, 39, 43). They begin by tak
ing off the cream of the bishoprics, convents and fiefs; and
as they do not dare to destroy everything as they have done
in Italy, they employ such holy cunning to join together ten
or twenty prelacies, and take such a portion of each an
nually that the total amounts to a considerable sum. The
priory of \Yurzburg gives one thousand guilders ; those of
Bamberg, Mayence, Treves, and others also contribute. In
this way they collect one thousand or ten thousand guilders,
in order that a cardinal may live at Rome in a state like
that of a wealthy monarch.

After we have gained this, we will create thirty or forty
cardinals on one dav, and give one St. Michael's Mount,*
near Bamberg. and likewise the see of Wiirzburg, to which
belong some rich benefices, until the churches and the cities
are desolated : and then we shall say, We are the vicars
of Christ, the shepherds of Christ's flocks ; those mad,
drunken Germans must submit to it. I advise, however, that
there be made fewer cardinals, or that the Pope should have
to support them out of his own purse. It would be amply
sufficient if there were twelve, and if each of them had an
annual income of one thousand guilders.

What has brought us Germans to such a pass that we
have to suffer this robbery and this destruction of our prop
erty by the Pope? If the kingdom of France has resisted it,
why do we Germans suffer ourselves to be fooled and de
ceived? It would be more endurable if they did nothing
but rob us of our property; but they destroy the Church
and deprive Christ's flock of their good shepherds, and over
throw the service and word of God. Even if there were
no cardinals at all, the Church would not perish, for they
do nothing for the good of Christendom; all they do is to
traffic in and quarrel about prelacies and bishoprics, which
any robber could do as well.

5 The epithet "drunken" was formerly often applied by the Italians to
the Germans.

• Luther alludes here to the Benedictine convent standing on the Monch-
berg, or St. Michael's Mount.

292 LUTHER

3. If we took away ninety-nine parts of the Pope's Court
and only left one hundredth, it would still be large enough
to answer questions on matters of belief. Now there is such
a swarm of vermin at Rome, all called papal, that Babylon
itself never saw the like. There are more than three thou
sand papal secretaries alone ; but who shall count the other
office-bearers, since there are so many offices that we can
scarcely count them, and all waiting for German benefices,
as wolves wait for a flock of sheep? I think Germany now
pays more to the Pope than it formerly paid the emperors ;
nay, some think more than three hundred thousand guilders
are sent from Germany to Rome every year, for nothing
whatever; and in return we are scoffed at and put to shame.
Do we still wonder why princes, noblemen, cities, founda
tions, convents, and people grow poor? We should rather
wonder that we have anything left to eat.

Now that we have got well into our game, let us pause
a while and show that the Germans are not such fools as
not to perceive or understand this Romish trickery. I do
not here complain that God's commandments and Christian
justice are despised at Rome; for the state of things in
Christendom, especially at Rome, is too bad for us to
complain of such high matters. Nor do I even com
plain that no account is taken of natural or secular
justice and reason. The mischief lies still deeper. I
complain that they do not observe their own fabricated
canon law, though this is in itself rather mere tyranny,
avarice, and worldly pomp, than a law. This we shall
now show.

Long ago the emperors and princes of Germany allowed
the Pope to claim the annates'' from all German benefices;
that is, half of the first year's income from every benefice.
The object of this concession was that the Pope should
collect a fund with all this money to fight against the
Turks and infidels, and to protect Christendom, so that the
nobility should not have to bear the burden of the struggle
alone, and that the priests should also contribute. The
popes have made such use of this good simple piety of the

7 The duty of paying annates to the Pope was established by John XXII.
in 1319.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 293

Germans that they have taken this money for more than one
hundred years, and have now made of it a regular tax and
duty ; and not only have they accumulated nothing, but they
have founded out of it many posts and offices at Rome, which
are paid by it yearly, as out of a ground-rent.

Whenever there is any pretence of fighting the Turks,
they send out some commission for collecting money, and
often send out indulgences under the same pretext of fight
ing the Turks. They think we Germans will always remain
such great and inveterate fools that we will go on giving
money to satisfy their unspeakable greed, though we see
plainly that neither annatcs, nor absolution money, nor any
other — not one farthing — goes against the Turks, but all
goes into the bottomless sack. They lie and deceive, form
and make covenants with us, of which they do not mean to
keep one jot. And all this is done in the holy name of
Christ and St. Peter.

This being so, the German nation, the bishops and princes,
should remember that they are Christians, and should defend
the people, who are committed to their government and
protection in temporal and spiritual affairs, from these raven
ous wolves in sheep's clothing that profess to be shepherds
and rulers; and since the annatcs are so shamefully abused,
and the covenants concerning them not carried out, they
should not suffer their lands and people to be so piteously
and unrighteously flayed and ruined ; but by an imperial
or a national law they should either retain the annatcs
in the country, or abolish them altogether. For since they
do not keep to the covenants, they have no right to the
annatcs; therefore bishops and princes are bound to punish
this thievery and robbery, or prevent it, as justice demands.
And herein should they assist and strengthen the Pope, who
is perchance too weak to prevent this scandal by himself,
or, if he wishes to protect or support it, restrain and op
pose him as a wolf and tyrant; for he has no authority
to do evil or to protect evil-doers. Even if it were proposed
to collect any such treasure for use against the Turks, we
should be wise in future, and remember that the German
nation is more fitted to take charge of it than the Pope,
seeing that the German nation by itself is able to provide

294 LUTHER

men enough, if the money is forthcoming. This matter of
the annates is like many other Romish pretexts.

Moreover, the year has been divided among the Pope
and the ruling bishops and foundations in such wise thai
the Pope has taken every other month — six in all — to give
away the benefices that fall in his month ; in this way almost
all the benefices are drawn into the hands of Rome, and
especially the best livings and dignities. And those that once
fall into the hands of Rome never come out again, even if
they never again fall vacant in the Pope's month. In this
way the foundations come very short of their rights, and it is
a downright robbery, the object of which is not to give up
anything again. Therefore it is now high time to abolish
the Pope's months and to take back again all that has thereby
fallen into the hands of Rome. For all the princes and nobles
should insist that the stolen property shall be returned, the
thieves punished, and that those who abuse their powers
shall be deprived of them. If the Pope can make a law on
the day after his election by which he takes our benefices
and livings to which he has no right, the Emperor Charles
should so much the more have a right to issue a law for all
Germany on the day after his coronation8 that in future no
livings and benefices are to fall to Rome by virtue of the
Pope's month, but that those that have so fallen are to be
freed and taken from the Romish robbers. This right he pos
sesses authoritatively by virtue of his temporal sword.

But the see of avarice and robbery at Rome is unwilling
to wait for the benefices to fall in one after another by means
of the Pope's month ; and in order to get them into its insati
able maw as speedily as possible, they have devised the plan
of taking livings and benefices in three other ways : —

First, if the incumbent of a free living dies at Rome or on
his way thither, his living remains for ever the property of
the see of Rome, or I rather should say, the see of robbers,
though they will not let us call them robbers, although no one
has ever heard or read of such robbery.

Secondly, if a " servant " of the Pope or of one of the
cardinals takes a living, or if, having a living, he becomes a

•At the time when the above was written — June, 15*0 — the Emperor
Charles bad been elected, but not yet crowned.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 295

"servant" of the Pope or of a cardinal, the living remains
with Rome. But who can count the " servants "of the Pope
and his cardinals, seeing that if he goes out riding, he is
attended by three or four thousand mule-riders, more than
any king or emperor? For Christ and St. Peter went on foot,
in order that their vicegerents might indulge the better in all
manner of pomp. Besides, their avarice has devised and
invented this: that in foreign countries also there are many
called " papal servants," as at Rome ; so that in all parts this
single crafty little word " papal servant " brings all benefices
to the chair at Rome, and they are kept there for ever. Are
not these mischievous, devilish devices? Let us only wait
a while. Mayence, Magdeburg, and Halberstadt will fall very
nicely to Rome, and we shall have to pay dearly for our
cardinal.8 Hereafter all the German bishops will be made
cardinals, so that there shall remain nothing to ourselves.

Thirdly, whenever there is any dispute about a benefice ;
and this is, I think, well-nigh the broadest and commonest
road by which benefices are brought to Rome. For where
there is no dispute numberless knaves can be found at Rome
who are ready to scrape up disputes, and attack livings wher
ever they like. In this way many a good priest loses his liv
ing, or has to buy off the dispute for a time with a sum of
money. These benefices, confiscated by right or wrong of
dispute, are to be for ever the property of the see of Rome.
It would be no wonder, if God were to rain sulphur and fire
from heaven and cast Rome down into the pit, as He did
formerly to Sodom and Gomorrah. What is the use of a
pope in Christendom, if the only use made of his power is
to commit these supreme villainies under his protection and
assistance? Oh noble princes and sirs, how long will you
suffer your lands and your people to be the prey of these
ravening wolves?

But these tricks did not suffice, and bishoprics were too
slow in falling into the power of Roman avarice. Accord-

• Luther alludes here to the Archbishop Albert of Mayence, who was,
besides, Archbishop of Magdeburg and administrator of the bishopric of
Halberstadt. In order to be able to defray the expense of the archiepis-
copal tax due to Rome, amounting to thirty thousand guilders, he had
farmed the sale of the Pope's indulgences, employing the notorious Tetzel
as his agent and sharing the profits with the Pope. In 1518 Albert was ap
pointed cardinal. See Ranke, Deutsclit Gtschichtf, etc., vol. i., p. 309, etc.

296 LUTHER

ingly our good friend Avarice made the discovery that all
bishoprics are abroad in name only, but that their land and
soil is at Rome; from this it follows that no bishop may be
confirmed until he has bought the " Pall "10 for a large sum,
and has with a terrible oath bound himself a servant of the
Pope. That is why no bishop dare oppose the Pope. This
was the object of the oath, and this is how the wealthiest
bishoprics have come to debt and ruin. Mayence, I am told,
pays twenty thousand guilders. These are true Roman tricks,
it seems to me. It is true that they once decreed in the
canon law that the Pall should be given free, the number of
the Pope's servants diminished, disputes made less frequent,
that foundations and bishops should enjoy their liberty; but
all this brought them no money. They have therefore re
versed all this: bishops and foundations have lost all their
power ; they are mere ciphers, without office, authority,' or
function; all things are regulated by the chief knaves at
Rome, even the offices of sextons and bell-ringers in all
churches. All disputes are transferred to Rome; each one
does what he will, strong through the Pope's power.

What has happened in this very year? The Bishop of
Strasburg, wishing to regulate his see in a proper way and
reform it in the matter of Divine service, published some
Divine and Christian ordinances for that purpose. But our
worthy Pope and the holy chair at Rome overturn altogether
this holy and spiritual order on the requisition of the priests.
This is what they call being the shepherd of Christ's sheep —
supporting priests against their own bishops and protecting
their disobedience by Divine decrees. Antichrist, I hope,
will not insult God in this open way. There you have the
Pope, as you have chosen to have him; and why? Why,
because if the Church were to be reformed, there would be
danger that it would spread further, so that it might also
reach Rome. Therefore it is better to prevent priests from
being at one with each other; they should rather, as they
have done hitherto, sow discord among kings and princes,
and flood the world with Christian blood, lest Christian unity
should trouble the holy Roman see with reforms.

10 The Pallium was since the fourth century the symbol of archiepiscopal
power, and had to be redeemed from the Pope by means of a large sum
of money and a solemn oath of obedience.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 297

So far we have seen what they do with the livings that
fall vacant. Now there are not enough vacancies for this
delicate greed ; therefore it has also taken prudent account
of the benefices that are still held by their incumbents, so
that they may become vacant, though they are in fact not
vacant, and this they effect in many ways.

First, they lie in wait for fat livings or sees which are
held by an old or sick man, or even by one afflicted by an
imaginary incompetence ; him the Roman see gives a coad
jutor, that is an assistant without his asking or wishing it,
for the benefit of the coadjutor, becauce he is a papal serv
ant, or pays for the office, or has otherwise earned, it by
some menial service rendered to Rome. Thus there is an
end of free election on the part of the chapter, or of the
right of him who had presented to the living; and all goes
to Rome.

Secondly, there is a little word: commcndam, that is,
when the Pope gives a rich and fat convent or church into
the charge of a cardinal or any other of his servants,
just as I might command you to take charge of one hundred
guilders for me. In this way the convent is neither given,
nor lent, nor destroyed, nor is its Divine service abolished,
but only entrusted to a man's charge, not, however, for him
to protect and improve it, but to drive out the one he finds
there, to take the property and revenue, and to install some
apostate11 runaway monk, who is paid five or six guilders
a year, and sits in the church all day and sells symbols and
pictures to the pilgrims ; so that neither chanting nor reading
in the church goes on there any more. Now if we were to
call this the destruction of convents and abolition of Divine
service we should be obliged to accuse the Pope of destroy
ing Christianity and abolishing Divine service — for truly he
is doing this effectually — but this would be thought harsh
language at Rome; therefore it is called a commcndam, or
an order to take charge of the convent. In this way the
Pope can make commcndams of four or more convents a
year, any one of which produces a revenue of more than
six thousand guilders. This is the way Divine service is

u Monks who forsook their order without any legal dispensation were
called " apostates."

298 LUTHER

advanced and convents kept up at Rome. This will be
introduced into Germany as well.

Thirdly, there are certain benefices that are said to be
incompatible; that is, they may not be held together ac
cording to the canon law, such as two cures, two sees, and
the like. Now the Holy See and avarice twists itself out of
the canon law by making " glosses," or interpretations, called
Unio, or Incorporatio; that is, several incompatible benefices
are incorporated, so that one is a member of the other, and
the whole is held to be one benefice : then they are no
longer incompatible, and we have got rid of the holy canon
law, so that it is no longer binding, except on those who do
not buy those glosses of the Pope and his Datarius.1* Unio is
of the same kind: a number of benefices are tied together
like a bundle of faggots, and on account of this coupling
together they are held to be one benefice. Thus there may
be found many a " courtling " at Rome who alone holds
twenty-two cures, seven priories, and forty-four prebends,
all which is done in virtue of this masterly gloss, so as not
to be contrary to law. Any one can imagine what cardinals
and other prelates may hold. In this way the Germans are
to have their purses emptied and their conceit taken out of
them.

There is another gloss called Administratio; that is, that
besides his see a man holds an abbey or other high benefice,
and possesses all the property of it, without any other title
but administrator. For at Rome it is enough that words
should change, and not deeds, just as if I said, a procuress
was to be called a mayoress, yet may remain as good as she
is now. Such Romish rule was foretold by St. Peter, when
he said, " There shall be false teachers among you, . . .
and through covetousness shall they with feigned words
make merchandise of you " (2 Peter ii. I, 3).

This precious Roman avarice has also invented the prac
tice of selling and lending prebends and benefices on con
dition that the seller or lender has the reversion, so that
if the incumbent dies, the benefice falls to him that has sold

MThe papal office for the issue and registration of certain documents was
called Dataria, from the phrase appended to them, Datum apud S. Petrum.
The chief of that office, usually a cardinal, bore the title of Datarius, or
Prodatarius.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 29S

it, lent it, or abandoned it; in this way they have made
benefices heritable property, so that none can come to hold
them unless the seller sells them to him, or leaves them to
him at his death. Then there are many that give a benefice
to another in name only, and on condition that he shall
not receive a farthing. It is now, too, an old practice for a
man to give another a benefice and to receive a certain
annual sum, which proceeding was formerly called simony.
And there are many other such little things which I cannot
recount; and so they deal worse with the benefices than the
heathens by the cross dealt with Christ's clothes.

But all this that I have spoken of is old and common
at Rome. Their avarice has invented other device, which I
hope will be the last and choke it. The Pope has made
a noble discovery, called Pcctoralls Rcscrvatio, that is, " men
tal reservation " — ct proprius motus, that is, " and his own
will and power." The matter is managed in this way : Sup
pose a man obtains a benefice at Rome, which is confirmed
to him in due form ; then comes another, who brings money,
or who has done some other service of which the less said the
better, and requests the Pope to give him the same benefice:
then the Pope will take it from the first and give it him.
If you say, that is wrong, the Most Holy Father must then
excuse himself, that he may not be openly blamed for having
violated justice; and he says "that in his heart and mind he
reserved his authority over the said benefice," whilst he
never had heard or thought of the same in all his life.
Thus he has devised a gloss which allows him in his proper
person to lie and cheat and fool us all, and all this impudently
and in open daylight, and nevertheless he claims to be the
head of Christendom, letting the evil spirit rule him with
manifest lies.

This wantonness and lying reservation of the popes has
brought about an unutterable state of things at Rome. There
is a buying and a selling, a changing, blustering and bargain
ing, cheating and lying, robbing and stealing, debauchery
and villainy, and all kinds of contempt of God, that anti
christ himself could not rule worse. Venice, Antwerp, Cairo,
are nothing to this fair and market at Rome, except that
there things are done with some reason and justice, whilst

300 LUTHER

here things are done as the devil himself could wish. And
out of this ocean a like virtue overflows all the world. Is
it not natural that such people should dread a reformation
and a free council, and should rather embroil all kings and
princes, than that their unity should bring about a council ?
Who would like his villainy to be exposed ?

Finally, the Pope has built a special house for this fine
traffic — that is, the house of the Datarius at Rome. Thither
all must come that bargain in this way, for prebends and
benefices ; from him they must buy the glosses and obtain
the right to practise such prime villainy. In former days
it was fairly well at Rome, when justice had to be bought, or
could only be put down by money ; but now she has become
so fastidious that she does not allow any one to commit
villainies unless he has first bought the right to do it with
great sums. If this is not a house of prostitution, worse
than all houses of prostitution that can be conceived, I do
not know what houses of prostitution really are.

If you bring money to this house, you can arrive at all
that I have mentioned; and more than this, any sort of
usury is made legitimate for money ; property got by theft
or robbery is here made legal. Here vows are annulled ;
here a monk obtains leave to quit his order ; here priests can
enter married life* for money; here bastards can become
legitimate ; and dishonour and shame may arrive at high
honours ; all evil repute and disgrace is knighted and en
nobled; here a marriage is suffered that is in a forbidden
degree, or has some other defect. Oh, what a trafficking
and plundering is there ! one would think that the canon laws
were only so many money-snares, from which he must free
himself who would become a Christian man. Nay, here the
devil becomes a saint, and a god besides. What heaven
and earth might not do may be done by this house. Their
ordinances are called compositions — compositions, forsooth !
confusions rather." Oh, what a poor treasury is the toll
on the Rhine14 compared with this holy house !

Let no one think that I say too much. It is all notorious,
so that even at Rome they are forced to own that it is

13 Luther uses here the expressions compositiones and confusiones as a
kind of pun.

14 Tolls were levied at many places along the Rhine.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 301

more terrible and worse than one can say. I have said and
will say nothing of the infernal dregs of private vices. I
only speak of well-known public matters, and yet my words
do not suffice. Bishops, priests, and especially the doctors of
the universities, who are paid to do it, ought to have
unanimously written and exclaimed against it. Yea, if you
will turn the leaf you will discover the truth.

I have still to give a farewell greeting. These treasures,
that would have satisfied three mighty kings, were not
enough for this unspeakable greed, and so they have made
over and sold their traffic to Fugger15 at Augsburg, so that
the lending and buying and selling sees and benefices, and
all this traffic in ecclesiastical property, has in the end come
into the right hands, and spiritual and temporal matters have
now become one business. Now I should like to know what
the most cunning would devise for Romish greed to do that
it has not done, except that Fugger might sell or pledge his
two trades, that have now become one. I think they must
have come to the end of their devices. For what they have
stolen and yet steal in all countries by bulls of indulgences,
letters of confession, letters of dispensation,1" and other
confessionalia, all this I think mere bungling work, and
much like playing toss with a devil in hell. Not that they
produce little, for a mighty king could support himself by
them ; but they are as nothing compared to the other streams
of revenue mentioned above. I will not now consider what
has become of that indulgence money; I shall inquire into
this another time, for Campofiore17 and Belvedere IS and some
other places probably know something about it.

Meanwhile, since this devilish state of things is not only
an open robbery, deceit, and tyranny of the gates of hell,
but also destroys Christianity body and soul, we are bound
to use all our diligence to prevent this misery and destruc
tion of Christendom. If we wish to fight the Turk, let
us begin here, where they are worst. If we justly hang

II The commercial house of FugRer was in those days the wealthiest in
Europe.

19 Luther uses the word Butterbriefe, i. e., letter? of indulgence allowing
the enjoyment of butter, cheese, milk, etc., during Lent. They formed part
only of the confessionalia, which granted various other indulgences.

17 A public place at Rome.

11 Part of the Vatican.

302 LUTHER

thieves and behead robbers, why do we leave the greed of
Rome so unpunished, that is the greatest thief and robber
that has appeared or can appear on earth, and does all this in
the holy name of Christ and St. Peter ? Who can suffer
this and be silent about it ? Almost everything that they
possess has been stolen or got by robbery, as we learn from
all histories. Why, the Pope never bought those great
possessions, so as to be able to raise well-nigh ten hundred
thousand ducats from his ecclesiastical offices, without count
ing his gold mines described above and his land. He did
not inherit it from Christ and St. Peter; no one gave it
or lent it him; he has not acquired it by prescription. Tell
me, where can he have got it? You can learn from this
what their object is when they send out legates to collect
money to be used against the Turk.

TWENTY-SEVEN ARTICLES RESPECTING THE
REFORMATION OF THE CHRISTIAN ESTATE

Now though I am too lowly to submit articles that could
serve for the reformation of these fearful evils, I will yet
sing out my fool's song, and will show, as well as my wit
will allow, what might and should be done by the temporal
authorities or by a general council.

I. Princes, nobles, and cities should promptly forbid their
subjects to pay the annates to Rome and should even abolish
them altogether. For the Pope has broken the compact,
and turned the annates into robbery for the harm and shame
of the German nation ; he gives them to his friends ; he sells
them for large sums of money and founds benefices on them.
Therefore he has forfeited his right to them, and deserves
punishment. In this way the temporal power should protect
the innocent and prevent wrong-doing, as we are taught by
St. Paul (Rom. xiii.) and by St. Peter (i Peter ii.) and
even by the canon law (16. q. 7. de Filiis). That is why we
say to the Pope and his followers, Tu ora ! " Thou shalt
pray"; to the Emperor and his followers, Tu Protege!
"Thou shalt protect"; to the commons, Tu laboraf "Thou
shalt work." Not that each man should not pray, protect,

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 303

and work; for if a man fulfils his duty, that is prayer,
protection, and work; but every man must have his proper
task.

2. Since by means of those Romish tricks, commendams,
coadjutors, reservations, expectations, pope's months, incor
porations, unions, Palls, rules of chancellery, and other such
knaveries, the Pope takes unlawful possession of all German
foundations, to give and sell them to strangers at Rome,
that profit Germany in no way, so that the incumbents are
robbed of their rights, and the bishops are made mere
ciphers and anointed idols; and thus, besides natural justice
and reason, the Pope's own canon law is violated; and
things have come to such a pass that prebends and benefices
are sold at Rome to vulgar, ignorant asses and knaves, out
of sheer greed, while pious learned men have no profit by
their merit and skill, whereby the unfortunate German peo
ple must needs lack good, learned prelates and suffer ruin —
on account of these evils the Christian nobilitv should rise
up against the Pope as a common enemy and destroyer of
Christianity, for the sake of the salvation of the poor souls
that such tyranny must ruin. They should ordain, order,
and decree that henceforth no benefice shall be drawn away
to Rome, and that no benefice shall be claimed there in any
fashion whatsoever; and after having once got these bene
fices out of the hands of Romish tyranny, they must be kept
from them, and their lawful incumbents must be reinstated
in them to administer them as best they may within the
German nation. And if a cotirtling came from Rome, he
should receive the strict command to withdraw, or to leap
into the Rhine, or whatever river be nearest, and to admin
ister a cold bath to the Interdict, seal and letters and all.
Thus those at Rome would learn that we Germans are not
to remain drunken fools forever, but that we, too, are
become Christians, and that as such we will no longer
suffer this shameful mockery of Christ's holy name, that
serves as a cloak for such knavery and destruction of souls,
and that we shall respect God and the glory of God more
than the power of men.

3. It should be decreed by an imperial law that no
episcopal cloak and no confirmation of any appointment shall

304 LUTHER

for the future be obtained from Rome. The order of the
most holy and renowned Nicene Council must again be
restored, namely that a bishop must be confirmed by the
two nearest bishops or by the archbishop. If the Pope
cancels the decrees of these and all other councils, what is
the good of councils at all? Who has given him the right
thus to despise councils and to cancel them? If this is
allowed, we had better abolish all bishops, archbishops and
primates, and make simple rectors of all of them, so that
they would have the Pope alone over them as is indeed the
case now; he deprives bishops, archbishops, and primates
of all the authority of their office, taking everything to
himself, and leaving them only the name and the empty
title; more than this, by his exemption he has withdrawn
convents, abbots, and prelates from the ordinary authority of
the bishops, so that there remains no order in Christen
dom. The necessary result of this must be, and has been,
laxity in punishing and such a liberty to do evil in all the
world that I very much fear one might call the Pope " the
man of sin" (2 Thess. ii. 3). Who but the Pope is to
blame for this absence of all order, of all punishment, of all
government, of all discipline, in Christendom? By his own
arbitrary power he ties the hands of all his prelates,
and takes from them their rods, while all their subjects
have their hands unloosed, and obtain licence by gift or
purchase.

But, that he have no cause for complaint, as being deprived
of his authority, it should be decreed that in cases where
the primates and archbishops are unable to settle the matter,
or where there is a dispute among them, the matters shall
then be submitted to the Pope, but not every little matter, as
was done formerly, and was ordered by the most renowned
Nicene Council. His Holiness must not be troubled with
small matters, that can be settled without his help; so that
he may have leisure to devote himself to his prayers and
study and to his care of all Christendom, as he professes
to do, as indeed the Apostles did, saying, " It is not reason
that we should leave the word of God, and serve tables. . . .
But we will give ourselves continually to prayer, and to the
ministry of the word" (Acts vi. 2, 4). But now we see at

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 305

Rome nothing but contempt of the Gospel and of prayer,
and the service of tables, that is the service of the goods
of this world; and the government of the Pope agrees
with the government of the Apostles as well as Lucifer
with Christ, hell with heaven, night with day ; and yet
he calls himself Christ's vicar and the successor of the
Apostles.

4. Let it be decreed that no temporal matter shall be
submitted to Rome, but all shall be left to the jurisdiction
of the temporal authorities. This is part of their own canon
law, though they do not obey it. For this should be the
Pope's office : that he, the most learned in the Scriptures
and the most holy, not in name only, but in fact, should
rule in matters concerning the faith and the holy life of
Christians ; he should make primates and bishops attend to
this, and should work and take thought with them to this
end, as St. Paul teaches (i Cor. vi.), severely upbraiding
those that occupy themselves with the things of this world.
For all countries suffer unbearable damage by this practice
of settling such matters at Rome, since it involves great
expense; and besides this, the judges at Rome, not knowing
the manners, laws, and customs of other countries, fre
quently pervert the matter according to their own laws and
their own opinions, thus causing injustice to all parties.
Besides this, we should prohibit in all foundations the
grievous extortion of the ecclesiastical judges; they should
only be allowed to consider matters concerning faith and
good morals; but matters concerning money, property, life,
and honour should be left to temporal judges. Therefore
the temporal authorities should not permit excommunica
tion or expulsion except in matters of faith and righteous
living. It is only reasonable that spiritual authorities should
have power in spiritual matters; spiritual matters, however,
are not money or matters relating to the body, but faith
and good works.

Still we might allow matters respecting benefices or preb
ends to be treated before bishops, archbishops, and primates.
Therefore when it is necessary to decide quarrels and
strifes let the Primate of Germany hold a general consistory,
with assessors and chancellors, who would have the control

306 LUTHER

over the signaturas gratia and justitig'1' and to whom
matters arising in Germany might be submitted by appeal.
The officers of such court should be paid out of the annates,
or in some other way, and should not have to draw their
salaries, as at Rome, from chance presents and offerings,
whereby they grow accustomed to sell justice and injustice,
as they must needs do at Rome, where the Pope gives them
no salary, but allows them to fatten themselves on presents ;
for at Rome no one heeds what is right or what is wrong,
but only what is money and what is not money. They
might be paid out of the annates, or by some other means
devised by men of higher understanding and of more experi
ence in these things than I have. I am content with mak
ing these suggestions and giving some materials for consider
ation to those who may be able and willing to help the
German nation to become a free people of Christians,
after this wretched, heathen, unchristian misrule of the
Pope.

5. Henceforth no reservations shall be valid, and no
benefices shall be appropriated by Rome, whether the incum
bent die there, or there be a dispute, or the incumbent be a
servant of the Pope or of a cardinal ; and all courtiers shall
be strictly prohibited and prevented from causing a dispute
about any benefice, so as to cite the pious priests, to trouble
them, and to drive them to pay compensation. And if in con
sequence of this there comes an interdict from Rome, let it
be despised, just as if a thief were to excommunicate any man
because he would not allow him to steal in peace. Nay,
they should be punished most severely for making such a
blasphemous use of excommunication and of the name of
God, to support their robberies, and for wishing by their
false threats to drive us to suffer and approve this blasphemy
of God's name and this abuse of Christian authority, and
thus to become sharers before God in their wrong-doing,
whereas it is our duty before God to punish it, as St. Paul
(Rom. i.) upbraids the Romans for not only doing wrong,
but allowing wrong to be done. But above all that lying men-

19 At the time when the above was written the function of the signatures
gratia was to superintend the conferring of grants, concessions, favours,
etc., whilst the signature jttstitice embraced the general administration of
ecclesiastical matters.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 307

tal reservation (pectoralis rcservatio) is unbearable, by which
Christendom is so openly mocked and insulted, in that its
head notoriously deals with lies, and impudently cheats and
fools every man for the sake of accursed wealth.

6. The cases reserved20 (casus rcservati) should be abol
ished, by which not only are the people cheated out of much
money, but besides many poor consciences are confused and
led into error by the ruthless tyrants, to the intolerable harm
of their faith in God, especially those foolish and childish
cases that are made important by the bull In Cccna Domini*
and which do not deserve the name of daily sins, not to
mention those great cases for which the Pope gives no
absolution, such as preventing a pilgrim from going to Rome,
furnishing the Turks with arms, or forging the Pope's letters.
They only fool us with these gross, mad, and clumsy matters:
Sodom and Gomorrah, and all sins that are committed and
that can be committed against God's commandments, are
not reserved cases; but what God never commanded and they
themselves have invented — these must be made reserved
cases, solely in order that none may be prevented from
bringing money to Rome, that they may live in their lust
without fear of the Turk, and may keep the world in their
bondage by their wicked useless bulls and briefs.

Now all priests ought to know, or rather it should be a
public ordinance, that no secret sin constitutes a reserved
case, if there be no public accusation; and that every priest
has power to absolve from all sin, whatever its name, if
it be secret, and that no abbot, bishop, or pope has power
to reserve any such case; and, lastly, that if they do this,
it is null and void, and they should, moreover, be punished
as interfering without authority in God's judgment and
confusing and troubling without cause our poor witless
consciences. But in respect to any great open sin, directly
contrary to God's commandments, there is some reason for
a " reserved case " ; but there should not be too many, nor
should they be reserved arbitrarily without due cause. For

^"Reserved c^e.= " refer to those great sins for which the Pope or the
bishops only could pivc absolution.

21 The celebrated papal bull known under the name of In Carna Domini,
containing anathemas and excommunications against all those who dissented
in any way from the Roman Catholic creed, used until the year 1770 to be
read publicly at Rome on Maundy Thursday.

308 LUTHER

God has not ordained tyrants, but shepherds, in His Church,
as St. Peter says (i Peter v. 2).

•-.-. 7. The Roman See must abolish the papal offices, and
diminish that crowd of crawling vermin at Rome, so that
the Pope's servants may be supported out of the Pope's
own pocket, and that his court may cease to surpass all
royal courts in its pomp and extravagance; seeing that all
this pomp has not only been of no service to the Christian
faith, but has also kept them from study and prayer, so
that they themselves know hardly anything concerning
matters of faith, as they proved clumsily enough at the last
Roman Council,22 where, among many childishly trifling
matters, they decided '' that the soul is immortal," and that
a priest is bound to pray once every month on pain of
losing his benefice.23 How are men to rule Christendom and
to decide matters of faith who, callous and blinded by their
greed, wealth, and worldly pomp, have only just decided
that the soul is immortal ? It is no slight shame to all
Christendom that they should deal thus scandalously with
the faith at Rome. If they had less wealth and lived in
less pomp, they might be better able to study and pray that
they might become able and worthy to treat matters of
belief, as they were once, when they were content to be
bishops, and not kings of kings.

8. The terrible oaths must be abolished which bishops
are forced, without any right, to swear to the Pope, by
which they are bound like servants, and which are arbi
trarily and foolishly decreed in the absurd and shallow
chapter Significasti.2* Is it not enough that they oppress us
in goods, body, and soul by all their mad laws, by which
they have weakened faith and destroyed Christianity; but
must they now take possession of the very persons of
bishops, with their offices and functions, and also claim the
investiture K which used formerly to be the right of the
German emperors, and is still the right of the King in

MThe council alluded to above was held at Rome from 1512 to 1517.

98 Luther's objection is not, of course, to the recognition of the immor
tality of the soul; what he objects to is (i) that it was thought necessary
for a council to decree that the soul is immortal, and (2) that this question
was put on a level with trivial matters of discipline.

24 The above is the title of a chapter in the Corpus Juris Canonici.

36 The right of investiture was the subject of the dispute between Gregory
VII. and Henry IV., which led to the Emperor's submission at Canossa.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 309

France and other kingdoms? This matter caused many
wars and disputes with the emperors until the popes impu
dently took the power by force, since which time they have
retained it, just as if it were only right for the Germans,
above all Christians on earth, to be the fools of the Pope
and the Holy See, and to do and suffer what no one beside
would suffer or do. Seeing then that this is mere arbitrary
power, robbery, and a hindrance to the exercise of the
bishop's ordinary power, and to the injury of poor souls,
therefore it is the duty of the Emperor and his nobles to
prevent and punish this tyranny.

9. The Pope should have no power over the Emperor,
except to anoint and crown him at the altar, as a bishop
crowns a king ; nor should that devilish pomp be allowed
that the Emperor should kiss the Pope's feet or sit at his
feet, or, as it is said, hold his stirrup or the reins of his
mule, when he mounts to ride ; much less should he pay
homage to the Pope, or swear allegiance, as is impudently
demanded by the popes, as if they had a right to it. The
chapter Solitc™ in which the papal authority is exalted
above the imperial, is not worth a farthing, and so of
all those that depend on it or fear it ; for it does nothing
but pervert God's holy words from their true meaning,
according to their own imaginations, as I have proved in
a Latin treatise.

All these excessive, over-presumptuous, and most wicked
claims of the Pope are the invention of the devil, with
the object of bringing in antichrist in due course and of
raising the Pope above God, as indeed many have done and
are now doing. It is not meet that the Pope should exalt
himself above temporal authority, except in spiritual mat
ters, such as preaching and absolution ; in other matters
he should be subject to it, according to the teaching of
St. Paul (Rom. xiii.) and St. Peter (i Peter iii.), as I
have said above. He is not the vicar of Christ in heaven,
but only of Christ upon earth. Eor Christ in heaven, in
the form of a ruler, requires no vicar, but there sits, sees,
does, knows, and commands all things. But He requires
him "in the form of a servant" to represent Him as He

»The chapter Solite is also contained in the Corpus Juris Canonici.

310 LUTHER

walked upon earth, working, preaching, suffering, and dying.
But they reverse this: they take from Christ His power
as a heavenly Ruler, and give it to the Pope, and allow " the
form .of a servant" to be entirely forgotten (Phil. ii. 7).
He should properly be called the counter-Christ, whom
the Scriptures call antichrist; for his whole existence, work,
and proceedings are directed against Christ, to ruin and
destroy the existence and will of Christ.

It is also absurd and puerile for the Pope to boast for
such blind, foolish reasons, in his decretal Pastoralis, that
he is the rightful heir to the empire, if the throne be
vacant. Who gave it to him? Did Christ do so when He
said, " The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them,
but ye shall not do so " (Luke xxii. 25, 26) ? Did St. Peter
bequeath it to him? It disgusts me that we have to read
and teach such impudent, clumsy, foolish lies in the canon
law, and, moreover, to take them for Christian doctrine,
while in reality they are mere devilish lies. Of this kind
also is the unheard-of lie touching the " donation of Con-
stantine." a It must have been a plague sent by God that
induced so many wise people to accept such lies, though
they are so gross and clumsy that one would think a drunken
boor could lie more skilfully. How could preaching, prayer,
study, and the care of the poor consist with the government
of the empire? These are the true offices of the Pope, which
Christ imposed with such insistence that He forbade them
to take either coat or scrip (Matt. x. 10), for he that has
to govern a single house can hardly perform these duties.
Yet the Pope wishes to rule an empire and to remain a
pope. This is the invention of the knaves that would fain
become lords of the world in the Pope's name, and set
up again the old Roman empire, as it was formerly, by
means of the Pope and name of Christ, in its former con
dition.

10. The Pope must withdraw his hand from the dish,
and on no pretence assume royal authority over Naples and
Sicily. He has no more right to them than I, and yet claims

57 In order to legalise the secular power of the Pope, the fiction was
invented during the latter part of the eighth century, that Constantine the
Great had made over to the popes the dominion over Rome and over the
whole of Italy.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 31]

to be the lord — their liege lord. They have been fcken
by force and robbery, like almost all his other possessions.
Therefore the Emperor should grant him no such fief, nor
any longer allow him those he has, but direct him instead
to his Bibles and Prayer-books, so that he may leave the
government of countries and peoples to the temporal power,
especially of those that no one has given him. Let him
rather preach and pray ! The same should be done with
Bologna, Imola, Vicenza, Ravenna, and whatever the Pope
has taken by force and holds without right in the Ancontine
territory, in the Romagna, and other parts of Italy, inter
fering in their affairs against all the commandments of
Christ and St. Paul. For St. Paul says "that he that
would be one of the soldiers of heaven must not entangle
himself in the affairs of this life" (2 Tim. ii. 4). Now
the Pope should be the head and the leader of the soldiers
of heaven, and yet he engages more in worldly matters than
any king or emperor. He should be relieved of his worldly
cares and allowed to attend to his duties as a soldier of
heaven. Christ also, whose vicar he claims to be, would
have nothing to do with the things of this world, and even
asked one that desired of Him a judgment concerning
his brother, " Who made Me a judge over you?" (St. Luke
xii. 14). But the Pope interferes in these matters unasked,
and concerns himself with all matters, as though he were a
god, until he himself has forgotten what this Christ is whose
vicar he professes to be.

ii. The custom of kissing the Pope's feet must cease.
It is an unchristian, or rather an anti-Christian, example
that a poor sinful man should suffer his feet to be kissed
by one who is a hundred times better than he. If it is done
in honour of his power, why does he not do it to others
in honour of their holiness? Compare them together: Christ
and the Pope. Christ washed His disciples' feet and dried
them, and the disciples never washed His. The Pope,
pretending to be higher than Christ, inverts this, and con
siders it a great favour to let us kiss his feet; whereas, if
any one wished to do so, he ought to do his utmost to
prevent him, as St. Paul and Barnabas would not suffer
themselves to be worshipped as gods by the men at Lystra,

312 LUTHER

saying, " We also are men of like passions with you "
(Acts xiv. 14 scq.). But our flatterers have brought things
to such a pitch that they have set up an idol for us, until
no one regards God with such fear or honours Him with
such marks of reverence as he does the Pope. This they
can suffer, but not that the Pope's glory should be diminished
a single hair's-breadth. Now if they were Christians and
preferred God's honour to their own, the Pope would never
be pleased to have God's honour despised and his own
exalted, nor would he allow any to honour him until he
found that God's honour was again exalted above his
own.

It is of a piece with this revolting pride that the Pope is
not satisfied with riding on horseback or in a carriage, but
though he be hale and strong, is carried by men like an
idol in unheard-of pomp. My friend, how does this Lucifer-
like pride agree with the example of Christ, who went on
foot, as did also all His Apostles ? Where has there been a
king who has ridden in such worldly pomp as he docs,
who professes to be the head of all whose duty it is to
despise and flee from all worldly pomp — I mean, of all
Christians ? Not that this need concern us for his own
sake, but that we have good reason to fear God's wrath, if
we flatter such pride and do not show our discontent. It
is enough that the Pope should be so mad and foolish ; but
it is too much that we should sanction and approve it.

For what Christian heart can be pleased at seeing the
Pope when he communicates sit still like a gracious lord
and have the Sacrament handed to him on a golden reed
by a cardinal bending on his knees before him? Just as
if the Holy Sacrament were not worthy that a pope, a
poor miserable sinner, should stand to do honour to his God,
although all other Christians, who are much more holy
than the Most Holy Father, receive it with all reverence !
Could we be surprised if God visited us all with a plague
for that we suffer such dishonour to be done to God by
our prelates, and approve it, becoming partners of the Pope's
damnable pride by our silence or flattery? It is the same
when he carries the Sacrament in procession. He must be
carried, but the Sacrament stands before him like a cup

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 313

of wine on a table. In short, at Rome Christ is nothing,
the Pope is everything; yet they urge us and threaten us,
to make us suffer and approve and honour this anti-Christian
scandal, contrary to God and all Christian doctrine. Now
may God so help a free council that it may teach the Pope
that he too is a man, not above God, as he makes himself
out to be.

12. Pilgrimages to Rome must be abolished, or at least
no one must be allowed to go from his own wish or his own
piety, unless his priest, his town magistrate, or his lord
has found that there is sufficient reason for his pilgrimage.
This I say, not because pilgrimages are bad in themselves,
but because at the present time they lead to mischief; for
at Rome a pilgrim sees no good examples, but only offence.
They themselves have made a proverb, " The nearer to
Rome, the farther from Christ," and accordingly men bring
home contempt of God and of God's commandments. It
is said, " The first time one goes to Rome, he goes to seek
a rogue ; the second time he finds him ; the third time he
brings him home with him." But now they have become
so skilful that they can do their three journeys in one, and
.they have, in fact, brought home from Rome this saying:
" It were better never to have seen or heard of Rome."

And even if this were not so, there is something of more
importance to be considered ; namely, that simple men are
thus led into a false delusion and a wrong understanding
of God's commandments. For they think that these pil
grimages are precious and good works; but this is not true.
It is but i little good work, often a bad, misleading work,
for God has not commanded it. But He has commanded
that each man should care for his wife and children and
whatever concerns the married state, and should, besides,
serve and help his neighbour. Xow it often happens that
one goes on a pilgrimage to Rome, spends fifty or one
hundred guilders more or less, which no one has commanded
him, while his wife and children, or those dearest to him,
are left at home in want and misery; and yet he thinks,
poor foolish man, to atone for this disobedience and con
tempt of God's commandments by his self-willed pilgrimage,
while he is in truth misled by idle curiosity or the wiles of

314 LUTHER

the devil. This the popes have encouraged with their false
and foolish inventions of Golden Years,18 by which they have
incited the people, have torn them away from God's com
mandments and turned them to their own delusive proceed
ings, and set up the very thfng that they ought to have
forbidden. But it brought them money and strengthened
their false authority, and therefore it was allowed to
continue, though against God's will and the salvation of
souls.

That this false, misleading belief on the part of simple
Christians may be destroyed, and a true opinion of good
works may again be introduced, all pilgrimages should be
done away with. For there is no good in them, no com
mandment, but countless causes of sin and of contempt of
God's commandments. These pilgrimages are the reason
for there being so many beggars, who commit numberless
villainies, learn to beg without need and get accustomed to
it. Hence arises a vagabond life, besides other miseries
which I cannot dwell on now. If any one wishes to go on
a pilgrimage or to make a vow for a pilgrimage, he should
first inform his priest or the temporal authorities of the
reason, and if it should turn out that he wishes to do it for
the sake of good works, let this vow and work be just
trampled upon by the priest or the temporal authority as
an infernal delusion, and let them tell him to spend his
money and the labour a pilgrimage would cost on God's
commandments and on a thousandfold better work, namely,
on his family and his poor neighbours. But if he does it
out of curiosity, to see cities and countries, he may be
allowed to do so. If he have vowed it in sickness, let such
vows be prohibited, and let God's commandments be insisted
upon in contrast to them; so that a man may be content
with what he vowed in baptism, namely, to keep God's
commandments. Yet for this once he may be suffered, for
a quiet conscience' sake, to keep his silly vow. No one
is content to walk on the broad high-road of God's com-

28 The Jubilees, during which plenary indulgences were granted to those
who visited the churches of St. Peter and St. Paul at Rome, were originally
celebrated every hundred years and subsequently every twenty-five years.
Those who were unable to go to Rome in person could obtain the plenary
indulgences by paying the expenses of the journey to Rome into the papal
treasury.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 315

mandments; every one makes for himself new roads and
new vows, as if he had kept all God's commandments.

13. Now we come to the great crowd that promises much
and performs little. Be not angry, my good sirs; I mean
well. I have to tell you this bitter and sweet truth: Let
no more mendicant monasteries be built ! God help us !
there are too many as it is. Would to God they were all
abolished, or at least made over to two or three orders !
It has never done good, it will never do good, to go wander
ing about over the country. Therefore my advice is that
ten. or as many as may be required, be put together and
made into one, which one, sufficiently provided for, need
not beg. Oh ! it is of much more importance to consider
what is necessary for the salvation of the common people,
than what St. Francis, or St. Dominic, or St. Augustine,*8 or
any other man, laid down, especially since things have not
turned out as they expected. They should also be relieved
from preaching and confession, unless specially required to
do so by bishops, priests, the congregation, or other authority.
For their preaching and confession has led to nought but
mere hatred and envy between priests and monks, to the great
offence and hindrance of the people, so that it well deserves
to be put a stop to, since its place may very well be dis
pensed with. It does not look at all improbable that the
Holy Roman See had its own reasons for encouraging all
this crowd of monks: the Pope perhaps feared that priests
and bishops, growing weary of his tyranny, might become
too strong for him, and begin a reformation unendurable
to his Holiness.

Besides this, one should also do away with the sections
and the divisions in the same order which, caused for little
reason and kept up for less, oppose each other with unspeak
able hatred and malice, the result being that the Chris
tian faith, which is very well able to stand without their
divisions, is lost on both sides, and that a true Christian
life is sought and judged only by outward rules, works, and
practices, from which arise only hypocrisy and the destruc
tion of souls, as every one can see for himself. Moreover,

aThe above-mentioned saints were the patrons of the well-known mendi
cant orders: Franciscans, Dominicans, and Augustines.

316 LUTHER

the Pope should be forbidden to institute or to confirm the
institution of such new orders ; nay, he should be commanded
to abolish several and to lessen their number. For the
faith of Christ, 'which alone is the important matter, and
can stand without any particular order, incurs no little
danger lest men should be led away by these diverse works
and manners rather to live for such works and practices
than to care for faith; and unless there are wise prelates in
the monasteries, who preach and urge faith rather than the
rule of the order, it is inevitable that the order should be
injurious and misleading to simple souls, who have regard
to works alone.

Now, in our own time all the prelates are dead that had
faith and founded orders, just as it was in old days with
the children of Israel: when their fathers were dead, that
had seen God's works and miracles, their children, out of
ignorance of God's work and of faith, soon began to set
up idolatry and their own human works. In the same way,
alas ! t ese orders, not understanding God's works and faith,
grievoi ly labour and torment themselves by their own
laws and practices, and yet never arrive at a true under
standing of a spiritual and good life, as was foretold by
the Apostle, saying of them, " Having a form of godliness,
but denying the power thereof, . . . ever learning, and
never able to come to the knowledge " of what a true
spiritual life is (2 Tim. iii. 2-7). Better to have no convents
which are governed by a spiritual prelate, having no under
standing of Christian faith to govern them ; for such a
prelate cannot but rule with injury and harm, and the
greater the apparent holiness of his life in external works,
the greater the harm.

It would be, I think, necessary, especially in these perilous
times, that foundations and convents should again be organ
ised as they were in the time of the Apostles and a long
time after, namely when they were all free for every man
to remain there as long as he wished. For what were they
but Christian schools, in which the Scriptures and Christian
life were taught, and where folk were trained to govern
and to preach ? as we read that St. Agnes went to school,
and as we see even now in some nunneries, as at Quedlin-

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 317

burg and other places. Truly all foundations and convents
ought to be free in this way : that they may serve God of a
free will, and not as slaves. But now they have been bound
round with vows and turned into eternal prisons, so that
these vows are regarded even more than the vows of
baptism. But what fruit has come of this we daily see, hear,
read, and learn more and more.

I dare say that this my counsel will be thought very fool
ish, but I care not for this. I advise what I think best, reject
it who will. I know how these vows are kept, especially
that of chastity, which is so general in all these convents,10
and yet was not ordered by Christ, and it is given to
comparatively few to be able to keep it, as He says, and St.
Paul also (Col. ii. 20). I wish all to be helped, and that
Christian souls should not be held in bondage, through
customs and laws invented by men.

14. We see also how the priesthood is fallen, and how
many a poor priest is encumbered with a woman and children
and burdened in his conscience, and no one does anything
to help him, though he might very well be helped. Popes
and bishops may let that be lost that is being lost, and that
be destroyed which is being destroyed, I will save my con
science and open my mouth freely, let it vex popes and
bishops or whoever it may be; therefore I say, According to
the ordinances of Christ and His Apostles, every town
should have a minister or bishop, as St. Paul plainly says
(Titus i.), and this minister should not be forced to live
without a lawful wife, but should be allowed to have one,
as St. Paul writes, saying that " a bishop then must be
blameless, the husband of one wife, . . . having his
children in subjection with all gravity" (i Tim. iii.). For
with St. Paul a bishop and a presbyter are the same thing,
as St. Jerome also confirms. But as for the bishops that
we now have, of these the Scriptures know nothing; they
were instituted by common Christian ordinance, so that
one might rule over many ministers.

Therefore we learn from the Apostle clearly, that every
town should elect a pious learned citizen from the congre-

80 Luther alludes here of course to the vow of celibacy, which was curi
ously styled the 'vow of chastity'; thus indirectly condemning marriage
in general.

318 LUTHER

gallon and charge him with the office of minister; the
congregation should support him, and he should be left at
liberty to marry or not. He should have as assistants
several priests and deacons, married or not, as they please,
who should help him to govern the people and the congre
gation with sermons and the ministration of the sacraments,
as is still the case in the Greek Church. Then afterwards,
when there were so many persecutions and contentions
against heretics, there were many holy fathers who volun
tarily abstained from the marriage state, that they might
study more, and might be ready at all times for death and
conflict. Now the Roman see has interfered of its own
perversity, and has made a general law by which priests are
forbidden to marry. This must have been at the instigation
of the devil, as was foretold by St. P^ul, saying that " there
shall come teachers giving heed to seducing spirits, . . .
forbidding to marry," etc. (i Tim. iv. I, 2, seq.). This has
been the cause of so much misery that it cannot be told, and
has given occasion to the Greek Church to separate from
us, and has caused infinite disunion, sin, shame, and scandal,
like everything that the devil does or suggests. Now what
are we to do?

My advice is to restore liberty, and to leave every man
free to marry or not to marry. But if we did this we
should have to introduce a very different rule and order
for property; the whole canon law would be overthrown,
and but few benefices would fall to Rome. I am afraid
greed was a cause of this wretched, unchaste chastity, for
the result of it was that every rian wished to become a
priest or to have his son brought up to the priesthood, not
with the intention of living in chastity — for this could be
done without the priestly state — but to obtain his worldly
support without labour or trouble, contrary to God's com
mand, " In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat thy bread "
(Gen. iii.) ; and they have given a colour to this command
ment as though their work was praying and reading the
mass. I am not here considering popes, bishops, canons,
clergy, and monks who were not ordained by God; if they
have laid burdens on themselves, they may bear them. I
speak of the office of parish priest, which God ordained,

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 319

Who must rule a congregation with sermons and the minis
tration of the sacraments, and must live with them and
lead a domestic life. These should have the liberty given
them by a Christian council to marry and to avoid danger
and sin. For as God has not bound them, no one may bind
them, though he were an angel from heaven, let alone the
Pope; and whatever is contrary to this in the canon law
is mere idle talk and invention.

My advice further is, whoever henceforth is ordained
priest, he should in no wise take the vow of chastity, but
should protest to the bishop that he has no authority to
demand this vow, and that it is a devilish tyranny to demand
it. But if one is forced, or wishes to say, as some do,
"so far as human frailty permits," let every man interpret
that phrase as a plain negative, that is, " I do not promise
chastity " ; for " human frailty does not allow men to live
an unmarried life," but only "angelic fortitude and celestial
virtue." In this way he will have a clear conscience with
out any vow. I offer no opinion, one way or the other,
whether those who have at present no wife should marry,
or remain unmarried. This must be settled by the general
order of the Church and by each man's discretion. But I
will not conceal my honest counsel, nor withhold comfort
from that unhappy crowd who now live in trouble with
wife and children, and remain in shame, with a heavy con
science, hearing their wife called a priest's harlot, and the
children bastards. And this I say frankly, in virtue of my
good right.

There is many a poor priest free from blame in all other
respects, except that he has succumbed to human frailty
and come to shame with a woman, both minded in their
hearts to live together always in conjugal fidelity, if only
they could do so with a good conscience, though as it is
they live in public shame. I say, these two are surely mar
ried before God. I say, moreover, that when two are so
minded, and so come to live together, they should save their
conscience; let the man take the woman as his lawful wife,
and live with her faithfully as her husband, without con
sidering whether the Pope approve or not, or whether it is
forbidden by canon law, or temporal. The salvation of your

320 LUTHER

soul is of more importance than their tyrannous, arbitrary,
wicked laws, which are not necessary for salvation, nor
ordained by God. You should do as the children of Israel
did who stole from the Egyptians the wages they had earned,
or as a servant steals his well-earned wages from a harsh
master; in the same way do you also steal your wife and'
child from the Pope.

Let him who has faith enough to dare this only follow
me courageously: I will not mislead him. I may not have
the Pope's authority, yet I have the authority of a Christian
to help my neighbour and to warn him against his sins and
dangers. And here there is good reason for doing so.

(a) It is not every priest that can do without a woman,
not only on account of human frailty, but still more for
his household. If therefore he takes a woman, and the
Pope allows this, but will not let them marry, what is this
but expecting a man and a woman to live together and not
to fall ? Just as if one were to set fire to straw, and com
mand it should neither smoke nor burn.

(b) The Pope having no authority for such a command,
any more than to forbid a man to eat and drink, or to digest,
or to grow fat, no one is bound to obey it, and the Pope
is answerable for every sin against it, for all the souls
that it has brought to destruction, and for all the consciences
that have been troubled and tormented by it. He has long
deserved to be driven out of the world, so many poor souls
has he strangled with this devil's rope, though I hope that
God has shown many more mercy at their death than the
Pope did in their life. No good has ever come and can ever
come from the papacy and its laws.

(c) Even though the Pope's laws forbid it, still, after
the married state has been entered, the Pope's laws are
superseded, and are valid no longer, for God has commanded
that no man shall put asunder husband and wife, and this
commandment is far above' the Pope's laws, and God's com
mand must not be cancelled or neglected for the papal com
mands. It is true that mad lawyers have helped the Pope
to invent impediments, or hindrances to marriage, and thus
troubled, divided, and perverted the married state, de
stroying the commandments of God. What need I say fur-

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 321

ther? In the whole body of the Pope's canon law, there are
not two lines that can instruct a pious Christian, and so
many false and dangerous ones that it were better to
burn it.

But if you object that this would give offence, and
that one must first obtain the Pope's dispensation, I answer
that if there is any offence in it, it is the fault of the
see of Rome, which has made unjust and unholy laws. It
is no offence to God and the Scriptures. Even where the
Pope has power to grant dispensation for money by his
covetous tyrannical laws, every Christian has power to
grant dispensation in the same matter for the sake of Christ
and the salvation of souls. For Christ has freed us from
all human laws, especially when they are opposed to God
and the salvation of souls, as St. Paul teaches (Gal. v. i and
I Cor. viii. 9, 10).

15. I must not forget the poor convents. The evil spirit,
who has troubled all estates of life by human laws, and
made them unendurable, has taken possession of some abbots,
abbesses, and prelates, and led them so to rule their brothers
and sisters that they do but go soon to hell, and live a
wretched life even upon earth, as is the case with all the
devil's martyrs. For they have reserved in confession all,
or at least some, deadly sins, which are secret, and from
these no brother may on pain of excommunication and on
his obedience absolve another. Now we do not always find
angels everywhere, but men of flesh and blood, who would
rather incur all excommunication and menace than confess

i their secret sins to a prelate or the confessor appointed for
them ; consequently they receive the Sacrament with these

[ sins on their conscience, by which they become irregular31

I and suffer much misery. Oh blind shepherds ! Oh foolish
prelates ! Oh ravenous wolves ! Now I say that in cases
where a sin is public and notorious it is only right that the

1 prelate alone should punish it, and such sins, and no others,
he may reserve and except for himself; over private sins
he has no authority, even though they may be the worst
that can be committed or imagined. And if the prelate excepts

11 Luther uses the expression irrcciulares, which was applied to those
monks who were guilty of heresy, apostacy, transgression of the vow of
chastity, etc.

(v)

HC XXXVI

322 LUTHER

these, he becomes a tyrant and interferes with God's
judgment.

Accordingly I advise these children, brothers and sisters:
If your superiors will not allow you to confess your secret
sins to whomsoever you will, then take them yourself, and
confess them to your brother or sister, to whomsoever you
will ; be absolved and comforted, and then go or do what your
wish or duty commands; only believe firmly that you have
been absolved, and nothing more is necessary. And let not
their threats of excommunication, or irregularity, or what
not, trouble or disturb you ; these only apply to public or
notorious sins, if they are not confessed: you are not
touched by them. How canst thou take upon thyself, thou
blind prelate, to restrain private sins by thy threats? Give
up what thou canst not keep publicly; let God's judgment
and mercy also have its place with thy inferiors. He has not
given them into thy hands so completely as to have let
them go out of His own ; nay, thou hast received the smaller
portion. Consider thy statutes as nothing more than thy
statutes, and do not make them equal to God's judgment
in heaven.

16. It were also right to abolish annual festivals, pro
cessions, and masses for the dead, or at least to diminish
their number; for we evidently see that they have become
no better than a mockery, exciting the anger of God and
having no object but money-getting, gluttony, and carousals.
How should it please God to hear the poor vigils and masses
mumbled in this wretched way, neither read nor prayed?
Even when they are properly read, it is not done freely for
the love of God, but for the love of money and as payment
of a debt. Now it is impossible that anything should please
God or win anything from Him that is not done freely, out
of love for Him. Therefore, as true Christians, we ought
to abolish or lessen a practice that we see is abused, and
that angers God instead of appeasing Him. I should prefer,
and it would be more agreeable to God's will, and far better
for a foundation, church, or convent, to put all the yearly
masses and vigils together into one mass, so that they would
every year celebrate, on one day, a true vigil and mass with
hearty sincerity, devotion, and faith for all their benefactors.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 323

This would be better than their thousand upon thousand
masses said every year, each for a particular benefactor,
without devotion and faith. My dear fellow-Christians, God
cares not for much prayer, but for good prayer. Nay, He
condemns long and frequent prayers, saying, " Verily I
say unto you, they have their reward" (Matt. vi. 2, seq.).
But it is the greed that cannot trust God by which such
practices are set up; it is afraid it will die of starvation.

17. One should also abolish certain punishments inflicted
by the canon law, especially the interdict, which is doubtless
the invention of the evil one. Is it not the mark of the devil
to wish to better one sin by more and worse sins ? It is surely
a greater sin to silence God's word, and service, than if we
were to kill twenty popes at once, not to speak of a single
priest or of keeping back the goods of the Church. This
is one of those gentle virtues which are learnt in the spirit
ual law; for the canon or spiritual law is so called because
it comes from a spirit, not, however, from the Holy Spirit,
but from the evil spirit.

Excommunication should not be used except where the
Scriptures command it, that is, against those that have not
the right faith, or that live in open sin, and not in matters
of temporal goods. But now the case has been inverted:
each man believes and lives as he pleases, especially those
that plunder and disgrace others with excommunications;
and all excommunications are now only in matters of worldly
goods, for which we have no one to thank but the holy
canonical injustice. But of all this I have spoken previously
in a sermon.

The other punishments and penalties — suspension, irregu
larity, aggravation, reaggravation, deposition,*3 thundering,
lightning, cursing, damning, and what not — all these should
be buried ten fathoms deep in the earth, that their very
name and memory may no longer live upon earth. The evil
spirit, who was let loose by the spiritual law, has brought
all this terrible plague and misery into the heavenly kingdom
of the holy Church, and has thereby brought about nothing

M Luther enumerates here the various grades of punishment inflicted on
priests. The aggravation consisted of a threat of excom"i"i;r-ition after a
thrice-repeated admonition, whilst the consequence of rtaygravatwn was im
mediate excommunication.

324 LUTHER

but the harm and destruction of souls, that we may well
apply to it the words of Christ, " But woe unto you, scribes
and Pharisees, hypocrites ! for you shut up the kingdom of
heaven against men, for ye neither go in yourselves, neither
suffer ye them that are entering to go in" (Matt, xxiii. 13).

18. One should abolish all saints' days, keeping only Sun
day. But if it were desired to keep the festivals of Our
Lady and the greater saints, they should all be held on
Sundays, or only in the morning with the mass ; the rest
of the day being a working day. My reason is this: with
our present abuses of drinking, gambling, idling, and all
manner of sin, we vex God more on holy days than on others.
And the matter is just reversed; we have made holy days
unholy, and working days holy, and do no service, but
great dishonour, to God and His saints with all our holy
days. There are some foolish prelates that think they have
done a good deed, if they establish a festival to St. Otilia
or St. Barbara, and the like, each in his own blind fashion,
whilst he would be doing a much better work to turn a saint's
day into a working day in honour of a saint.

Besides these spiritual evils, these saints' days inflict bodily
injury on the common man in two ways : he loses a day's
work, and he spends more than usual, besides weakening
his body and making himself unfit for labour, as we see
every day, and yet no one tries to improve it. One should
not consider whether the Pope instituted these festivals, or
whether we require his dispensation or permission. If any
thing is contrary to God's will and harmful to men in body
and soul, not only has every community, council, or govern
ment authority to prevent and abolish such wrong without
the knowledge or consent of pope or bishop, but it is their
duty, as they value their soul's salvation, to prevent it,
even though pope and bishop (that should be the first to
do so) are unwilling to see it stopped. And first of all we
should abolish church wakes, since they are nothing but
taverns, fairs, and gaming places, to the greater dishonour of
God and the damnation of souls. It is no good to make a talk
about their having had a good origin and being good works.
Did not God set aside His own law that He had given forth
out of heaven when He saw that it was abused, and does

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 325

He not now reverse every day what He has appointed, and
destroy what He has made, on account of the same perverse
misuse, as it is written in Psalm xviii. (ver. 26), "With the
froward Thou wilt show Thyself froward "?

ig. The degrees of relationship in which marriage is for
bidden must be altered, such as so-called spiritual relations"
in the third and fourth degrees ; and where the Pope at
Rome can dispense in such matters for money, and make
shameful bargains, every priest should have the power of
granting the same dispensations freely for the salvation of
souls. Would to God that all those things that have to be
bought at Rome, for freedom from the golden snares of
the canon law, might be given by any priest without pay
ment, such as indulgences, letters of indulgences, letters of
dispensation, mass letters, and all the other religious licences
and knaveries at Rome by which the poor people are deceived
and robbed ! For if the Pope has the power to sell for money
his golden snares, or canon nets (laws, I should say), much
more has a priest the power to cancel them and to trample
on them for God's sake. But if he has no such power, then
the Pope can have no authority to sell them in his shame
ful fair.

Besides this, fasts must be made optional, and every kind
of food made free, as is commanded in the Gospels (Matt.
xv. n). For whilst at Rome they laugh at fasts, they let us
abroad consume oil which they would not think fit for
greasing their boots, and then sell us the liberty of eating
butter and other things, whereas the Apostle says that the
Gospel has given us freedom in all such matters (i Cor. x.
25, seq.}. But they have caught us in their canon law and
have robbed us of this right, so that we have to buy it back
from them ; they have so terrified the consciences of the
people that one cannot preach this liberty without rousing
the anger of the people, who think the eating of butter to
be a worse sin than lying, swearing, and unchastity. We may
make of it what we will; it is but the work of man, and
no good can ever come of it.

20. The country chapels and churches must be destroyed,
such as those to which the new pilgrimages have been set

88 Those, namely, between sponsors at baptism and their god-children.

326 LUTHER

on foot: Wilsnack, Sternberg, Treves, the Grimmenthal,
and now Ratisbon, and many others. Oh, what a reckoning
there will be for those bishops that allow these inventions
of the devil and make a profit out of them ! They should
be the first to stop it; they think that it is a godly, holy
thing, and do not see that the devil does this to strengthen
covetousness, to teach false beliefs, to weaken parish
churches, to increase drunkenness and debauchery, to waste
money and labour, and simply to lead the poor people by
the nose. If they had only studied the Scriptures as much as
their accursed canon law, they would know well how to
deal with the matter.

The miracles performed there prove nothing, for the evil
one can show also wonders, as Christ has taught us (Matt,
xxiv. 24). If they took up tKe matter earnestly and forbade
such doings, the miracles would soon cease : or if they were
done by God, they would not be prevented by their commands.
And if there were nothing else to prove that these are not
works of God, it would bt enough that people go about
turbulently and irrationally like herds of cattle, which could
not possibly come from God. God nas not commanded it ;
there is no obedience, and no merit *r it; and therefore it
should be vigorously interfered with, and the people warned
against it. For what is not commanded by God and goes
beyond God's commandments is surely the devil's own work.
In this way also the ^?rish churches suffer: in that they
are less venerated. In hne, these pilgrimages are signs of
great want of faith in the people ; for it they truly believed,
they would find all things in their own churches, where they
are commanded to go.

But what is the use of my speaking. Every man thinks
only how he may get up such a pilgrimage in his own
district, not caring whether the peoplt believe and live ;
rightly. The rulers are like the people: blind leaders of
the blind. Where pilgrimages are a failure, they begin to
glorify their saints, not to honour the saints, who are suf
ficiently honoured without them, but to cause a concourse,
and to bring in money. Herein pope and bishops help them ;
it rains indulgences, and every one can afford to buy them:
but what God has commanded no one cares for; no one runs

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 327

after it, no one can afford any money for it. Alas for
our blindness, that we not only suffer the devil to have his
way with his phantoms, but support him ! I wish one would
leave the good saints alone, and not lead the poor people
astray. What spirit gave the Pope authority to "glorify"
the saints? Who tells him whether they are holy or not
holy ? Are there not enough sins on earth as it is but we
must tempt God, interfere in His judgment, and make money
bags of His saints? Therefore my advice is to let the saints
glorify themselves. Nay, God alone should be glorified, and
every man should keep to his own parish, where he will
profit more than in all these shrines, even if they were all
put together into one shrine. Here a man finds baptism, the
Sacrament, preaching, and his neighbour, and these are more
than all the saints in heaven, for it is by God's word and
sacrament that they have all been hallowed.

Our contempt for these great matters justifies God's anger
in giving us over to the devil to lead us astray, to get up
pilgrimages, to found churches and chapels, to glorify the
saints, and to commit other like follies, by which we are
led astray from the true faith into new false beliefs, just
as He did in old time with the people of Israel, whom He
led away from the Temple to countless other places, all the
while in God's name, and with the appearance of holiness,
against which all the prophets preached, suffering martyrdom
for their words. But now no one preaches against it; for if
he did, bishops, popes, priests, and monks would perchance
combine to martyr him. In this way Antonius of Florence
and many others are made saints, so that their holiness may
serve to produce glory and wealth, which served before to
the honour of God and as a good example alone.

Even if this glorification of the saints had been good
once, it is not good now, just as many other things were
good once and are now occasion of offence and injurious,
such as holidays, ecclesiastical treasures and ornaments.
For it is evident that what is aimed at in the glorification of
saints is not the glory of God nor the bettering of Chris
tendom, but money and fame alone; one Church wishes to
have an advantage over another, and would be sorry to
see another Church enjoying the same advantages. In this

328 LUTHER

way they have in these latter days abused the goods of the
Church so as to gain the goods of the world ; so that every
thing, and even God Himself, must serve their avarice.
Moreover, these privileges cause nothing but dissensions and
worldly pride; one Church being different from the rest,
they despise or magnify one another, whereas all goods that
are of God should be common to all, and should serve to
produce unity. This, too, is much liked by the Pope, who
would be sorry to see all Christians equal and at one with
one another.

Here must be added that one should abolish, or treat as
of no account, or give to all Churches alike, the licences,
bulls, and whatever the Pope sells at his Maying-ground at
Rome. For if he sells or gives to Wittenberg, to Halle, to
Venice, and above all, to his own city of Rome, permis
sions, privileges, indulgences, graces, advantages, faculties,
why does he not give them to all Churches alike? Is
it not his duty to do all that he can for all Christians with
out reward, solely for God's sake, nay, even to shed his
blood for them ? Why then, I should like to know, does he
give or sell these things to one Church and not to another?
Or does this accursed gold make a difference in his Holi-
ness's eyes between Christians who all alike have baptism,
Gospel, faith, Christ, God, and all things ? Do they wish
us to be blind, when our eyes can see, to be fools, when we
have reason, that we should worship this greed, knavery, and
delusion ? He is a shepherd, forsooth — so long as you have
money, no further ; and yet they are not ashamed to practise
all this knavery right and left with their bulls. They care
only for that accursed gold, and for nought besides.

Therefore my advice is this: If this folly is not done
away with, let all pious Christians open their eyes, and not
be deceived by these Romish bulls and seals and all their
specious pretences; let them stop at home in their own
churches, and be satisfied with their baptism, Gospel, faith,
Christ, and God (who is everywhere the same), and let
the Pope continue to be a blind leader of the blind. Neither
pope nor angel can give you as much as God gives you in
your own parish; nay, he only leads you away from God's
gifts, which you have for nothing, to his own gifts, which

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 329

you must buy, giving you lead for gold, skin for meat,
strings for a purse, wax for honey, words for goods, the
letter for the spirit, as you can see for yourselves though
you will not perceive it. If you try to ride to heaven on
the Pope's wax and parchment, your carriage will soon
break down, and you will fall into hell, not in God's
name.

Let this be a fixed rule for you: Whatever has to be
bought of the Pope is neither good, nor of God. For
whatever comes from God is not only given freely, but all
the world is punished and condemned for not accepting it
freely. So is it with the Gospel and the works of God. We
have deserved to be led into these errors, because we have
despised God's holy word and the grace of baptism, as
St. Paul says, " And for this cause God shall send them
strong delusion, that they should believe a lie. that they
all might be damned who believed not the truth, but had
pleasure in unrighteousness" (2 Thess. ii. n, 12).

21. It is one of the most urgent necessities to abolish
all begging in Christendom. No one should go about beg
ging among Christians. It would not be hard to do this,
if we attempted it with good heart and courage: each town
should support its own poor and should not allow strange
beggars to come in, whatever they may call themselves,
pilgrims or mendicant monks. Every town could feed its
own poor; and if it were too small, the people in the
neighbouring villages should be called upon to contribute.
As it is, they have to support many knaves and vagabonds
under the name of beggars. If they did what I propose,
they would at least know who were really poor or not.

There should also be an overseer or guardian who should
know all the poor, and should inform the town-council, or
the priest, of their requirements ; or some other similar
provision might be made. There is no occupation, in my
opinion, in which there is so much knavery and cheating
as among beggars: which could easily be done away with.
This general, unrestricted begging is, besides, injurious for
the common people. I estimate that of the five or six
orders of mendicant monks each one visits every place
more than six or seven times in the year; then there are

330 LUTHER

the common beggars, emissaries, and pilgrims; in this way
I calculate every city has a blackmail levied on it about
sixty times a year, not counting rates and taxes paid to
the civil government and the useless robberies of the Roman
see; so that it is to my mind one of the greatest of God's
miracles how we manage to live and support ourselves.

Some may think that in this way the poor would not be
well cared for, and that such great stone houses and
convents would not be built, and not so plentifully, and I
think so too. Nor is it necessary. If a man will be poor,
he should not be rich; if he will be rich, let him put his
hand to the plough, and get wealth himself out of the
earth. It is enough to provide decently for the poor, that
they may not die of cold and hunger. It is not right that
one should work that another may be idle, and live ill
that another may live well, as is now the perverse abuse,
for St. Paul says, "If any would not work, neither should
he eat" (2 Thess. iii. 10). God has not ordained that any
one should live of the goods of others, except priests and
ministers alone, as St. Paul says (i Cor. ix. 14), for
their spiritual work's sake, as also Christ says to the
Apostles, "The labourer is worthy of his hire" (Luke
x. 7).

22. It is also to be feared that the many masses that
have been founded in convents and foundations, instead
of doing any good, arouse God's anger; wherefore it would
be well to endow no more masses and to abolish many of
those that have been endowed ; for we see that they are
only looked upon as sacrifices and good works, though in
truth they are sacraments like baptism and confession, and
as such profit him only that receives them. But now the
custom obtains of saying masses for the living and the
dead, and everything is based upon them. This is the
reason why there are so many, and that they have come to
be what we see.

But perhaps all this is a new and unheard-of doctrine,
especially in the eyes of those that fear to lose their
livelihood, if these masses were abolished. I must there
fore reserve what I have to say on this subject until men
have arrived at a truer understanding of the mass, its

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 331

nature and use. The mass has, alas ! for so many years
been turned into means of gaining a livelihood, that I
should advise a man to become a shepherd, a labourer,
rather than a priest or monk, unless he knows what the
mass is.

All this, however, does not apply to the old foundations
and chapters, which were doubtless founded in order that
since, according to the custom of Germany, all the children
of nobles cannot be landowners and rulers, they should be
provided for in these foundations, and these serve God
freely, study, and become learned themselves, and help
others to acquire learning. I am speaking only of the new
foundations, endowed for prayers and masses, by the ex
ample of which the old foundations have become burdened
with the like prayers and masses, making them of very
little, if of any, use. Through God's righteous punishment,
they have at last come down to the dregs, as they deserve —
that is, to the noise of singers and organs, and cold, spirit
less masses, with no end but to gain and spend the money
due to them. Popes, bishops, and doctors should examine and
report on such things; as it is they are the guiltiest, allow
ing anything that brings them money; the blind ever leading
the blind. This comes of covetousness and the canon law.

It must, moreover, not be allowed in future that one
man should have more than one endowment or prebend.
He should be content with a moderate position in life, so
that others may have something besides himself; and thus
we must put a stop to the excuses of those that say that
they must have more than one office to enable them to live
in their proper station. It is possible to estimate one's
" proper station " in such a way that a whole kingdom
would not suffice to maintain it. So it is that covetousness
and want of faith in God go hand in hand, and often men
take for the requirements of their "proper station" what is
mere covetousness and want of faith.

23. As for the fraternities, together with indulgences,
letters of indulgence, dispensations for Lent, and masses,
and all the rest of such things, let them all be drowned
and abolished; there is no good in them at all. If the
Pope has the authority to grant dispensation in the matter

332 LUTHER

of eating butter and hearing masses, let him allow priests
to do the same ; he has no right to take the power from
them. I speak also of the fraternities in which indulgences,
masses, and good works are distributed. My friend, in
baptism you joined a fraternity of which Christ, the angels,
and saints, and all Christians are members; be true to this,
and satisfy it, and you will have fraternities enough. Let
others make what show they wish ; they are as counters
compared to coins. But if there were a fraternity that
subscribed money to feed the poor or to help others in
any way, this would be good, and it would have its indul
gence and its deserts in heaven. But now they are good
for nothing but gluttony and drunkenness.

First of all we should expel from all German lands the
Pope's legates, with their faculties, which they sell to us
for much money, though it is all knavery — as, for instance,
their taking money for making goods unlawfully acquired
to be good, for freeing from oaths, vows, and bonds, thus
destroying and teaching others to destroy truth and faith
mutually pledged, saying the Pope has authority to do so.
It is the evil spirit that bids them talk thus, and so they sell
us the devil's teaching, and take money for teaching us sins
and leading us to hell.

If there were nothing else to show that the Pope is
antichrist, this would be enough. Dost thou hear this,
O Pope! not the most holy, but the most sinful? Would
that God would hurl thy chair headlong from heaven, and
cast it down into the abyss of hell ! Who gave you the
power to exalt yourself above your God; to break and to
loose what He has commanded ; to teach Christians, more
especially Germans, who are of noble nature, and are famed
in all histories for uprightness and truth, to be false, un
faithful, perjured, treacherous, and wicked? God has
commanded to keep faith and observe oaths even with
enemies ; you dare to cancel this command, laying it down
in your heretical, anti-Christian decretals that you have
power to do so ; and through your mouth and your pen
Satan lies as he never lied before, teaching you to twist
and pervert the Scriptures according to your own arbitrary
will. O Lord Christ, look down upon this; let Thy day

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 333

of judgment come and destroy the devil's lair at Rome.
Behold him of whom St. Paul spoke (2 Thess. ii, 3, 4) that
he should exalt himself above Thee and sit in Thy Church,
showing himself as God — the man of sin and the child of
damnation. What else does the Pope's power do but teach
and strengthen sin and wickedness, leading souls to damna
tion in Thy name ?

The children of Israel in old times were obliged to keep
the oath that they had sworn, in ignorance and error, to
the Gibeonites, their enemies; and King Zedekiah was de
stroyed utterly, with his people, because he broke the oath
that he had sworn to the King of Babylon ; and among us,
a hundred years ago, the noble King Laclislaus V. of
Poland and Hungary was slain by the Turk, with so many
of his people, because he allowed himself to be misled by
papal legates and cardinals and broke the good and useful
treaty that he had made with the Turk. The pious Emperor
Sigismond had no good fortune after the Council of Con
stance, in which he allowed the knaves to violate the safe-
conduct that he had promised to John Huss and Jerome;
from this has followed all the miserable strife between
Bohemia and ourselves. And in our own time, God help
us ! how much Christian blood has been shed on account
of the oath and bond which Pope Julius made and unmade
between the Emperor Maximilian and King Louis of France !
How can I tell all the misery the popes have caused by such
devilish insolence, claiming the power of breaking oaths
between great lords, causing a shameful scandal for the
sake of money? I hope the day of judgment is at hand;
things cannot and will not become worse than the dealings
of the Roman chair. The Pope treads God's commandments
under foot and exalts his own; if this is not antichrist, I
do not know what is. But of this, and to more purpose,
another time.

24. It is high time to take up earnestly and truthfully
the cause of the Bohemians, to unite them with ourselves
and ourselves with them, so that all mutual accusations,
envy, and hatred may cease. I will be the first, in my folly,
to give my opinion, with all due deference to those of better
understanding.

334 LUTHER

First of all, we must honestly confess the truth, without
attempting self-justification, and own one thing to the
Bohemians, namely that John Huss and Jerome of Prague
were burnt at Constance in violation of the papal, Christian,
and imperial oath and safe-conduct, and that thus God's
commandment was broken and the Bohemians excited to
great anger. And though they may have deserved such
great wrong and disobedience to God on our part, they were
not obliged to approve it and think it right. Nay, even
now they should run any danger of life and limb rather
than own that it is right to break an imperial, papal, Chris
tian safe-conduct and act faithlessly in opposition to it.
Therefore, though the Bohemians may be to blame for their
impatience, yet the Pope and his followers are most to
blame for all the misery, all the error and destruction of
souls, that followed this council of Constance.

It is not my intention here to judge John Huss's belief
and to defend his errors, although my understanding has
not been able to find any error in him, and I would willingly
believe that men who violated a safe-conduct and God's
commandment (doubtless possessed rather by the evil spirit
than by the Spirit of God) were unable to judge well or
to condemn with truth. No one can imagine that the Holy
Ghost can break God's commandments; no one can deny
that it is breaking God's commandments to violate faith
and a safe-conduct, even though it were promised to the
devil himself, much more then in the case of a heretic;
it is also notorious that a safe-conduct was promised to
John Huss and the Bohemians, and that the promise was
broken and Huss was burnt. I have no wish to make a
saint or a martyr of John Huss (as some Bohemians do),
though I own that he was treated unjustly, and that his
books and his doctrines were wrongfully condemned ; for
God's judgments are inscrutable and terrible, and none but
Himself may reveal or explain them.

All I say is this: Granting he was a heretic, however
bad he may have been, yet he was burnt unjustly and in
violation of God's commandments, and we must not force
the Bohemians to approve this, if we wish ever to be at
one with them. Plain truth must unite us, not obstinacy.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 335

It is no use to say, as they said at the time, that a safe-
conduct need not be kept, if promised to a heretic; that is
as much as to say, one may break God's commandments in
order to keep God's commandments. They were infatuated
and blinded by the devil, that they could not see what they
said or did. God has commanded us to observe a safe-
conduct; and this we must do though the world should perish:
much more then where it is only a question of a heretic
being set free. We should overcome heretics with books,
not with fire, as the old Fathers did. If there were any
skill in overcoming heretics with fire, the executioner would
be the most learned doctor in the world; and there would
be no need to study, but he that could get another into
his power could burn him.

Besides this, the Emperor and the princes should send
to Bohemia several pious, learned bishops and doctors, but,
for their life, no cardinal or legate or inquisitor, for such
people are far too unlearned in all Christian matters, and
do not seek the salvation of souls; but, like all the papal
hypocrites, they seek only their own glory, profit, and
honour; they were also the leaders in that calamitous affair
at Constance. But those envoys should inquire into the
faith of the Bohemians, to ascertain whether it would be
possible to unite all their sects into one. Moreover, the
Pope should (for their souls' sake) for a time abandon
his supremacy and, in accordance with the statutes of the
Nicene Council, allow the Bohemians to choose for them
selves an archbishop of Prague, this choice to be confirmed
by the Bishops of Olmiitz in Moravia or of Gran in
Hungary, or the Bishop of Gnesen in Poland, or the Bishop
of Magdeburg in Germany. It is enough that it be con
firmed by one or two of these bishops, as in the time of
St. Cyprian. And the Pope has no authority to forbid it;
if he forbids it, he acts as a wolf and a tyrant, and no one
should obey him, but answer his excommunication by excom
municating him.

Yet if, for the honour of the chair of St. Peter, any one
prefers to do this with the Pope's knowledge, I do not
object, provided that the Bohemians do not pay a farthing
for it, and that the Pope do not bind them a single hair's-

336 LUTHER

breadth, or subject them to his tyranny by oath, as he does
all other bishops, against God and justice. If he is not
satisfied with the honour of his assent being asked, leave
him alone, by all means, with his own rights, laws, and
tyrannies ; be content with the election, and let the blood
of all the souls that are in danger be upon his head. For
no man may countenance wrong, and it is enough to show
respect to tyranny. If we cannot do otherwise, we may
consider the popular election and consent as equal to a
tyrannical confirmation ; but I hope this will not be necessary.
Sooner or later some Romans, or pious bishops and learned
men, must perceive and avert the Pope's tyranny.

I do not advise that they be forced to abandon the
Sacrament in both kinds, for it is neither unchristian nor
heretical. They should be allowed to continue in their
present way ; but the new bishop must see that there be
no dissensions about this matter, and they must learn that
neither practice is actually wrong, just as there need be no
disputes about the priests not wearing the same dress as
the laity. In the same way, if they do not wish to submit
to the canon laws of the Roman Church, we must not force
them, but we must content ourselves with seeing that they
live in faith and according to the Scriptures. For Christian
life and Christian faith may very well exist without the
Pope's unbearable laws; nay, they cannot well exist until
there are fewer of those laws or none. Our baptism has
freed us and made us subject to God's word alone ; why
then should we suffer a man to make us the slaves of his
words? As St. Paul says, "Stand fast therefore in the
liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not
entangled again with the yoke of bondage" (Gal. v. i).

If I knew that the only error of the Hussites34 was that
they believe that in the Sacrament of the altar there is
true bread and wine, though under it the body and the
blood of Christ — if, I say, this were their only error, I
should not condemn them; but let the Bishop of Prague see
to this. For it is not an article of faith that in the Sacra
ment there is no bread and wine in substance and nature,

34 Luther uses here the word Pikardcn, which is a corruption of Begharden,
». e. " Beghards," a nickname frequently applied in those days to the Hussites.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 337

which is a delusion of St. Thomas and the Pope; but it is
an article of faith that in the natural bread and wine there
is Christ's true flesh and blood. We should accordingly
tolerate the views of both parties until they are at one; for
there is not much danger whether you believe there is or
there is not bread in the Sacrament. For we have to suffer
many forms of belief and order that do not injure the faith;
but if they believe otherwise, it would be better not to unite
with them, and yet to instruct them in the truth.

All other errors and dissensions to be found in Bohemia
should be tolerated until the Archbishop has been rein
stated, and has succeeded in time in uniting the whole
people in one harmonious doctrine. We shall never unite
them by force, by driving or hurrying them. We must be
patient, and use gentleness. Did not Christ have to walk
with His disciples, suffering their unbelief, until they be
lieved in His resurrection? If they had but once more a
regular bishop and good government without Romish tyr
anny, I think matters would mend.

The temporal possessions of the Church should not be
too strictly claimed ; but since we are Christians and bound
to help one another, we have the right to give them these
things for the sake of unity, and to let them keep them,
before God and the world; for Christ says, "Where two or
three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the
midst of them." Would to God we helped on both sides to
bring about this unity, giving our hands one to the other
in brotherly humility, not insisting on our authority or our
rights ! Love is more, and more necessary, than the papacy
at Rome, which is without love, and love can exist without
the papacy. I hone I have done my best for this end. If
the Pope or his followers hinder this good work, they will
have to give an account of their actions for having, against
the love of God, sought their own advantage more than
their neighbours'. The Pope should abandon his papacy,
all his possessions and honours, if he could save a soul by
«o doing. But he would rather see the world go to ruin
than give up a hair's-breadth of the power he has usurped;
and yet he would be eur most holy father Herewith I
am excused.

338 LUTHER

25. The universities also require a good, sound reforma
tion. I must say this, let it vex whom it may. The fact
is that whatever the papacy has ordered or instituted is
only designed for the propagation of sin and error. What
are the universities, as at present ordered, but, as the
book of Maccabees says, "schools of 'Greek fashion' and
'heathenish manners'" (2 Mace. iv. 12, 13), full of dis
solute living, where very little is taught of the Holy Scrip
tures and of the Christian faith, and the blind heathen
teacher, Aristotle, rules even further than Christ? Now,
my advice would be that the books of Aristotle, the Physics,
the Metaphysics, Of the Soul, Ethics, which have hitherto
been considered the best, be altogether abolished, with all
others that profess to treat of nature, though nothing can
be learned from them, either of natural or of spiritual
things. Besides, no one has been able to understand his
meaning, and much time has been wasted and many noble
souls vexed with much useless labour, study, and expense.
I venture to say that any potter has more knowledge of
natural things than is to be found in these books. My
heart is grieved to see how many of the best Christians this
accursed, proud, knavish heathen has fooled and led astray
with his false words. God sent him as a plague for our
sins.

Does not the wretched man in his best book, Of the
Soul, teach that the soul dies with the body, though many
have tried to save him with vain words, as if we had not
the Holy Scriptures to teach us fully of all things of which
Aristotle had not the slightest perception? Yet this dead
heathen has conquered, and has hindered and almost sup
pressed the books of the living God ; so that, when I see
all this misery I cannot but think that the evil spirit has
introduced this study.

Then there is the Ethics, which is accounted one of the
best, though no book is more directly contrary to God's will
and the Christian virtues. Oh that such books could be
kept out of the reach of all Christians! Let no one object
that I say too much, or speak without knowledge. My
friend, I know of what I speak. I know Aristotle as well
as you or men like you. I have read him with more under-

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY H39

standing than St. Thomas or Scotus, which T may say
without arrogance, and can prove if need be. It matters
not that so many great minds have exercised themselves in
these matters for many hundred years. Such objections do
not affect me as they might have done once, since it is
plain as day that many more errors have existed for many
hundred years in the world and the universities.

I would, however, gladly consent that Aristotle's books
of Logic, Rhetoric, and Poetry, should be retained, or they
might be usefully studied in a condensed form, to practise
young people in speaking and preaching; but the notes and
comments should be abolished, and, just as Cicero's Rhetoric
is read without note or comment, Aristotle's Logic should
be read without such long commentaries. But now neither
speaking nor preaching is taught out of them, and they
are used only for disputation and toilsomeness. Besides
this, there are languages — Latin, Greek, and Hebrew — the
mathematics, history; which I recommend to men of higher
understanding: and other matters, which will come of
themselves, if they seriously strive after reform. And truly
it is an important matter, for it concerns the teaching and
training of Christian youths and of our noble people, in
whom Christianity still abides. Therefore I think that pope
and emperor could have no better task than the reformation
of the universities, just as there is nothing more devilishly
mischievous than an unreformed university.

Physicians I would leave to reform their own faculty;
lawyers and theologians I take under my charge, and say
firstly that it would be right to abolish the canon law
entirely, from beginning to end, more especially the decretals.
We are taught quite sufficiently in the Bible how we ought
to act; all this study only prevents the study of the Scrip
tures, and for the most part it is tainted with covetousness
and pride. And even though there were some good in it,
it should nevertheless be destroyed, for the Pope having the
canon law in scnmo rectoris* all further study is useless
and deceitful. At the present time the canon law is not to
be found in the books, but m the whims of the Pope and
his sycophants. You may have settled a matter in the best

* In the shrine of bis heart.

340 LUTHER

possible way according to the canon law, but the Pope has
his scrinium pcctoris, to which all law must bow in all the
world. Now this scrinium is oftentimes directed by some
knave and the devil himself, whilst it boasts that it is
directed by the Holy Ghost. This is the way they treat
Christ's poor people, imposing many laws and keeping
none, forcing others to keep them or to free themselves by
money.

Therefore, since the Pope and his followers have can
celled the whole canon law, despising it and setting their own
will above all the world, we should follow them and reject
the books. Why should we study them to no purpose ? We
should never be able to know the Pope's caprice, which has
now become the canon law. Let it fall then in God's name,
after having risen in the devil's name. Let there be hence
forth no doctor dccretorum, but let them all be doctores
scrinii papalis, that is the Pope's sycophants. They say that
there is no better temporal government than among the
Turks, though they have no canon nor civil law, but only
their Koran ; we must at least own that there is no worse
government than ours, with its canon and civil law, for no
estate lives according to the Scriptures, or even according
to natural reason.

The civil law, too, good God ! what a wilderness it is
become ! It is, indeed, much better, more skilful, and more
honest than the canon law, of which nothing is good but the
name. Still there is far too much of it. Surely good
governors, in addition to the Holy Scriptures, would be law
enough, as St. Paul says, " Is it so that there is not a wise
man among you, no, not one that shall be able to judge
between his brethren?" (i Cor. vi. 5). I think also that
the common law and the usage of the country should be
preferred to the law of the empire, and that the law of
the empire should only be used in cases of necessity. And
would to God that, as each land has its own peculiar char
acter and nature, they could all be governed by their own
simple laws, just as they were governed before the law of
the empire was devised, and as many are governed even
now ! Elaborate and far-fetched laws are only burdensome
to the people, and a hindrance rather than a help to business.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 341

But I hope that others have thought of this, and considered
it to more purpose than I could.

Our worthy theologians have saved themselves much
trouble and labour by leaving the Bible alone and only
reading the Sentences." I should have thought that young
theologians might begin by studying the Sentences, and that
doctors should study the Bible. Now they invert this: the
Bible is the first thing they study ; this ceases with the
Bachelor's degree ; the Sentences are the last, and these
they keep forever with the Doctor's degree, and this, too,
under such sacred obligation that one that is not a priest
may read the Bible, but a priest must read the Sentences;
so that, as far as I can see. a married man might be a
doctor in the Bible, but not in the Sentences. How should
we prosper so long as we act so perversely, and degrade the
Bible, the holy word of God? Besides this, the Pope orders
with many stringent words that his laws be read and used
in schools and courts; while the law of the Gospel is but
little considered. The result is that in schools and courts
the Gospel lies dusty underneath the benches, so that the
Pope's mischievous laws may alone be in force.

Since then \ve hold the name and title of teachers of
the Holy Scriptures, we should verily be forced to act
according to our title, and to teach the Holy Scriptures
and nothing else. Although, indeed, it is a proud, presump
tuous title for a man to proclaim himself teacher of the
Scriptures, still it could be suffered, if the works confirmed
the title. But as it is, under the rule of the Sentences, we
find among theologians more human and heathenish fallacies
than true holy knowledge of the Scriptures, ^'hat then are
we to do ? I knov not, except to pray humbly to God to
give us Doctors of Theology. Doctors of Arts, of Medicine,
cf Law, of the Sentences, may be made by popes, emperors,
and the universities : but of this we may be certain : a
Doctor of the Holv Scriptures can be made by none but the
Holy Ghost, as Christ says, " They shall all be taught of
God" (John vi. 45). Now the Holy Ghost does not con-

88 Luther refers here to the " Sentence? " of Pctrui Lombardits, the so-
called mcgistcr scntcntiarum, which formed the hnsis of all dogmatic inter
pretation from about the middle of the twelfth century down to the
Reformation.

34k LUTHER

sider red caps or brown, or any other pomp, nor whether
we are young or old, layman or priest, monk or secular,
virgin or married; nay, He once spoke by an ass against
the prophet that rode on it. Would to God we were worthy
of having svich doctors given us, be they laymen or priests,
married or unmarried ! But now they try to fo^ce the
Holy Ghost to enter into popes, bishops, or doctors, though
there is no sign to show that He is in them.

We must also lessen the number of theological books,
and choose the best, for it is not the number of books that
makes the learned man, nor much reading, but good books
often read, however few, makes a man learned in the Scrip
tures and pious. Even the Fathers should only be read
for a short time as an introduction to the Scriptures. As
it is we read nothing else, and never get from them into
the Scriptures, as if one should be gazing at the signposts
and never follow the road. These good Fathers wished to
lead us into the Scriptures by their writings, whereas we
lead ourselves out by them, though the Scriptures are our
vineyard, in which we should all work and exercise our
selves.

Above all, in schools of all kinds the chief and most
common lesson should be the Scriptures, and for young boys
the Gospel; and would to God each town had also a girls'
school, in which girls might be taught the Gospel for an
hour daily, either in German or Latin ! In truth, schools,
monasteries, and convents were founded for this purpose,
and with good Christian intentions, as we read concerning
St. Agnes and other saints"; then were there holy virgins
and martyrs; and in those times it was well with Christen
dom; but now it has been turned into nothing but praying
and singing. Should not every Christian be expected by
his ninth or tenth year to know all the holy Gospels, con
taining as they do his very name and life? A spinner or a
seamstress teaches her daughter her trade while she is
young, but now even the most learned prelates and bishops
do not know the Gospel.

Oh, how badly we treat all these poor young people that
are entrusted to us for discipline and instruction! and a

* See above, pp. 316, seq.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 343

heavy reckoning shall we have to give for it that we keep
them from the word of God; their fate is that described
by Jeremiah: "Mine eyes do fail with tears, my bowels
are troubled, my liver is poured upon the earth, for the
destruction of the daughter of my people, because the chil
dren and the sucklings swoon in the streets of the city.
They say to their mothers, Where is corn and wine ? when
they swooned as the wounded in the streets of the city, when
their soul was poured out into their mothers' bosom "
(Lam. ii. n, 12). We do not perceive all this misery, how
the young folk are being pitifully corrupted in the midst
of Christendom, all for want of the Gospel, which we should
always read and study with them.

However, even if the High Schools studied the Scriptures
diligently we should not send every one to them, as we
do now, when nothing is considered but numbers, and every
man wishes to have a Doctor's title ; we should only send
the aptest pupils, well prepared in the lower schools. This
should be seen to by princes or the magistrates of the towns,
and they should take care none but apt pupils be sent. But
where the Holy Scriptures are not the rule, I advise no one
to send his child. Everything must perish where God's
word is not studied unceasingly; and so we see what manner
of men there are now in the High Schools, and all this is
the fault of no one but of the Pope, the bishops, and the
prelates, to whom the welfare of the young has been en
trusted. For the High Schools should only train men of
good understanding in the Scriptures, who wish to become
bishops and priests, and to stand at our head against
heretics and the devil and all the world. But where do we
find this? I greatly fear the High Schools are nothing
but great gates of hell, unless they diligently study the
Holy Scriptures and teach them to the young people.

26. I know well the Romish mob will object and loudly
pretend that the Pope took the holy Roman empire from the
Greek emperor and gave it to Germany, for which honour
and favour he is supposed to deserve submission and thanks
and all other kinds of returns from the Germans. For this
reason they will perhaps assume to oppose all attempts to
reform them, and will let no regard be paid to anything

344 LUTHER

but those donations of the Roman empire. This is also the
reason why they have so arbitrarily and proudly persecuted
and oppressed many good emperors, so that it were pity to
tell, and with the same cleverness have they made them
selves lords of all the temporal power and authority, in vio
lation of the holy Gospel ; and accordingly I must speak of
this matter also.

There is no doubt that the true Roman empire, of which
the prophets (Num. xxiv. 24 and Daniel ii. 44) spoke, was
long ago destroyed, as Balaam clearly foretold, saying, " And
ships shall come from the coast of Chittim, and shall afflict
Asshur, and shall afflict Eber, and he also shall perish for
ever" (Num. xxiv. 24). as And this was done by the Goths,
and more especially since the empire of the Turks was
formed, about one thousand years ago, and so gradually
Asia and Africa were lost, and subsequently France, Spain,
and finally Venice arose, so that Rome retains no part of its
former power.

Since then the Pope could not force the Greeks and the
emperor at Constantinople, who is the hereditary Roman
emperor, to obey his will, he invented this device to rob him
of his empire and title, and to give it to the Germans, who
were at that time strong and of good repute, in order that
they might take the power of the Roman empire and hold it
of the Pope ; and this is what actually has happened. It was
taken from the emperor at Constantinople, and the name and
title were given to us Germans, and therewith we became
subject to the Pope, and he has built up a new Roman em
pire on the Germans. For the other empire, the original,
came to an end long ago, as was said above.

Thus the Roman see has got what it wished: Rome has
been taken possession of, and the German emperor driven
out and bound by oaths not to dwell in Rome. lie is to be
Roman emperor and nevertheless not to dwell in Rome, and,
moreover, always to depend on the Pope and his followers,
and to do their will. We are to have the title, and they are
to have the lands and the cities. For they have always made
our simplicity the tool of their pride and tyranny, and they

88 Luther here follows the Vulgate, translating the above verse: " Es
«verden die Romer kommen und die Juden verstoren: und hernach werden
sie auch untergehen."

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 345

consider us as stupid Germans, to be deceived and fooled
by them as they choose.

Well, for our Lord God it is a small thing to toss king
doms and principalities hither and thither; He is so free
with them that He will sometimes take a kingdom from a
good man and give it to a knave, sometimes through the
treachery of false, wicked men, sometimes by inheritance,
as we read concerning Persia, Greece, and nearly all king
doms ; and Daniel says, " Wisdom and might are His ; and
He changes the times and the seasons, and He removeth
kings and setteth up kings" (Dan. ii. 20, 21). Therefore no
one need think it a grand matter if he has a kingdom given
to him, especially if he be a Christian; and so we Germans
need not be proud of having had a new Roman empire given
us. For in His eyes it is a poor gift, that He sometimes
gives to the least deserving, as Daniel says, " And all the
inhabitants of the earth are reputed as nothing; and He
does according to His will in the army of heaven, and
among the inhabitants of the earth" (Dan. iv. 35).

Now, although the Pope has violently and unjustly robbed
the true emperor of the Roman empire, or its name, and
has given it to us Germans, yet it is certain that God has
used the Pope's wickedness to give the German nation this
empire and to raise up a new Roman empire, that exists
now, after the fall of the old empire. We gave the Pope
no cause for this action, nor did we understand his false
aims and schemes; but still, through the craft and knavery
of the popes, we have, alas ! all too dearly, paid the price of
this empire with incalculable bloodshed, with the loss of
our liberty, with the robbery of our wealth, especially of our
churches and benefices, and with unspeakable treachery and
insult. We have the empire in name, but the Pope has our
wealth, our honour, our bodies, lives, and souls and all that
we have. This was the way to deceive the Germans, and to
deceive them by shuffling. What the popes wished was to
become emperors; and as they could not do this, they put
themselves above the emperors.

Since, then, we have received this empire through God's
providence and the schemes of evil men, without our fault,
I would not advise that we should give it up, but that we

346 LUTHER

should govern it honestly, in the fear of God, so long as He
is pleased to let us hold it. For, as 1 have said, it is no
matter to Him how a kingdom is come by, but He will have
it duly governed. If the popes took it from others dis
honestly, we at least did not come by it dishonestly. It was
given to us through evil men, under the will of God, to
whom we have more regard than the false intentions of the
popes, who wished to be emperors and more than emperors
and to fool and mock us with the name.

The King of Babylon obtained his kingdom by force and
robbery ; yet God would have it governed by the holy princes
Daniel, Ananias, Asarias, and Misael. Much more then does
He require this empire to be governed by the Christian
princes of Germany, though the Pope may have stolen, or
robbed, or newly fashioned it. It is all God's ordering,
which came to pass before we knew of it.

Therefore the Pope and his followers have no reason to
boast that they did a great kindness to the German nation
in giving them this Roman empire ; firstly, because they in
tended no good to us, in the matter, but only abused our sim
plicity to strengthen their own power against the Roman
emperor at Constantinople, from whom, against God and
justice, the Pope has taken what he had no right to.

Secondly, the Pope sought to give the empire, not to us,
but to himself, and to become lord over all our power, liberty,
wealth, body and soul, and through us over all the world,
if God had not prevented it, as he plainly says in his de
cretals, and has tried with many mischievous tricks in the
case of many German emperors. Thus we Germans have
been taught in plain German : whilst we expected to become
lords, we have become the servants of the most crafty
tyrants ; we have the name, title, and arms of the empire,
but the Pope has the treasure, authority, law, and freedom ;
thus, whilst the Pope eats the kernel, he leaves us the empty
shells to play with.

Now may God help us (who, as I have said, assigned us
this kingdom through crafty tyrants, and charged us to
govern it) to act according to our name, title, and arms, and
to secure our freedom, and thus let the Romans see at last
what we have received of God through them. If they boast

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 347

that they have given us an empire, well, be it so, by all
means; then let the Pope give up Rome, all he has of the
empire, and free our country from his unbearable taxes and
robberies, and give back to us our liberty, authority, wealth,
honour, body, and soul, rendering to the empire those things
that are the empire's, so as to act in accordance with his
words and pretences.

But if he will not do this, what game is he playing with
all his falsehoods and pretences? Was it not enough to lead
this great people by the nose for so many hundred years?
Because the Pope crowns or makes the Emperor, it does not
follow that he is above him ; for the prophet, St. Samuel,
anointed and crowned King Saul and David, at God's com
mand, and was yet subject to them. And the prophet Nathan
anointed King Solomon, and yet was not placed over him ;
moreover, St. Eli.^ha let one of his servants anoint King
Jehu of Israel, yet they obeyed him. And it has never yet
happened in the whole world that any one was above the
king because he consecrated or crowned him, except in the
case of the Pope.

Now he is himself crowned pope by three cardinals; yet
they are subject to him, and he is above them. Why, then,
contrary to his own example and to the doctrine and prac
tice of the whole world and the Scriptures, should he exalt
himself above the temporal authorities, and the empire, for
no other reason than that he crowns, and consecrates the
Emperor? It suffices that he is above him in all Divine
matters — that is, in preaching, teaching, and the ministra
tion of the Sacrament — in which matters, however, every
priest or bishop is above all other men, just as St. Ambrose
in his chair was above the Emperor Theodosius, and the
prophet Nathan above David, and Samuel above Saul.
Therefore let the German emperor be a true free emperor,
and let not his authority or his sword be overborne by these
blind pretences of the Pope's sycophants, as if they were to
be exceptions, and be above the temporal sword in all
things.

27. Let this be enough about the faults of the spiritual
estate, though many more might be found, if the matter
were properly considered; we must now consider the de-

348 LUTHER

fects of the temporal estates. In the first place, we require
a general law and consent of the German nation against
profusion and extravagance in dress, which is the cause of
so much poverty among the nobles and the people. Surely
God has given to us, as to other nations, enough wool, fur,
flax, and whatever else is required for the decent clothing
of every class ; and it cannot be necessary to spend such
enormous sums for silk, velvet, cloth of gold, and all other
kinds of outlandish stuff. I think that even if the Pope did
not rob us Germans with his unbearable taxes, we should
be robbed more than enough by these secret thieves, the
dealers in silk and velvet. As it is, we see that every man
wishes to be every other man's equal, and that this causes
and increases pride and envy among us, as we deserve, all
which would cease, with many ether misfortunes, if our
self-will would but let us be gratefully content with what
God has given us.

It is similarly necessary to diminish the use of spices,
which is one of the ships in which our gold is sent away
from Germany. God's mercy has given us more food, and
that both precious and good, than is to be found in other
countries. I shall probably be accused of making foolish
and impossible suggestions, as if I wished to destroy the
great business of commerce. But I am only doing my part;
if the community does not mend matters, every man should
do it himself. I do not see many good manners that have
ever come into a land through commerce, and therefore God
let the people of Israel dwell far from the sea and not carry
on much trade.

But without doubt the greatest misfortune of the Germans
is buying on usury. But for this, many a man would have
to leave unbought his silk, velvet, cloth of gold, spices, and
all other luxuries. The system has not been in force for
more than one hundred years, and has already brought pov
erty, misery, and destruction on almost all princes, founda
tions, cities, nobles, and heirs. If it continues for another
hundred years Germany will be left without a farthing,
and we shall be reduced to eating one another. The devil
invented this system, and the Pope has done an injury to
the whole world by sanctioning it.

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 349

My request and my cry therefore is this: Let each man
consider the destruction of himself and his family, which
is no longer at the door, but has entered the house; and
let emperors, princes, lords, and corporations see to the
condemnation and prohibition of this kind of trade, with
out considering the opposition of the Pope and all his
justice and injustice, nor whether livings or endowments
depend upon it. Better a single fief in a city based on a
freehold estate or honest interest, than a hundred based
on usury ; yea, a single endowment on usury is worse
and more grievous than twenty based on freehold estate.
Truly this usury is a sign and warning that the world has
been given over to the devil for its sins, and that we are
losing our spiritual and temporal welfare alike; yet we
heed it not.

Doubtless we should also find some bridle for the Fnggers
and similar companies. Is it possible that in a single man's
lifetime such great wealth should be collected together, if
all were done rightly and according to God's will? I am not
skilled in accounts, but I do not understand how it is possible
for one hundred guilders to gain twenty in a year, or how
one guilder can gain another, and that not out of the soil,
or by cattle, seeing that possessions depend not on the wit
of men, but on the blessing of God. I commend this to those
that are skilled in worldly affairs. I as a theologian blame
nothing but the evil appearance, of which St. Paul says,
" Abstain from all appearance of evil " (i Thess. v. 22). All
I know is that it were much more godly to encourage agri
culture and lessen commerce ; and that they do the best who,
according to the Scriptures, till the ground to get their
living, as we are all commanded in Adam : " Cursed is the
ground for thy sake. . . . Thorns also and thistles shall it
bring forth to thee. ... In the sweat of thy face shalt thou
eat bread" (Gen. iii. 17—19). There is still much ground
that is not ploughed or tilled.

Then there is the excess in eating and drinking, for which
we Germans have an ill reputation in foreign countries, as
our special vice, and which has become so common, ami
gained so much the upper hand, that sermons avail nothing.
The loss of money caused by it is not the worst; but in iio

350 LUTHER

train come murder, adultery, theft, blasphemy, and all vices.
The temporal power should do something to prevent it;
otherwise it will come to pass, as Christ foretold, that the
last day shall come as a thief in the night, and shall find
them eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage,
planting and building, buying and selling (Matt. xxiv. 38;
Luke xvii. 26), just as things go on now, and that so strongly
that I apprehend lest the day of judgment be at hand, even
now when we least expect it.

Lastly, is it not a terrible thing that we Christians
should maintain public brothels, though we all vow chastity
in our baptism? I well know all that can be said on this
matter: that it is not peculiar to one nation, that it would
be difficult to demolish it, and that it is better thus than that
virgins, or married women, or honourable women should be
dishonoured. But should not the spiritual and temporal
powers combine to find some means of meeting these diffi
culties without any such heathen practice? If the people
of Israel existed without this scandal, why should not a
Christian nation be able to do so ? How do so many towns
and villages manage to exist without these houses? Why
should not great cities be able to do so?

In all, however, that I have said above, my object has
been to show how much good temporal authority might do,
and what should be the duty of all authorities, so that every
man might learn what a terrible thing it is to rule and to
have the chief place. What boots it though a ruler be in
his own person as holy as St. Peter, if he be not diligent to
help his subjects in these matters? His very authority will
be his condemnation ; for it is the duty of those in authority
to seek the good of their subjects. But if those in authority
considered how young people might be brought together in
marriage, the prospect of marriage would help every man
and protect him from temptations.

But as it is every man is induced to become a priest or
a monk; and of all these I am afraid not one in a hundred
has any other motive but the wish of getting a livelihood
and the uncertainty of maintaining a family. Therefore
they begin by a dissolute life and sow their wild oats (as
they say), but I fear they rather gather in a store of wild

TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY 351

oats.** I hold the proverb to be true, "Most men become
monks and priests in desperation." That is why things are
as we see them.

But in order that many sins may be prevented that are be
coming too common, I would honestly advise that no boy
or girl be allowed to take the vow of chastity or to enter a
religious life before the age of thirty years. For this re
quires a special grace, as St. Paul says. Therefore, unless
God specially urge any one to a religious life, he will do
well to leave all vows and devotions alone. I say further,
If a man has so little faith in God as to fear that he will
be unable to maintain himself in the married state, and if
this fear is the only thing that makes him become a priest,
then I implore him, for his own soul's sake, not to become a
priest, but rather to become a peasant, or what he will. For
if simple trust in God be necessary to ensure temporal sup
port, tenfold trust in God is necessary to live a religious
life. If you do not trust to God for your worldly food, how
can you trust to Him for your spiritual food? Alas! this
unbelief and want of faith destroys all tilings, and leads us
into all misery, as we see among all conditions of men.

Much might be said concerning all this misery. Young
people have no one to look after them, they are left to go
on just as they like, and those in authority are of no more
use to them than if they did not exist, though this should be
the chief care of the Pope, of bishops, lords, and councils.
They wish to rule over everything, everywhere, and yet they
are of no use. Oh, what a rare sight, for these reasons,
will a lord or ruler be in heaven, though he might build a
hundred churches to God and raise all the dead !

But this may suffice for the present. For of what con
cerns the temporal authority and the nobles I have, I think,
said enough in my tract on Good ll/rorks. For their lives and
governments leave room enough for improvement ; but there
is no comparison between spiritual and temporal abuses, as
I have there shown. I daresay I have sung a lofty strain,
that I have proposed many things that will be thought im
possible, and attacked many points too sharply. But what

88 Luther uses the expression ansbubcn in the sense of sich austoben, viz.,
" to storm out one's passion?," and then coins the word sich einbubfn,
Tiz., " to storm in one's passions."

352 TO THE GERMAN NOBILITY

was I to do? I was bound to say this: if I had the power,
this is what I would do. I had rather incur the world's
anger than God's; they cannot take from me more than
my life. I have hitherto made many offers of peace to my
adversaries ; but, as I see, God has forced me through them
to open my mouth wider and wider, and, because they do
not keep quiet, to give them enough cause for speaking, bark
ing, shouting, and writing. Well, then, I have another song
still to sing concerning them and Rome; if they wish to hear
it, I will sing it to them, and sing with all my might. Do
you understand, my friend Rome, what I mean ?

I have frequently offered to submit my writings for in
quiry and examination, but in vain, though I know, if I am
in the right, I must be condemned upon earth and justified
by Christ alone in heaven. For all the Scriptures teach us
that the affairs of Christians and Christendom must be
judged by God alone; they have never yet been justified by
men in this world, but the opposition has always been too
strong. My greatest care and fear is lest my cause be not
condemned by men, by which I should know for certain that
it does not please God. Therefore let them go freely to work,
pope, bishop, priest, monk, or •doctor ; they are the true peo
ple to persecute the truth, as they have always done. May
God grant us all a Christian understanding, and especially
to the Christian nobility of the German nation true spiritual
courage, to do what is best for our unhappy Church. Amen !

At Wittenberg, in the year 1520.

CONCERNING
CHRISTIAN LIBERTY

LETTER OF MARTIN LUTHER TO POPE LEO X

A MONG those monstrous evils of this age with which I
l\ have now for three years been waging war, I am
-*--*- sometimes compelled to look to you and to call you to
mind, most blessed father Leo. In truth, since you alone are
everywhere considered as being the cause of my engaging
in war, I cannot at any time fail to remember you ; and
although I have been compelled by the causeless raging of
your impious flatterers against me to appeal from your seat
to a future council — fearless of the futile decrees of your
predecessors Pius and Julius, who in their foolish tyranny
prohibited such an action — yet I have never been so alienated
in feeling from your Blessedness as not to have sought with
all my might, in diligent prayer and crying to God, all the
best gifts for you and for your see. But those who have
hitherto endeavoured to terrify me with the majesty of your
name and authority, I have begun quite to despise and
triumph over. One thing I see remaining which I cannot
despise, and this has been the reason of my writing anew to
your Blessedness : namely, that I find that blame is cast on
me, and that it is imputed to me as a great offence, that in
my rashness I am judged to have spared not even your
person.

Now, to confess the truth openly, I am conscious that,
whenever I have had to mention your person, I have said
nothing of you but what was honourable and good. If I
had done otherwise, I could by no means have approved my
own conduct, but should have supported with all my power
HC xxxvi 353 (L)

354 LUTHER

the judgment of those men concerning me, nor would any
thing have pleased me better, than to recant such rashness
and impiety. I have called you Daniel in Babylon ; and
every reader thoroughly knows with what distinguished zeal
I defended your conspicuous innocence against Silvester,
who tried to stain it. Indeed, the published opinion of so
many great men and the repute of your blameless life are too
widely famed and too much reverenced throughout the world
to be assailable by any man, of however great name, or by
any arts. I am not so foolish as to attack one whom every
body praises; nay, it has been and always will be my desire
not to attack even those whom public repute disgraces. I am
not delighted at the faults of any man, since I am very con
scious myself of the great beam in my own eye, nor can I
be the first to cast a stone at the adulteress.

I have indeed inveighed sharply against impious doctrines,
and I have not been slack to censure my adversaries on ac
count, not of their bad morals, but of their impiety. And
for this I am so far from being sorry that I have brought
my mind to despise the judgments of men and to persevere
in this vehement zeal, according to the example of Christ,
who, in His zeal, calls His adversaries a generation of vipers,
blind, hypocrites, and children of the devil. Paul, too, charges
the sorcerer with being a child of the devil, full of all sub
tlety and all malice; and defames certain persons as evil
workers, dogs, and deceivers. In the opinion of those deli
cate-eared persons, nothing could be more bitter or intem
perate than Paul's language. What can be more bitter than
the words of the prophets? The ears of our generation have
been made so delicate by the senseless multitude of flatterers
that, as soon as we perceive that anything of ours is not ap
proved of, we cry out that we are being bitterly assailed; and
when we can repel the truth by no other pretence, we es
cape by attributing bitterness, impatience, intemperance, to
our adversaries. What would be the use of salt if it were
not pungent, or of the edge of the sword if it did not slay?
Accursed is the man who does the work of the Lord
deceitfully.

Wherefore, most excellent Leo, I beseech you to accept my
vindication, made in this letter, and to persuade yourself that

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 355

t have never thought any evil concerning your person ;
further, that I am one who desires that eternal blessing may
fall to your lot, and that I have no dispute with any man
concerning morals, but only concerning the word of truth.
In all other things I will yield to any one, but I neither can
nor will forsake and deny the word. He who thinks other
wise of me, or has taken in my words in another sense, does
not think rightly, and has not taken in the truth.

Your see, however, which is called the Court of Rome, and
which neither you nor any man can deny to be more corrupt
than any Babylon or Sodom, and quite, as I believe, of a lost,
desperate, and hopeless impiety, this I have verily abominated,
and have felt indignant that the people of Christ should be
cheated under your name and the pretext of the Church of
Rome; and so I have resisted, and will resist, as long as the
spirit of faith shall live in me. Not that I am striving after
impossibilities, or hoping that by my labours alone, against
the furious opposition of so many flatterers, any good can
be done in that most disordered Babylon ; but that I feel
myself a debtor to my brethren, and am bound to take thought
for them, that fewer of them may be ruined, or that their
ruin may be less complete, by the plagues of Rome. For
many years now, nothing else has overflowed from Rome
into the world — as you are not ignorant — than the laying
waste of goods, of bodies, and of souls, and the worst exam
ples of all the worst things. These things are clearer than
the light to all men ; and the Church of Rome, formerly the
most holy of all Churches, has become the most lawless den
of thieves, the most shameless of all brothels, the very king
dom of sin, death, and hell; so that not even antichrist, if he
were to come, could devise any addition to its wickedness.

Meanwhile you, Leo, are sitting like a lamb in the midst
of wolves, like Daniel in the midst of lions, and, with Ezekiel,
you dwell among scorpions. What opposition can you alone
make to these monstrous evils? Take to yourself three or
four of the most learned and best of the cardinals. What
are these among so many? You would all perish by poison
before you could undertake to decide on a remedy. It is all
over with the Court of Rome; the wrath of God has come
upon her to the uttermost. She hates councils; she dreads

356 LUTHER

to be reformed ; she cannot restrain the madness of her im
piety; she fills up the sentence passed on her mother, of
whom it is said, " We would have healed Babylon, but she
is not healed; let us forsake her." It had been your duty
and that of your cardinals to apply a remedy to these evils,
but this gout laughs at the physician's hand, and the chariot
does not obey the reins. Under the influence of these feel
ings, I have always grieved that you, most excellent Leo,
who were worthy of a better age, have been made pontiff in
this. For the Roman Court is not worthy of you and those
like you, but of Satan himself, who in truth is more the ruler
in that Babylon than you are.

Oh, would that, having laid aside that glory which your
most abandoned enemies declare to be yours, you were
living rather in the office of a private priest or on your
paternal inheritance ! In that glory none are worthy to
glory, except the race of Iscariot, the children of perdition.
For what happens in your court, Leo, except that, the more
wicked and execrable any man is, the more prosperously he
can use your name and authority for the ruin of the prop
erty and souls of men, for the multiplication of crimes, for
the oppression of faith and truth and of the whole Church
of God? Oh, Leo! in reality most unfortunate, and sitting
on a most perilous throne, I tell you the truth, because I wish
you well; for if Bernard felt compassion for his Anastasius
at a time when the Roman see, though even then most cor
rupt, was as yet ruling with better hope than now, why
should not we lament, to whom so much further corruption
and ruin has been added in three hundred years?

Is it not true that there is nothing under the vast heavens
more corrupt, more pestilential, more hateful, than the
Court of Rome? She incomparably surpasses the impiety
of the Turks, so that in very truth she, who was formerly
the gate of heaven, is now a sort of open mouth of hell, and
such a mouth as, under the urgent wrath of God, cannot be
blocked up ; one course alone being left to us wretched men :
to call back and save some few, if we can, from that Roman
gulf.

Behold, Leo, my father, with what purpose and on what
principle it is that I have stormed against that seat of pesti-

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 357

lence. I am so far from having felt any rage against your
person that I even hoped to gain favour with you and to
aid you in your welfare by striking actively and vigorously
at that your prison, nay, your hell. For whatever the ef
forts of all minds can contrive against the confusion of that
impious Court will be advantageous to you and to your wel
fare, and to many others with you. Those who do harm to
her are doing your office ; those who in every way abhor
her are glorifying Christ; in short, those are Christians who
are not Romans.

But, to say yet more, even this never entered my heart:
to inveigh against the Court of Rome or to dispute at all
about her. For, seeing all remedies for her health to be
desperate, I looked on her with contempt, and, giving her a
bill of divorcement, said to her, " He that is unjust, let him be
unjust still; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still,"
giving myself up to the peaceful and quiet study of sacred
literature, that by this I might be of use to the brethren
living about me.

While I was making some advance in these studies, Satan
opened his eyes and goaded on his servant John Eccius,
that notorious adversary of Christ, by the unchecked lust for
fame, to drag me unexpectedly into the arena, trying to
catch me in one little word concerning the primacy of the
Church of Rome, which had fallen from me in passing.
That boastful Thraso, foaming and gnashing his teeth, pro
claimed that he would dare all things for the glory of God
and for the honour of the holy apostolic seat; and, being
puffed up respecting your power, which he was about to
misuse, he looked forward with all certainty to victory;
seeking to promote, not so much the primacy of Peter, as
his own pre-eminence among the theologians of this age; for
he thought it would contribute in no slight degree to this,
if he were to lead Luther in triumph. The result having
proved unfortunate for the sophist, an incredible rage tor
ments him ; for he feels that whatever discredit to Rome
has arisen through me has been caused by the fault of him
self alone.

Suffer me, I pray you, most excellent Leo, both to plead
my own cause, and to accuse your true enemies. I believe

358 LUTHER

it is known to you in what way Cardinal Cajetan, your im
prudent and unfortunate, nay unfaithful, legate, acted to
wards me. When, on account of my reverence for your name,
I had placed myself and all that was mine in his hands, he
did not so act as to establish peace, which he could easily
have established by one little word, since I at that time
promised to be silent and to make an end of my case, if he
would command my adversaries to do the same. But that
man of pride, not content with this agreement, began to
justify my adversaries, to give them free licence, and to
order me to recant, a thing which was certainly not in his
commission. Thus indeed, when the case was in the best
position, it came through his vexatious tyranny into a much
worse one. Therefore whatever has followed upon this is
the fault not of Luther, but entirely of Cajetan, since he
did not suffer me to be silent and remain quiet, which at
that time I was entreating for with all my might. What
more was it my duty to do?

Next came Charles Miltitz, also a nuncio from your
Blessedness. He, though he went up and down with much
and varied exertion, and omitted nothing which could tend
to restore the position of the cause thrown into confusion by
the rashness and pride of Cajetan, had difficulty, even with
the help of that very illustrious prince the Elector Fred
erick, in at last bringing about more than one familiar con
ference with me. In these I again yielded to your great
name, and was prepared to keep silence, and to accept as
my judge either the Archbishop of Treves, or the Bishop of
Naumburg; and thus it was done and concluded. While
this was being done with good hope of success, lo! that
other and greater enemy of yours, Eccius, rushed in with
his Leipsic disputation, which he had undertaken against
Carlstadt, and, having taken up a new question concerning
the primacy of the Pope, turned his arms unexpectedly
against me, and completely overthrew the plan for peace.
Meanwhile Charles Miltitz was waiting, disputations were
held, judges were being chosen, but no decision was arrived
at. And no wonder ! for by the falsehoods, pretences, and
arts of Eccius the whole business was brought into such
thorough disorder, confusion, and festering soreness, that,

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 359

whichever way the sentence might lean, a greater confla
gration was sure to arise; for he was seeking, not after
truth, but after his own credit. In this case too I omitted
nothing which it was right that I should do.

I confess that on this occasion no small part of the cor
ruptions of Rome came to light; but, if there was any offence
in this, it was the fault of Eccius, who, in taking on him a
burden beyond his strength, and in furiously aiming at credit
for himself, unveiled to the whole world the disgrace of
Rome.

Here is that enemy of yours, Leo, or rather of your Court;
by his example alone we may learn that an enemy is not
more baneful than a flatterer. For what did he bring about
by his flattery, except evils which no king could have
brought about? At this day the name of the Court of
Rome stinks in the nostrils of the world, the papal authority
is growing weak, and its notorious ignorance is evil spoken
of. We should hear none of these things, if Eccius had not
disturbed the plans of Miltitz and myself for peace. He
feels this clearly enough himself in the indignation he
shows, too late and in vain, against the publication of my
books. He ought to have reflected on this at the time when
he was all mad for renown, and was seeking in your cause
nothing but his own objects, and that with the greatest peril
to you. The foolish man hoped that, from fear of your
name, I should yield and keep silence; for I do not think
he presumed on his talents and learning. Now, when he
sees that I am very confident and speak aloud, he repents too
late of his rashness, and sees — if indeed he does see it — that
there is One in heaven who resists the proud, and humbles
the presumptuous.

Since then we were bringing about by this disputation
nothing but the greater confusion of the cause of Rome,
Charles Miltitz for the third time addressed the Fathers
of the Order, assembled in chapter, and sought their advice
for the settlement of the case, as being now in a most
troubled and perilous state. Since, by the favour of God,
there was no hope of proceeding against me by force, some
of the more noted of their number were sent to me, and
begged me at least to show respect to your person and to

360 LUTHER

vindicate in a humble letter both your innocence and my own.
They said that the affair was not as yet in a position of
extreme hopelessness, if Leo X., in his inborn kindliness,
would put his hand to it. On this I, who have always of
fered and wished for peace, in order that I might devote my
self to calmer and more useful pursuits, and who for this
very purpose have acted with so much spirit and vehemence,
in order to put down by the strength and impetuosity of
my words, as well as of my feelings, men whom I saw to be
very far from equal to myself — I, I say, not only gladly
yielded, but even accepted it with joy and gratitude, as the
greatest kindness and benefit, if you should think it right to
satisfy my hopes.

Thus I come, most blessed Father, and in all abasement
beseech you to put to your hand, if it is possible, and im
pose a curb to those flatterers who are enemies of peace,
while they pretend peace. But there is no reason, most
blessed Father, why any one should assume that I am to
utter a recantation, unless he prefers to involve the case in
still greater confusion. Moreover, I cannot bear with laws
for the interpretation of the word of God, since the word
of God, which teaches liberty in all other things, ought not
to be bound. Saving these two things, there is nothing which
I am not able, and most heartily willing, to do or to suffer.
I hate contention ; I will challenge no one ; in return I
(vish not to be challenged; but, being challenged, I will not
be dumb in the cause of Christ my Master. For your
Blessedness will be able by one short and easy word to call
these controversies before you and suppress them, and to

impose silence and peace on both sides a word which I

have ever longed to hear.

Therefore, Leo, my Father, beware of listening to those
sirens who make you out to be not simply a man, but partly
a god, so that you can command and require whatever you
will. It will not happen so, nor will you prevail. You are
the servant of servants, and more than any other man, in
a most pitiable and perilous position. Let not those men
deceive you who pretend that you are lord of the world;
who will not allow any one to be a Christian without your
authority; who babble of your having power over heaven.

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 361

hell, and purgatory. These men are your enemies and
are seeking your soul to destroy it, as Isaiah says, " My
people, they that call thee blessed are themselves deceiving
thee." They are in error who raise you above councils
and the universal Church; they are in error who attribute
to you alone the right of interpreting Scripture. All these
men are seeking to set up their own impieties in the Church
under your name, and alas ! Satan has gained much through
them in the time of your predecessors.

In brief, trust not in any who exalt you, but in those who
humiliate you. For this is the judgment of God: " He hath
cast down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted
the humble." See how unlike Christ was to His successors,
though all will have it that they are His vicars. I fear
that in truth very many of them have been in too serious
a sense His vicars, for a vicar represents a prince who is
absent. Now if a pontiff rules while Christ is absent and
does not dwell in his heart, what else is he but a vicar of
Christ? And then what is that Church but a multitude
without Christ? What indeed is such a vicar but antichrist
and an idol? How much more rightly did the Apostles
speak, who call themselves servants of a present Christ,
not the vicars of an absent one !

Perhaps I am shamelessly bold in seeming to teach so
great a head, by whom all men ought to be taught, and from
whom, as those plagues of yours boast, the thrones of judges
receive their sentence ; but I imitate St. Bernard in his book
concerning Considerations addressed to Eugenius, a book
which ought to be known by heart by every pontiff. I
do this, not from any desire to teach, but as a duty, from
that simple and faithful solicitude which teaches us to be
anxious for all that is safe for our neighbours, and does
not allow considerations of worthiness or timvorthiness to
be entertained, being intent only on the dangers or advantage
of others. For since I know that your Blessedness is driven
and tossed by the waves at Rome, so that the depths of
the sea press on you with infinite perils, and that you are
labouring under such a condition of misery that you need
even the least help from any the least brother, I do not
seem to myself to be acting unsuitably if I forget your

362 LUTHER

majesty till I shall have fulfilled the office of chanty. I
will not flatter in so serious and perilous a matter; and
if in this you do not see that I am your friend and
most thoroughly your subject, there is One to see and
judge.

In fine, that I may not approach you empty-handed,
blessed Father, I bring with me this little treatise, published
under your name, as a good omen of the establishment of
peace and of good hope. By this you may perceive in what
pursuits I should prefer and be able to occupy myself to
more profit, if I were allowed, or had been hitherto allowed,
by your impious flatterers It is a small matter, if you look
to its exterior, but, unless I mistake, it is a summary of the
Christian life put together in small compass, if you appre
hend its meaning. I, in my poverty, have no other present
to make you, nor do you need anything else than to be
enriched by a spiritual gift. I commend myself to your
Paternity and Blessedness, whom may the Lord Jesus pre
serve for ever. Amen.

Wittenberg, 6th September, 1520.

CONCERNING CHRISTIAN LIBERTY

CHRISTIAN faith has appeared to many an easy thing;
nay, not a few even reckon it among the social virtues, as
it were; and this they do because they have not made
proof of it experimentally, and have never tasted of what
efficacy it is. For it is not possible for any man to write
well about it, or to understand well what is rightly writ
ten, who has not at some time tasted of its spirit, under
the pressure of tribulation; while he who has tasted of
it, even to a very small extent, can never write, speak,
think, or hear about it sufficiently. For it is a living
fountain, springing up into eternal life, as Christ calls it
in John iv.

Now, though I cannot boast of my abundance, and though
I know how poorly I am furnished, yet I hope that, after
having been vexed by various temptations, I have attained
some little drop of faith, and that I can speak of this matter,

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 363

it not with more elegance, certainly with more solidity, than
those literal and too subtle disputants who have hitherto
discoursed upon it without understanding their own words.
That I may open then an easier way for the ignorant — for
these alone I am trying to serve — T first lay down these
two propositions, concerning spiritual liberty and servi
tude : —

A Christian man is the most free lord of all. and subject
to none; a Christian man is the most dutiful servant of
all, and subject to every one.

Although these statements appear contradictory, yet, when
they are found to agree together, they will make excellently
for my purpose. They are both the statements of Paul
himself, who says, "Though I be free from all men, yet
have I made myself servant unto all" (i Cor. ix. 19), and
"Owe no man anything, but to love one another" (Rom.
xiii. 8). Now love is by its own nature dutiful and obedient
to the beloved object. Thus even Christ, though Lord of
all things, was yet made of a woman; made under the law;
at once free and a servant; at once in the form of God and
in the form of a servant.

Let us examine the subject on a deeper and less simple
principle. Man is composed of a twofold nature, a spiritual
and a bodily. As regards the spiritual nature, which they
name the soul, he is called the spiritual, inward, new man;
as regards the bodily nature, which they name the flesh,
he is called the fleshly, outward, old man. The Apostle
speaks of this: "Though our outward man perish, yet the
inward man is renewed day by day" (2 Cor. iv. 16). The
result of this diversity is that in the Scriptures opposing
statements are made concerning the same man, the fact
being that in the same man these two men are opposed to
one another; the flesh lusting against the spirit, and the
spirit against the flesh (Gal. v. 17).

We first approach the subject of the inward man, that
we may see by what means a man becomes justified, free,
and a true Christian ; that is, a spiritual, new, and inward
man. It is certain that absolutely none among outward
things, under whatever name they may be reckoned, has
any influence in producing Christian righteousness or liberty,

364 LUTHER

nor, on the other hand, unrighteousness or slavery. This
can be shown by an easy argument.

What can it profit the soul that the body should be in
good condition, free, and full of life; that it should eat,
drink, and act according to its pleasure ; when even the most
impious slaves of every kind of vice are prosperous in these
matters ? Again, what harm can ill-health, bondage, hunger,
thirst, or any other outward evil, do to the soul, when even
the most pious of men and the freest in the purity of their
conscience, are harassed by these things? Neither of
these states of things has to do with the liberty or the
slavery of the soul.

And so it will profit nothing that the body should be
adorned with sacred vestments, or dwell in holy places, or
be occupied in sacred offices, or pray, fast, and abstain from
certain meats, or do whatever works can be done through
the body and in the body. Something widely different will
be necessary for the justification and liberty of the soul,
since the things I have spoken of can be done by any
impious person, and only hypocrites are produced by devotion
to these things. On the other hand, it will not at all injure
the soul that the body should be clothed in profane raiment,
should dwell in profane places, should eat and drink in the
ordinary fashion, should not pray aloud, and should leave
undone all the things above mentioned, which may be done
by hypocrites.

And, to cast everything aside, even speculation, medita
tions, and whatever things can be performed by the exer
tions of the soul itself, are of no profit. One thing, and one
alone, is necessary for life, justification, and Christian lib
erty; and that is the most holy word of God, the Gospel of
Christ, as He says, "I am the resurrection and the life;
he that believeth in Me shall not die eternally " (John xi. 25),
and also, "If the Son shall make you free, ye shall be free
indeed" (John viii. 36), and, "Man shall not live by bread
alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth
of God" (Matt. iv. 4).

Let us therefore hold it for certain and firmly established
that the soul can do without everything except the word
of God, without which none at all of its wants are provided

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 365

for. But, having the word, it is rich and wants for nothing,
since that is the word of life, of truth, of light, of peace,
of justification, of salvation, of joy, of liberty, of wisdom,
of virtue, of grace, of glory, and of every good thing. It
is on this account that the prophet in a whole Psalm
(Psalm cxix.), and in many other places, sighs for and calls
upon the word of ,God with so many groanings and words.

Again, there is no more cruel stroke of the wrath of
God than when He sends a famine of hearing His words
(Amos viii. 11), just as there is no greater favour from
Him than the sending forth of His word, as it is said,
" He sent His word and healed them, and delivered them
from their destructions" (Psalm cvii. 20). Christ was
sent for no other office than that of the word; and the
order of Apostles, that of bishops, and that of the whole
body of the clergy, have been called and instituted for no
object but the ministry of the word.

But you will ask, What is this word, and by what means
is it to be used, since there are so many words of God?
I answer, The Apostle Paul (Rom. i.) explains what it is,
namely the Gospel of God, concerning His Son, incarnate,
suffering, risen, and glorified, through the Spirit, the Sanc-
tifier. To preach Christ is to feed the soul, to justify it, to
set it free, and to save it, if it believes the preaching. For
faith alone and the efficacious use of the word of God,
bring salvation. " If thou shalt confess with thy mouth
the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God
hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved" (Rom.
x. 9) ; and again, " Christ is the end of the law for right
eousness to every one that believeth " (Rom. x. 4), and
"The just shall live by faith" (Rom. i. 17). For the word
of God cannot be received and honoured by any works,
but by faith alone. Hence it is clear that as the soul needs
the word alone for life and justification, so it is justified
by faith alone, and not by any works. For if it could be
justified by any other means, it would have no need of the
word, nor consequently of faith.

But this faith cannot consist at all with works; that is, if
you imagine that you can be justified by those works, what
ever they are, along with it. For this would be to halt

366 LUTHER

between two opinions, to worship Baal, and to kiss the
hand to him, which is a very great iniquity, as Job says.
Therefore, when you begin to believe, you learn at the
same time that all that is in you is utterly guilty, sinful, and
damnable, according to that saying, " All have sinned, and
come short of the glory of God" (Rom. iii. 23), and also:
" There is none righteous, no, not one ; they are all gone
out of the way; they are together become unprofitable:
there is none that doeth good, no, not one " (Rom. iii. 10 —
12). When you have learnt this, you will know that Christ
is necessary for you, since He has suffered and risen again
for you, that, believing on Him, you might by this faith
become another man, all your sins being remitted, and you
being justified by the merits of another, namely of Christ
alone.

Since then this faith can reign only in the inward man,
as it is said, " With the heart man believeth unto right
eousness " (Rom. x. 10) ; and since it alone justifies, it is
evident that by no outward work or labour can the inward
man be at all justified, made free, and saved; and that no
works whatever have any relation to him. And so, on the
other hand, it is solely by impiety and incredulity of heart
that he becomes guilty and a slave of sin, deserving con
demnation, not by any outward sin or work. Therefore
the first care of every Christian ought to be to lay aside all
reliance on works, and strengthen his faith alone more and
more, and by it grow in the knowledge, not of works, but of
Christ Jesus, who has suffered and risen again for him,
as Peter teaches (i Peter v.) when he makes no other work
to be a Christian one. Thus Christ, when the Jews asked
Him what they should do that they might work the works
of God, rejected the multitude of works, with which He saw
that they were puffed up, and commanded them one thing
only, saying, "This is the work of God: that ye believe on
Him whom He hath sent, for Him hath God the Father
sealed" (John vi. 27, 29).

Hence a right faith in Christ is an incomparable treasure,
carrying with it universal salvation and preserving from all
evil, as it is said, " He that believeth and is baptised shall
be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned"

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 367

(Mark xvi. 16). Isaiah, looking to this treasure, predicted,
" The consumption decreed shall overflow with righteousness.
For the Lord God of hosts shall make a consumption, even
determined (verbum abbreviation et consummans), in the
midst of the land" (Isa. x. 22, 23). As if he said, "Faith,
which is the brief and complete fulfilling of the law, will
fill those who believe with such righteousness that they
will need nothing else for justification." Thus, too, Paul
says, " For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness "
(Rom. x. 10).

But you ask how it can be the fact that faith alone
justifies, and affords without works so great a treasure of
good things, when so many works, ceremonies, and laws are
prescribed to us in the Scriptures? I answer, Before all
things bear in mind what I have said: that faith alone with
out works justifies, sets free, and saves, as I shall show
more clearly below.

Meanwhile it is to be noted that the whole Scripture of
God is divided into two parts : precepts and promises. The
precepts certainly teach us what is good, but what they teach
is not forthwith done. For they show us what we ought
to do, but do not give us the power to do it. They were
ordained, however, for the purpose of showing man to
himself, that through them he may learn his own impotence
for good and may despair of his own strength. For this
reason they are called the Old Testament, and are so.

For example, " Thou shalt not covet," is a precept by
which we are all convicted of sin, since no man can • help
coveting, whatever efforts to the contrary he may make.
In order therefore that he may fulfil the precept, and not
covet, he is constrained to despair of himself and to seek
elsewhere and through another the help which he cannot
find in himself; as it is said, "O Israel, thou hast destroyed
thyself; but in Me is thine help" (Hosea xiii. 9). Now
what is done by this one precept is done by all; for all
are equally impossible of fulfilment by us.

Now when a man has through the precepts been taught
his own impotence, and become anxious by what means
lie may satisfy the law — for the law must be satisfied, so
that no jot or tittle of it may pass away, otherwise he must

368 LUTHER

be hopelessly condemned — then, being truly humbled and
brought to nothing in his own eyes, he finds in himself no
resource for justification and salvation.

Then comes in that other part of Scripture, the promises
of God, which declare the glory of God, and say, "If you
wish to fulfil the law, and, as the law requires, not to
covet, lo ! believe in Christ, in whom are promised to you
grace, justification, peace, and liberty." All these things you
shall have, if you believe, and shall be without them if
you do not believe. For what is impossible for you by all
the works of the law, which are many and yet useless, you
shall fulfil in an easy and summary way through faith,
because God the Father has made everything to depend on
faith, so that whosoever has it has all things, and he who
has it not has nothing. " For God hath concluded them all
in unbelief, that He might have mercy upon all" (Rom.
xi. 32). Thus the promises of God give that which the
precepts exact, and fulfil what the law commands; so that
all is of God alone, both the precepts and their fulfilment.
He alone commands ; He alone also fulfils. Hence the
promises of God belong to the New Testament; nay, are the
New Testament.

Now, since these promises of God are words of holiness,
truth, righteousness, liberty, and peace, and are full of
universal goodness, the soul, which cleaves to them with a
firm faith, is so united to them, nay, thoroughly absorbed
by them, that it not only partakes in, but is penetrated and
saturated by, all their virtues. For if the touch of Christ
was healing, how much more does that most tender spiritual
touch, nay, absorption of the word, communicate to the soul
all that belongs to the word ! In this way therefore the
soul, through faith alone, without works, is from the word
of God justified, sanctified, endued with truth, peace, and
liberty, and filled full with every good thing, and is truly
made the child of God, as it is said, " To them gave He
power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe
on His name" (John i. 12).

From all this it is easy to understand why faith has such
great power, and why no good works, nor even all good
works put together, can compare with it, since no work

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 369

can cleave to the word of God or be in the soul. Faith alone
and the word reign in it ; and such as is the word, such is
the soul made by it, just as iron exposed to fire glows like
fire, on account of its union with the fire. It is clear then
that to a Christian man his faith suffices for everything,
and that he has no need of works for justification. But if
he has no need of works, neither has he need of the
law; and if he has no need of the law, he is certainly free
from the law, and the saying is true, " The law is not
made for a righteous man" (i Tim. i. 9). This is that
Christian liberty, our faith, the effect of which is, not that
we should be careless or lead a bad life, but that no
one should need the law or works for justification and
salvation.

Let us consider this as the first virtue of faith; and let
us look also to the second. This also is an office of faith:
that it honours with the utmost veneration and the highest
reputation Him in whom it believes, inasmuch as it holds
Him to be truthful and worthy of belief. For there is no
honour like that reputation of truth and righteousness with
which we honour Him in whom we believe. What higher
credit can we attribute to any one than truth and righteous
ness, and absolute goodness? On the other hand, it is
the greatest insult to brand any one with the reputation of
falsehood and unrighteousness, or to suspect him of these,
as we do when we disbelieve him.

Thus the soul, in firmly believing the promises of God,
holds Him to be true and righteous; and it can attribute
to God no higher glory than the credit of being so. The
highest worship of God is to ascribe to Him truth, right
eousness, and whatever qualities we must ascribe to one
in whom we believe. In doing this the soul shows itself
prepared to do His whole will ; in doing this it hallows His
name, and gives itself up to be dealt with as it may please
God. For it cleaves to His promises, and never doubts
that He is true, just, and wise, and will do, dispose, and
provide for all things in the best way. Is not such a soul,
in this its faith, most obedient to God in all things? What
commandment does there remain which has not been amply
fulfilled by such an obedience? \Vhat fulfilment can be

370 LUTHER

more full than universal obedience ? Now this is not accom
plished by works, but by faith alone.

On the other hand, what greater rebellion, impiety, or
insult to God can there be, than not to believe His promises?
What else is this, than either to make God a liar, or to doubt
His truth — that is, to attribute truth to ourselves, but to
God falsehood and levity? In doing this, is not a man
denying God and setting himself up as an idol in his own
heart? What then can works, done in such a state of
impiety, profit us, were they even angelic or apostolic
works? Rightly hath God shut up all, not in wrath nor in
lust, but in unbelief, in order that those who pretend that
they are fulfilling the law by works of purity and benevolence
(which are social and human virtues) may not presume that
they will therefore be saved, but, being included in the sin
of unbelief, may either seek mercy, or be justly condemned.

But when God sees that truth is ascribed to Him, and
that in the faith of our hearts He is honoured with all the
honour of which He is worthy, then in return He honours
us on account of that faith, attributing to us truth and
righteousness. For faith does truth and righteousness in
rendering to God what is His; and therefore in return God
gives glory to our righteousness. It is true and righteous
that God is true and righteous; and to confess this and
ascribe these attributes to Him, this it is to be true and
righteous. Thus He says, " Them that honour Me I will
honour, and they that despise Me shall be lightly esteemed "
(i Sam. ii. 30). And so Paul says that Abraham's faith
was imputed to him for righteousness, because by it he
gave glory to God ; and that to us also, for the same reason,
it shall be imputed for righteousness, if we believe
(Rom. iv.).

The third incomparable grace of faith is this: that it
unites the soul to Christ, as the wife to the husband, by
which mystery, as the Apostle teaches, Christ and the soul
are made one flesh. Now if they are one flesh, and if a
true marriage — nay, by far the most perfect of all marriages
— is accomplished between them (for human marriages are
but feeble types of this one great marriage), then it follows
that all they have becomes theirs in common, as well good

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 37]

things as evil things; so that whatsoever Christ possesses,
that the believing soul may take to itself and boast of as
its own, and whatever belongs to the soul, that Christ claims
as His.

If we compare these possessions, we shall see how in
estimable is the gain. Christ is full of grace, life, and
salvation; the soul is full of sin, death, and condemnation.
Let faith step in, and then sin, death, and hell will belong
to Christ, and grace, life, and salvation to the soul. For,
if He is a Husband, He must needs take to Himself that
which is His wife's, and at the same time, impart to His
wife that which is His. For, in giving her His own body '
and Himself, how can He but give her all that is His? And,
in taking to Himself the body of His wife, how can He
but take to Himself all that is hers?

In this is displayed the delightful sight, not only of
communion, but of a prosperous warfare, of victory, salva
tion, and redemption. For, since Christ is God and man,
and is such a Person as neither has sinned, nor dies, nor
is condemned, nay, cannot sin, die, or be condemned, and
since His righteousness, life, and salvation are invincible,
eternal, and almighty, — when I say, such a Person, by the
wedding-ring of faith, takes a share in the sins, death, and
hell of His wife, nay, makes them His own, and deals with
them no otherwise than as if they were His, and as if He
Himself had sinned; and when He suffers, dies, and descends
to hell, that He may overcome all things, and since sin,
death, and hell cannot swallow Him up, they must needs be
swallowed up by Him in stupendous conflict. For His
righteousness rises above the sins of all men; His life is
more powerful than all death; His salvation is more uncon
querable than all hell.

Thus the believing soul, by the pledge of its faith in
Christ, becomes free from all sin. fearless of death, safe
from hell, and endowed with the eternal righteousness, life,
and salvation of its Husband Christ. Thus He presents
to Himself a glorious bride, without spot or wrinkle, cleans
ing her with the washing of water by the word; that is,
by faith in the word of life, righteousness, and salvation.
Thus He betrothes her unto Himself " in faithfulness, in

372 LUTHER

righteousness, and in judgment, and in lovingkindness, and
in mercies" (Hosea ii. 19, 20).

Who then can value highly enough these royal nuptials?
Who can comprehend the riches of the glory of this grace?
Christ, that rich and pious Husband, takes as a wife a needy
and impious harlot, redeeming her from all her evils and
supplying her with all His good things. It is impossible
now that her sins should destroy her, since they have been
laid upon Christ and swallowed up in Him, and since she
has in her Husband Christ a righteousness which she may
claim as her own, and which she can set up with con
fidence against all her sins, against death and hell, saying,
" If I have sinned, my Christ, in whom I believe, has nol;
sinned ; all mine is His, and all His is mine," as it is written,
"My beloved is mine, and I am His" (Cant. ii. 16). This
is what Paul says : " Thanks be to God, which giveth us
the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ," victory over
sin and death, as he says, " The sting of death is sin, and
the strength of sin is the law" (i Cor. xv. 56, 57).

From all this you will again understand why so much
importance is attributed to faith, so that it alone can fulfil
the law and justify without any works. For you see that
the First Commandment, which says, " Thou shalt worship
one God only." is fulfilled by faith alone. If you were
nothing but good works irom the soles oi your feet to the
crown of your head, you would not be worshipping God,
nor fulfilling the First Commandment, since it is impossible
to worship God without ascribing to Him the glory of
truth and of universal goodness, as it ought in truth to be
ascribed. Now this is not done by works, but only by
faith of heart. Tj^is nnt bx working. Jmi_bjy believing, that
we glorify God, and confess Him to be true. J3n this"
gr/madlJj'im alnrip 1S thpLjighteousnesg" of & Christian man,
and tbe_julfilling of all thecommandments. Forto him f who
fulfils thefirst 'trreTtask of^fulhliing all the rest is easy.

Works, since they are irrational things, cannot glorify
God, although they may be done to the glory of God, if
faith be present. But at present we are inquiring, not into
the quality of the works done, but into him who does them,
who glorifies God, and brings forth good works. This is

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 373

faith of heart, the head and the substance of all our right
eousness. Hence that is a blind and perilous doctrine which
teaches that the commandments arc fulfilled by works. The
commandments must have been fulfilled previous to any good
works, and good works follow their fulfillment, as we shall
see.

But, that we may have a wider view of that grace which
our inner man has in Christ, we must know that in the Old
Testament God sanctified to Himself every first-born male.
The birthright was of great value, giving a superiority
over the rest by the double honour of priesthood and king
ship. For the first-born brother was priest and lord of all
the rest.

Under this figure was foreshown Christ, the true and
only First-born of God the Father and of the Virgin Mary,
and a true King and Priest, not in a fleshly and earthly
sense. For His kingdom is not of this world; it is in
heavenly and spiritual things that He reigns and acts as
Priest; and these are righteousness, truth, wisdom, peace,
salvation, etc. Not but that all things, even those of earth
and hell, are subject to Him — for otherwise how could He
defend and save us from them? — but it is not in these, nor
by these, that His kingdom stands.

So, too, His priesthood does not consist in the outward
display of vestments and gestures, as did the human priest
hood of Aaron and our ecclesiastical priesthood at this day,
but in spiritual things, wherein, in His invisible office, He
intercedes for us with God in heaven, and there offers
Himself, and performs all the duties of a priest, as Paul
describes Him to the Hebrews under the figure of Melchi-
zedek. Nor does He only pray and intercede for us; He also
teaches us inwardly in the spirit with the living teachings
of His Spirit. Xow these are the two special offices of a
priest, as is figured to us in the case of fleshly priests by
visible prayers and sermons.

As Christ by His birthright has obtained these two dig
nities, so He imparts and communicates them to every be
liever in Him. under that law of matrimony of which we
have spoken above, by which all that is the husband's is
also the wife's. Hence all we who believe on Christ are

374 LUTHER

kings and priests in Christ, as it is said, "Ye are a chosen
generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar
people, that ye should show forth the praises of Him who
hath called you out of darkness into His marvellous light "
(i Peter ii. 9).

These two things stand thus. First, as regards kingship,
every Christian is by faith so exalted above all things that,
in spiritual power, he is completely lord of all things, so
that nothing whatever can do him any hurt; yea, all things
are subject to him, and are compelled to be subservient to
his salvation. Thus Paul says, " All things work together
for good to them who are the called" (Rom. viii. 28), and
also, " Whether life, or death, or things present, or things
to come, all are yours ; and ye are Christ's " ( I Cor. iii.
22, 23).

Not that in the sense of corporeal power any one among
Christians has been appointed to possess and rule ail things,
according to the mad and senseless idea of certain
ecclesiastics. That is the office of kings, princes, and men
upon earth. In the experience of life we see that we are
subjected to all things, and suffer many things, even death.
Yea, the more of a Christian any man is, to so many the
more evils, sufferings, and deaths is he subject, as we see
in the first place in Christ the First-born, and in all His
holy brethren.

This is a spiritual power, which rules in the midst of
enemies, and is powerful in the midst of. distresses. And
this is nothing else than that strength is made perfect in
my weakness, and that I can turn all things to the profit
of my salvation; so that even the cross and death are
compelled to serve me and to work together for my salva
tion. This is a lofty and eminent dignity, a true and almighty
dominion, a spiritual empire, in which there is nothing so
good, nothing so bad, as not to work together for my good,
if only I believe. And yet there is nothing of which I
have need — for faith alone suffices for my salvation — unless
that in it faith may exercise the power and empire of its
liberty. This is the inestimable power and liberty of
Christians.

Nor are we only kings and the freest of all men, but

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 375

also priests for ever, a dignity far higher than kingship,
because by that priesthood we are worthy to appear before
God, to pray for others, and to teach one another mutually
the things which are of God. For these are the duties of
priests, and they cannot possibly be permitted to any un
believer. Christ has obtained for us this favour, if we
believe in Him : that just as we are His brethren and co-heirs
and fellow-kings with Him, so we should be also fellow-
priests with Him, and venture with confidence, through the
spirit of faith, to come into the presence of God, and cry,
" Abba, Father ! " and to pray for one another, and to do
all things which we see done and figured in the visible and
corporeal office of priesthood. But to an unbelieving person
nothing renders service or work for good. He himself is in
servitude to all things, and all things turn out for evil to
him, because he uses all things in an impious way for his
own advantage, and not for the glory of God. And thus
he is not a priest, but a profane person, whose prayers are
turned into sin, nor does he ever appear in the presence of
God, because God does not hear sinners.

Who then can comprehend the loftiness of that Christian
dignity which, by its royal power, rules over all things,
even over death, life, and sin, and, by its priestly glory,
is all-powerful with God, since God does what He Himself
seeks and wishes, as it is written, " He will fulfil the desire
of them that fear Him ; He also will hear their cry, and
will save them"? (Psalm cxlv. 19). This glory certainly
cannot be attained by any works, but by faith only.

From these considerations any one may clearly see how
a Christian man is free from all things; so that he needs no
works in order to be justified and saved, but receives these
gifts in abundance from faith alone. Nay, were he so
foolish as to pretend to be justified, set free, saved, and made
a Christian, by means of any good work, he would immedi
ately lose faith, with all its benefits. Such folly is prettily
represented in the fable where a dog, running along in the
water and carrying in his mouth a real piece of meat, is
deceived by the reflection of the meat in the water, and,
in trying with open mouth to seize it, loses the meat and its
image at the same time.

376 LUTHER

Here you will ask, "If all who are in the Church are
priests, by what character are those whom we now call
priests to be distinguished from the laity?" I reply, By
the use of these words, " priest," " clergy," " spiritual per
son," " ecclesiastic," an injustice has been done, since they
have been transferred from the remaining body of Christians
to those few who are now, by hurtful custom, called
ecclesiastics. For Holy Scripture makes no distinction be
tween them, except that those who are now boastfully
called popes, bishops, and lords, it calls ministers, servants,
and stewards, who are to serve the rest in the ministry of
the word, for teaching the faith of Christ and the liberty
of believers. For though it is true that we are all equally
priests, yet we cannot, nor, if we could, ought we all to,
minister and teach publicly. Thus Paul says, " Let a man
so account of us as of the ministers of Christ and stewards
of the mysteries of God" (i Cor. iv. i).

This bad system has now issued in such a pompous display
of power and such a terrible tyranny that no earthly govern
ment can be compared to it, as if the laity were something
else than Christians. Through this perversion of things it
has happened that the knowledge of Christian grace, of
faith, of liberty, and altogether of Christ, has utterly perished,
and has been succeeded by an intolerable bondage to human
works and laws ; and, according to the Lamentations of
Jeremiah, we have become the slaves of the vilest men on
earth, who abuse our misery to all the disgraceful and
ignominious purposes of their own will.

Returning to the subject which we had begun, I think it
is made clear by these considerations that it is not sufficient,
nor a Christian course, to preach the works, life, and words
of Christ in a historic manner, as facts which it suffices
to know as an example how to frame our life, as do those
who are now held the best preachers, and much less so to
keep silence altogether on these things and to teach in their
. stead the laws of men and the decrees of the Fathers. There
* are now not a few persons who preach and read about
Christ with the object of moving the human affections to
sympathise- with Christ, to indignation against the Jews, and
other childish and womanish absurdities of that kind.

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 377

Now preaching ought to have the object of promoting
faith in Him, so that He may not only be Christ, but a
Christ for you and for me, and that what is said of Him,
and what He is called, may work in us. And this faith
is produced and is maintained by preaching why Christ
came, what He has brought us and given to us, and to
what profit and advantage He is to be received. This is
done when the Christian liberty which we have from Christ
Himself is rightly taught, and we are shown in what
manner all we Christians are kings and priests, and how we
are lords of all things, and may be confident that whatever we
do in the presence of God is pleasing and acceptable to Him.

Whose heart would not rejoice in its inmost core at
hearing these things ? Whose heart, on receiving so great
a consolation, would not become sweet with the love of
Christ, a love to which it can never attain by any laws or
works? Who can injure such a heart, or make it afraid?
If the consciousness of sin or the horror of death rush in
upon it, it is prepared to hope in the Lord, and is fearless
of such evils, and undisturbed, until it shall look down upon
its enemies. For it believes that the righteousness of Christ
is its own, and that its sin is no longer its own, but that
of Christ; but, on account of its faith in Christ, all its sin
must needs be swallowed up from before the face of the
righteousness of Christ, as I have said above. It learns, too,
with the Apostle, to scoff at death and sin, and to say, " O
death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through
our Lord Jesus Christ" (i Cor. xv. 55 — 57). For death
is swallowed up in victory, not only the victory of Christ,
but ours also, since by faith it becomes ours, and in it we
too conquer.

Let it suffice to say this concerning the inner man and
its liberty, and concerning that righteousness of faith which
needs neither laws nor good works ; nay, they are even
hurtful to it, if any one pretends to be justified by them.

And now let us turn to the other part: to the outward
man. Here we shall give an answer to all those who,

378 LUTHER

taking offence at the word of faith and at what I have
asserted, say, " If faith does everything, and by itself
suffices for justification, why then are good works com
manded? Are we then to take our ease and do no works,
content with faith ? " Not so, impious men, I reply ; not
so. That would indeed really be the case, if we were
thoroughly and completely inner and spiritual persons; but
that will not happen until the last day, when the dead
shall be raised. As long as we live in the flesh, we are
but beginning and making advances in that which shall be
completed in a future life. On this account the Apostle
calls that which we have in this life the firstfruits of the
Spirit (Rom. viii. 23). In future we shall have the tenths,
and the fullness of the Spirit. To this part belongs the fact
I have stated before: that the Christian is the servant
of all and subject to all. For in that part in which he
is free he does no works, but in that in which he is a
servant he does all works. Let us see on what principle
this is so.

Although, as I have said, inwardly, and according to
the spirit, a man is amply enough justified by faith, having
all that he requires to have, except that this very faith and
abundance ought to increase from day to day, even till the
future life, still he remains in this mortal life upon earth,
in which it is necessary that he should rule his own body
and have intercourse with men. Here then works begin ;
here he must not take his ease ; here he must give heed to
exercise his body by fastings, watchings, labour, and other
regular discipline, so that it may be subdued to the spirit,
and obey and conform itself to the inner man and faith,
and not rebel against them nor hinder them, as is its nature
to do if it is not kept under. For the inner man, being
conformed to God and created after the image of God
through faith, rejoices and delights itself in Christ, in whom
such blessings have been conferred on it, and hence has
only this task before it: to serve God with joy and for
nought in free love.

But in doing this he comes into collision with that
contrary will in his own flesh, which is striving to serve
the world *nd to seek its own gratification. This the

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 379

spirit of faith cannot and will not bear, but applies itself
with cheerfulness and zeal to keep it down and restrain
it, as Paul says, " I delight in the law of God after the
inward man ; but I see another law in my members, warring
against the law of my mind and bringing me into captivity
to the law of sin" (Rom. vii. 22, 23), and again, "I keep
under my body, and bring it unto subjection, lest that by
any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should
be a castaway" (i Cor. ix. 27), and "They that are
Christ's have crucified the flesh, with the affections and
lusts " (Gal. v. 24).

These works, however, must not be done with any notion
that by them a man can be justified before God — for faith,
which alone is righteousness before God, will not bear
with this false notion — but solely with this purpose: that
the body may be brought into subjection, and be purified
from its evil lusts, so that our eyes may be turned only to
purging away those lusts. For when the soul has been
cleansed by faith and made to love God, it would have all
things to be cleansed in like manner, and especially its own
body, so that all things might unite with it in the love and
praise of God. Thus it conies that, from the requirements
of his own body, a man cannot take his ease, but is compelled
on its account to do many good works, that he may bring
it into subjection. Yet these works are not the means of
his justification before God; he does them out of dis
interested love to the service of God; looking to no other
end than to do what is well-pleasing to Him whom he
desires to obey most dutifully in all tilings.

On this principle every man may easily instruct himself
in what measure, and with what distinctions, he ought to
chasten his own body. He will fast, watch, and labour,
just as much as he sees to suffice for keeping down the
wantonness and concupiscence of the body. But those who
pretend to be justified by works are looking, not to the
mortification of their lusts, but only to the works themselves;
thinking that, if they can accomplish as many works and
as great ones as possible, all is well with them, and they
are justified. Sometimes they even injure their brain, and
extinguish nature, or at least make it useless. This is

380 LUTHER

enormous folly, and ignorance of Christian life and faith,
when a man seeks, without faith, to be justified and saved by
works.

To make what we have said more easily understood, let
us set it forth under a figure. The works of a Christian
man, who is justified and saved by his faith out of the pure
and unbought mercy of God, ought to be regarded in the
same light as would have been those of Adam and Eve in
paradise and of all their posterity if they had not sinned.
Of them it is said, " The Lord God took the man and put
him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it"
(Gen. ii. 15). Now Adam had been created by God just
and righteous, so that he could not have needed to be
justified and made righteous by keeping the garden and
working in it ; but, that he might not be unemployed, God
gave him the business of keeping and cultivating paradise.
These would have indeed been works of perfect freedom,
being done for no object but that of pleasing God, and not in
order to obtain justification, which he already had to the
full, and which would have been innate in us all.

So it is with the works of a believer. Being by his faith
replaced afresh in paradise and created anew, he does not
need works for his justification, but that he may not be
idle, but may exercise his own body and preserve it. His
works are to be done freely, with the sole object of pleasing
God. Only we are not yet fully created anew in perfect
faith and love; these require to be increased, not, however,
through works, but through themselves.

A bishop, when he consecrates a church, confirms children,
or performs any other duty of his office, is not consecrated
as bishop by these works; nay, unless he had been previously
consecrated as bishop, not one of those works would have
any validity; they would be foolish, childish, and ridiculous.
Thus a Christian, being consecrated by his faith, does good
works; but he is not by these works made a more sacred
person, or more a Christian. That is the effect of faith
alone ; nay, unless he were previously a believer and a
Christian, none of his works would have any value at all;
they would really be impious and damnable sins.

True, then, are these two sayings : " Good works do not

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 381

make a good man, but a good man does good works "; " Bad
works do not make a bad man, but a bad man does bad
works." Thus it is always necessary that the substance or
person should be good before any good works can be done,
and that good works should follow and proceed from a
good person. As Christ says, " A good tree cannot bring
forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth
good fruit" (Matt. vii. 18). Now it is clear that the
fruit does not bear the tree, nor does the tree grow on
the fruit; but, on the contrary, the trees bear the fruit, and
the fruit grows on the trees.

As then trees must exist before their fruit, and as the
fruit does not make the tree either good or bad, but
on the contrary, a tree of either kind produces fruit of the
same kind, so must first the person of the man be good or
bad before he can do either a good or a bad work; and his
works do not make him bad or good, but he himself makes
his works either bad or good.

We may see the same thing in all handicrafts. A bad
or good house does not make a bad or good builder, but
a good or bad builder makes a good or bad house. And
in general no work makes the workman such as it is itself;
' but the workman makes the work such as he is himself.
Such is the case, too, with the works of men. Such as the
man himself is, whether in faith or in unbelief, such is his
•work: good if it be done in faith; bad if in unbelief. But
the converse is not true that, such as the work is, such the
man becomes in faith or in unbelief. For as works do not
make a believing man, so neither do they make a justified
man; but faith, as it makes a man a believer and justified, so
also it makes his works good.

Since then works justify no man, but a man must be
justified before he can do any good work, it is most evident
that it is faith alone which, by the mere mercy of God
through Christ, and by means of His word, can worthily
and sufficiently justify and save the person; and that a
Christian man needs no work, no law, for his salvation ; for
by faith he is free from all law, and in perfect freedom does
gratuitously all that he does, seeking nothing either of
profit or of salvation— since by the grace of God he is already

382 LUTHER

saved and rich in all things through his faith — but solely
that which is well-pleasing to God.

So, too, no good work can profit an unbeliever to justi
fication and salvation ; and, on the other hand, no evil work
makes him an evil and condemned person, but that unbelief,
which makes the person and the tree bad, makes his works
evil and condemned. Wherefore, when any man is made
good or bad, this does not arise from his works, but from
his faith or unbelief, as the wise man says, " The begin
ning of sin is to fall away from God " ; that is, not to
believe. Paul says, " He that cometh to God must
believe" (Heb. xi. 6); and Christ says the same thing:
" Either make the tree good and his fruit good ; or else
make the tree corrupt, and his fruit corrupt" (Matt. xii.
33), — as much as to say, He who 'wishes to have good
fruit will begin with the tree, and plant a good one; even
so he who wishes to do good works must begin, not by work
ing, but by believing, since it is this which makes the person
good. For nothing makes the person good but faith, nor
bad but unbelief.

It is certainly true that, in the sight of men, a man be
comes good or evil by his works ; but here " becoming "
means that it is thus shown and recognised who is good or
evil, as Christ says, " By their fruits ye shall know them "
(Matt. vii. 20). But all this stops at appearances and
externals; and in this matter very many deceive themselves,
when they presume to write and teach that we are to be
justified by good works, and meanwhile make no mention
even of faith, walking in their own ways, ever deceived and
deceiving, going from bad to worse, blind leaders of the
blind, wearying themselves with many works, and yet never
attaining to true righteousness, of whom Paul says, " Having
a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof, ever
learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the
truth" (2 Tim. iii. 5, 7).

He then who does not wish to go astray, with these blind
ones, must look further than to the works of the law or the
doctrine of works; nay, must turn away his sight from
works, and look to the person, and to the manner in which
it may be justified. Now it is justified and saved, not by

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 383

works or laws, but by the word of God — that is, by the
promise of His grace — so that the glory may be to the
Divine majesty, which has saved us who believe, not by
works of righteousness which we have done, but according
to His mercy, by the word of His grace.

From all this it is easy to perceive on what principle
good works are to be cast aside or embraced, and by what
rule all teachings put forth concerning works are to be
understood. For if works are brought forward as grounds
of justification, and are done under the false persuasion that
we can pretend to be justified by them, they lay on us the
yoke of necessity, and extinguish liberty along with faith,
and by this very addition to their use they become no longer
good, but really worthy of condemnation. For such works
are not free, but blaspheme the grace of God, to which
alone it belongs to justify and save through faith. Works
cannot accomplish this, and yet, with impious presumption,
through our folly, they take it on themselves to do so ;
and thus break in with violence upon the office and glory
of grace.

We do not then reject good works ; nay, we embrace them
and teach them in the highest degree. It is not on their own
account that we condemn them, but on account of this impious
addition to them and the perverse notion of seeking justi
fication by them. These things cause them to be only good
in outward show, but in reality not good, since by them men
are deceived and deceive others, like ravening wolves in
sheep's clothing.

Now this leviathan, this perverted notion about works,
is invincible when sincere faith is wanting. For those
sanctified doers of works cannot but hold it till faith,
which destroys it, comes and reigns in the heart. Nature
cannot expel it by her own power ; nay, cannot even see
it for what it is, but considers it as a most holy will. And
when custom steps in besides, and strengthens this pravity
of nature, as has happened by means of impious teachers,
then the evil is incurable, and leads astray multitudes to
irreparable ruin. Therefore, though it is good to preach
and write about penitence, confession, and satisfaction, yet
if we stop there, and do not go on to teach faith, such teach-

384 LUTHER

ing is without doubt deceitful and devilish. For Christ,
speaking by His servant John, not only said, " Repent ye,"
but added, " for the kingdom of heaven is at hand " (Matt.
iii. 2).

For not one word of God only, but both, should be
preached; new and old things should be brought out of the
treasury, as well the voice of the law as the word of grace.
The voice of the law should be brought forward, that men
may be terrified and brought to a knowledge of their sins,
and thence be converted to penitence and to a better manner
of life. But we must not stop here; that would be to wound
only and not to bind up, to strike and not to heal, to kill and
not to make alive, to bring down to hell and not to bring
back, to humble and not to exalt. Therefore the word of
grace and of the promised remission of sin must also be
preached, in order to teach and set up faith, since without
that word contrition, penitence, and all other duties, are
performed and taught in vain.

There still remain, it is true, preachers of repentance and
grace, but they do not explain the law and the promises of
God to such an end, and in such a spirit, that men may
learn whence repentance and grace are to come. For re
pentance conies from the law of God, but faith or grace
from the promises of God, as it is said, " Faith cometh by
hearing, and hearing by the word of God" (Rom. x. 17),
whence it comes that a man, when humbled and brought to
the knowledge of himself by the threatenings and terrors of
the law, is consoled and raised up by faith in the Divine
promise. Thus " weeping may endure for a night, but joy
cometh in the morning" (Psalm xxx. 5). Thus much we
say concerning works in general, and also concerning those
which the Christian practises with regard to his own body.

Lastly, we will speak also of those works which he per
forms towards his neighbour. For man does not live for
himself alone in this mortal body, in order to work on its
account, but also for all men on earth ; nay, he lives only
for others, and not for himself. For it is to this end that he
brings his own body into subjection, that he may be able to
serve others more sincerely and more freely, as Paul says,
" None of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself.

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 385

For whether we live, we live unto the Lord ; and whether we
die, we die unto the Lord" (Rom. xiv. 7, 8). Thus it is
impossible that he should take his ease in this life, and not
work for the good of his neighbours, since he must needs
speak, act, and converse among men, just as Christ was
made in the likeness of men and found in fashion as a man,
and had His conversation among men.

Yet a Christian has need of none of these things for justi
fication and salvation, but in all his works he ought to enter
tain this view and look only to this object — that he may serve
and be useful to others in all that he does; having nothing
before his eyes but the necessities and the advantage of his
neighbour. Thus the Apostle commands us to work with
our own hands, that we may have to give to those that need.
He might have said, that we may support ourselves ; but he
tells us to give to those that need. It is the part of a Chris
tian to take care of his own body for the very purpose that,
by its soundness and well-being, he may be enabled to labour,
and to acquire and preserve property, for the aid of those
who are in want, that thus the stronger member may serve
the weaker member, and we may be children of God, thought
ful and busy one for another, bearing one another's burdens,
and so fulfilling the law of Christ.

Here is the truly Christian life, here is faith really work
ing by love, when a man applies himself with joy and love
to the works of that freest servitude in which he serves
others voluntarily and for nought, himself abundantly satis
fied in the fulness and riches of his own faith.

Thus, when Paul had taught the Philippians how they had
been made rich by that faith in Christ in which they had
obtained all things, he teaches them further in these words:
" If there be therefore any consolation in Christ, if any
comfort of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any bowels
and mercies, fulfil ye my joy, that ye be like-minded, having
the same love, being of one accord, of one mind. Let noth
ing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of
mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Look not
every man on his own things, but every man also on the
things of others" (Phil. ii. I — 4).

In this we see clearly that the Apostle lays down this rule
HC xxxvi (M)

386 LUTHER

for a Christian life : that all our works should be directed to
the advantage of others, since every Christian has such
abundance through his faith that all his other works and his
whole life remain over and above wherewith to serve and
benefit his neighbour of spontaneous goodwill.

To this end he brings forward Christ as an example, say
ing, " Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ
Jesus, who, being in the form of God, thought it not rob
bery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputa
tion, and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was
made in the likeness of men; and being found in fashion as
a man, He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto
death" (Phil. ii. 5-8). This most wholesome saying of the
Apostle has been darkened to us by men who, totally mis
understanding the expressions " form of God," " form of a
servant," " fashion," " likeness of men," have transferred
them to the natures of Godhead and manhood. Paul's mean
ing is this : Christ, when He was full of the form of God and
abounded in all good things, so that He had no need of works
or sufferings to be just and saved — for all these things He
had from the very beginning — yet was not puffed up with
these things, and did not raise Himself above us and arrogate
to Himself power over us, though He might lawfully have
done so, but, on the contrary, so acted in labouring, working,
suffering, and dying, as to be like the rest of men, and no
otherwise than a man in fashion and in conduct, as if He
were in want of all things and had nothing of the form of
God; and yet all this He did for our sakes, that He might
serve us, and that all the works He should do under that
form of a servant might become ours.

Thus a Christian, like Christ his Head, being full and in
abundance through his faith, ought to be content with this
form of God, obtained by faith ; except that, as I have said,
he ought to increase this faith till it be perfected. For this
faith is his life, justification, and salvation, preserving his
person itself and making it pleasing to God, and bestowing on
him all that Christ has, as I have said above, and as Paul
affirms : " The life which I now live in the flesh I live by the
faith of the Son of God" (Gal. ii. 20). Though he is thus
free from all works, yet he ought to empty himself of this

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 387

liberty, take on him the form of a servant, be made in the
likeness of men, be found in fashion as a man, serve, help,
and in every way act towards his neighbour as he sees that
God through Christ has acted and is acting towards him.
All this he should do freely, and with regard to nothing but
the good pleasure of God, and he should reason thus: —

Lo! my God, without merit on my part, of His pure and
free mercy, has given to me, an unworthy, condemned, and
contemptible creature all the riches of justification and sal
vation in Christ, so that I no longer am in want of anything,
except of faith to believe that this is so. For such a Father,
then, who has overwhelmed me with these inestimable riches
of His, why should I not freely, cheerfully, and with my
whole heart, and from voluntary zeal, do all that I know will
be pleasing to Him and acceptable in His sight? I will there
fore give myself as a sort of Christ, to my neighbour, as
Christ has given Himself to me; and will do nothing in this
life except what I see will be needful, advantageous, and
wholesome for my neighbour, since by faith I abound in all
good things in Christ.

Thus from faith flow forth love and joy in the Lord, and
from love a cheerful, willing, free spirit, disposed to serve
our neighbour voluntarily, without taking any account of
gratitude or ingratitude, praise or blame, gain or loss. Its
object is not to lay men under obligations, nor does it dis
tinguish between friends and enemies, or look to gratitude or
ingratitude, but most freely and willingly spends itself and
its goods, whether it loses them through ingratitude, or gains
goodwill. For thus did its Father, distributing all things to
all men abundantly and freely, making His sun to rise upon
the just and the unjust. Thus, too, the child does and en
dures nothing except from the free joy with which it delights
through Christ in God, the Giver of such great gifts.

You see, then, that, if we recognize those great and
precious gifts, as Peter says, which have been given to us,
love is quickly diffused in our hearts through the Spirit, and
by love we are made free, joyful, all-powerful, active work
ers, victors over all our tribulations, servants to our neigh
bour, and nevertheless lords of all things. But, for those who
do not recognise the good things given to them through Christ,

388 LUTHER

Christ has been born in vain; such persons walk by works,
and will never attain the taste and feeling of these great
things. Therefore just as our neighbour is in want, and
has need of our abundance, so we too in the sight of God
were in want, and had need of His mercy. And as our
heavenly Father has freely helped us in Christ, so ought we
freely to help our neighbour by our body and works, and each
should become to other a sort of Christ, so that we may be
mutually Christs, and that the same Christ may be in all of
us ; that is, that we may be truly Christians.

Who then can comprehend the riches and glory of the
Christian life? It can do all things, has all things, and is in
want of nothing; is lord over sin, death, and hell, and at the
same time is the obedient and useful servant of all. But
alas! it is at this day unknown throughout the world; it is
neither preached nor sought after, so that we are quite
ignorant about our own name, why we are and are called
Christians. We are certainly called so from Christ, who is
not absent, but dwells among us — provided, that is, that we
believe in Him and are reciprocally and mutually one the
Christ of the other, doing to our neighbour as Christ does
to us. But now, in the doctrine of men, we are taught only
to seek after merits, rewards, and things which are already
ours, and we have made of Christ a taskmaster far more
severe than Moses.

The Blessed Virgin beyond all others, affords us an ex
ample of the same faith, in that she was purified according to
the law of Moses, and like all other women, though she was
bound by no such law and had no need of purification. Still
she submitted to the law voluntarily and of free love, making
herself like the rest of women, that she might not offend or
throw contempt on them. She was not justified by doing
this; but, being already justified, she did it freely and gratui
tously. Thus ought our works too to be done, and not in
order to be justified by them; for, being first justified by
faith, we ought to do all our works freely and cheerfully for
the sake of others.

St. Paul circumcised his disciple Timothy, not because he
needed circumcision for his justification, but that he might
not offend or contemn those Jews, weak in the faith, who

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 389

had not yet been able to comprehend the liberty of faith.
On the other hand, when they contemned liberty and urged
that cfrcumcision was necessary for justification, he resisted
them, ai.d would not allow Titus to be circumcised. For, as
he would not offend or contemn any one's weakness in faith,
but yielded for the time to their will, so, again, he would
not have the liberty of faith offended or contemned by hard
ened self-justifiers, but walked in a middle path, sparing the
weak for the time, and always resisting the hardened, that
he might convert all to the liberty of faith. On the same
principle we ought to act, receiving those that are weak in
the faith, but boldly resisting these hardened teachers of
works, of whom we shall hereafter speak at more length.

Christ also, when His disciples were asked for the tribute
money, asked of Peter whether the children of a king were
not free from taxes. Peter agreed to this; yet Jesus com
manded him to go to the sea, saying, '' Lest we should offend
them, go thou to the sea, and cast a hook, and take up the
fish that first cometh up ; and when thou hast opened his
mouth thou shalt find a piece of money; that take, and give
unto them for Me and thee " (Matt. xvii. 27).

This example is very much to our purpose; for here Christ
calls Himself and His disciples free men and children of a
King, in want of nothing; and yet lie voluntarily submits
and pays the tax. Just as far, then, as this work was neces
sary or useful to Christ for justification or salvation, so far
do all His other works or those of His disciples avail for
justification. They are really free and subsequent to justi
fication, and only done to serve others and set them an
example.

Such are the works which Paul inculcated, that Christians
should be subject to principalities and powers and ready to
every good work (Titus iii. i), not that they may be justified
by these things — for they are already justified by faith — but
that in liberty of spirit they may thus be the servants of
others and subject to powers, obeying their will out of
gratuitous love.

Such, too, ought to have been the works of all colleges,
monasteries, and priests; every one doing the works of his
own profession and state of life, not in order to be justified

390 LUTHER

by them, but in order to bring his own body into subjection,
as an example to others, who themselves also need to keep
under their bodies, and also in order to accommodate himself
to the will of others, out of free love. But we must always
guard most carefully against any vain confidence or presump
tion of being justified, gaining merit, or being saved by these
works, this being the part of faith alone, as I have so often
said.

Any man possessing this knowledge may easily keep clear
of danger among those innumerable commands and precepts
of the Pope, of bishops, of monasteries, of churches, of
princes, and of magistrates, which some foolish pastors urge
on us as being necessary for justification and salvation, call
ing them precepts of the Church, when they are not so at
all. For the Christian freeman will speak thus : I will fast,
I will pray, I will do this or that which is commanded me by
men, not as having any need of these things for justification
or salvation, but that I may thus comply with the will of the
Pope, of the bishop, of such a community or such a magis
trate, or of my neighbour as an example to him; for this
cause I will do and suffer all things, just as Christ did and
suffered much more for me, though He needed not at all
to do so on His own account, and made Himself for my
sake under the law, when He was not under the law. And
although tyrants may do me violence or wrong in requiring
obedience to these things, yet it will not hurt me to do them,
so long as they are not done against God.

From all this every man will be able to attain a sure judg
ment and faithful discrimination between all works and laws,
and to know who are blind and foolish pastors, and who are
true and good ones. For whatsoever work is not directed
to the sole end either of keeping under the body, or of doing
service to our neighbour — provided he require nothing con
trary to the will of God — is no good or Christian work.
Hence I greatly fear that at this day few or no colleges,
monasteries, altars, or ecclesiastical functions are Christian
ones ; and the same may be said of fasts and special prayers
to certain saints. I fear that in all these nothing is being
sought but what is already ours; while we fancy that by
these things our sins are purged away and salvation is at-

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY J91

tained, and thus utterly do away with Christian liberty. This
comes from ignorance of Christian faith and liberty.

This ignorance and this crushing of liberty are diligently
promoted by the teaching of very many blind pastors, who stir
up and urge the people to a zeal for these things, praising
them and puffing them up with their indulgences, but never
teaching faith. Now I would advise you, if you have any
wish to pray, to fast, or to make foundations in churches, as
they call it, to take care not to do so with the object of gain
ing any advantage, either temporal or eternal. You will
thus wrong your faith, which alone bestows all things on you,
and the increase of which, either by working or by suffering,
is alone to be cared for. What you give, give freely and
without price, that others may prosper and have increase from
you and your goodness. Thus you will be a truly good man
and a Christian. For what to you are your goods and your
works, which are done over and above for the subjection of
the body, since you have abundance for yourself through
your faith, in which God has given you all things?

We give this rule: the good things which we have from
God ought to flow from one to another and become common
to all, so that every one of us may, as it were, put on his
neighbour, and so behave towards him as if he were himself
in his place. They flowed and do flow from Christ to us;
He put us on, and acted for us as if He Himself were what
we are. From us they flow to those who have need of them;
so that my faith and righteousness ought to be laid down
before God as a covering and intercession for the sins of
my neighbour, which I am to take on myself, and so labour
and endure servitude in them, as if they were my own; for
thus has Christ done for us. This is true love and the genu
ine truth of Christian life. But only there is it true and
genuine where there is true and genuine faith. Hence the
Apostle attributes to charity this quality: that she seeketh
not her own.

We conclude therefore that a Christian man does not live
in himself, but in Christ and in his neighbour, or else is no
Christian: in Christ by faith; in his neighbour by love. By
faith he is carried upwards above himself to God, and by
love he sinks back below himself to his neighbour, still al-

392 LUTHER

ways abiding in God and His love, as Christ says, " Verily
I say unto you, Hereafter ye shall see heaven open, and the
angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of
man " (John i. 51).

Thus much concerning liberty, which, as you see, is a
true and spiritual liberty, making our hearts free from
all sins, laws, and commandments, as Paul says, " The law is
not made for a righteous man " (i Tim. i. 9), and one which
surpasses all other external liberties, as far as heaven is above
earth. May Christ make us to understand and preserve this
liberty. Amen.

Finally, for the sake of those to whom nothing can be
stated so well but that they misunderstand and distort it, we
must add a word, in case they can understand even that.
There are very many persons who, when they hear of this
liberty of faith, straightway turn it into an occasion of
licence. They think that everything is now lawful for them,
and do not choose to show themselves free men and Chris
tians in any other way than by their contempt and reprehen
sion of ceremonies, of traditions, of human laws; as if they
were Christians merely because they refuse to fast on stated
days, or eat flesh when others fast, or omit the customary
prayers; scoffing at the precepts of men, but utterly passing
over all the rest that belongs to the Christian religion. On
the other hand, they are most pertinaciously resisted by those
who strive after salvation solely by their observance of and
reverence for ceremonies, as if they would be saved merely
because they fast on stated days, or abstain from flesh, or
make formal prayers; talking loudly of the precepts of the
Church and of the Fathers, and not caring a straw about
those things which belong to our genuine faith. Both these
parties are plainly culpable, in that, while they neglect matters
which are of weight and necessary for salvation, they contend
noisily about such as are without weight and not necessary.

How much more rightly does the Apostle Paul teach us
to walk in the middle path, condemning either extreme and
saying, " Let not him that eateth despise him that eateth not ;
and let not him which eateth not judge him that eateth "
(Rom. xiv. 3) ! You see here how the Apostle blames those
who, not from religious feeling, but in mere contempt, neg-

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 393

lect and rail at ceremonial observances, and teaches them not
to despise, since this " knowledge puffeth up." Again, he
teaches the pertinacious upholders of these things not to
judge their opponents. For neither party observes towards
the other that charity which edifieth. In this matter we must
listen to Scripture, which teaches us to turn aside neither to
the righlkhand nor to the left, but to follow those right pre
cepts of trie Lord which rejoice the heart. For just as a man
is not righteous merely because he serves and is devoted to
works and ceremonial rites, so neither will he be accounted
righteous merely because he neglects and despises them.

It is not from works that we are set free by the faith of
Christ, but from the belief in works, that is from foolishly
presuming to seek justification through works. Faith re
deems our consciences, makes them upright, and preserves
them, since by it we recognise the truth that justification does
not depend on our works, although good works neither can
nor ought to be absent, just as we cannot exist without food
and drink and all the functions of this mortal body. Still
it is not on them that our justification is based, but on faith;
and yet they ought not on that account to be despised or
neglected. Thus in this world we are compelled by the
needs of this bodily life; but we are not hereby justified.
" My kingdom is not hence, nor of this world," says Christ ;
but He does not say, " My kingdom is not here, nor in this
world." Paul, too, says, " Though we walk in the flesh, we
do not war after the flesh" (2 Cor. x. 3), and "The life
which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of
God" (Gal. ii. 20). Thus our doings, life, and being, in
works and ceremonies, are done from the necessities of this
life, and with the motive of governing our bodies; but yet
we are not justified by these things, but by the faith of the
Son of God.

The Christian must therefore walk in the middle path,
and set these two classes of men before his eyes. He may
meet with hardened and obstinate ceremonialists, who, like
deaf adders, refuse to listen to the truth of liberty, and cry
up, enjoin, and urge on us their ceremonies, as if they could
justify us without faith. Such were the Jews of old, who
would not understand, that they might act well. These men

39* LUTHER

we must resist, do just the contrary to what they do, and be
bold to give them offence, lest by this impious notion of
theirs they should deceive many along with themselves. Be
fore the eyes of these men it is expedient to eat flesh, to
break fasts, and to do in behalf of the liberty of faith things
which they hold to be the greatest sins. We must say of
them, "Let them alone; they be blind leaders of the blind"
(Matt. xv. 14). In this way Paul also would not have
Titus circumcised, though these men urged it; and Christ
defended the Apostles, who had plucked ears of corn on the
Sabbath day ; and many like instances.

Or else we may meet with simple-minded and ignorant
persons, weak in the faith, as the Apostle calls them, who
are as yet unable to apprehend that liberty of faith, even if
willing to do so. These we must spare, lest they should be
offended. We must bear with their infirmity, till they shall
be more fully instructed. For since these men do not act
thus from hardened malice, but only from weakness of faith,
therefore, in order to avoid giving them offence, we must
keep fasts and do other things which they consider necessary.
This is required of us by charity, which injures no one, but
serves all men. It is not the fault of these persons that they
are weak, but that of their pastors, who by the snares and
weapons of their own traditions have brought them into
bondage and wounded their souls when they ought to have
been set free and healed by the teaching of faith and liberty.
Thus the Apostle says, " If meat make my brother to offend,
I will eat no flesh while the world standeth " (i Cor. viii. 13) ;
and again, " I know, and am persuaded by the Lord Jesus,
that there is nothing unclean of itself; but to him that es-
teemeth anything to be unclean, to him it is unclean. It is
evil for that man who eateth with offence" (Rom. xiv. 14,
20).

Thus, though we ought boldly to resist those teachers of
tradition, and though the laws of the pontiffs, by which they
make aggressions on the people of God, deserve sharp re
proof, yet we must spare the timid crowd, who are held cap
tive by the laws of those impious tyrants, till they are set free.
Fight vigorously against the wolves, but on behalf of the
sheep, not against the sheep. And this you may do by in-

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 395

veighing against the laws and lawgivers, and yet at the
same time observing these laws with the weak, lest they be
offended, until they shall themselves recognise the tyranny,
and understand their own liberty. If you wish to use your
liberty, do it secretly, as Paul says, " Hast thou faith ? have
it to thyself before God" (Rom. xiv. 22). But take care
not to use it in the presence of the weak. On the other hand,
in the presence of tyrants and obstinate opposers, use your
liberty in their despite, and with the utmost pertinacity, that
they too may understand that they are tyrants, and their laws
useless for justification, nay that they had no right to estab
lish such laws. e.^ Mrut

Since then we cannot live in this world without ceremonies
and works, since the hot and inexperienced period of youth
has need of being restrained and protected by such bonds,
and since every one is bound to keep under his own body by
attention to these things, therefore the minister of Christ
must be prudent and faithful in so ruling and teaching the
people of Christ, in all these matters, that no root of bitter
ness may spring up among them, and so many be defiled, as
Paul warned the Hebrews ; that is, that they may not lose
the faith, and begin to be defiled by a belief in works as
the means of justification. This is a thing which easily hap
pens, and defiles very many, unless faith be constantly incul
cated along with works. It is impossible to avoid this evil,
when faith is passed over in silence, and only the ordinances
of men are taught, as has been done hitherto by the pestilent,
impious, and soul-destroying traditions of our pontiffs and
opinions of our theologians. An infinite number of souls have
been drawn down to hell by these snares, so that you may
recognise the work of antichrist.

In brief, as poverty is imperilled amid riches, honesty
amid business, humility amid honours, abstinence amid
feasting, purity amid pleasures, so is justification by faith
imperilled anong ceremonies. Solomon says, " Can a man
take fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned ? " (Prov.
vi. 27). And yet as we must live among riches, business,
honours, pleasures, feastings, so must we among ceremonies,
that is among perils. Just as infant boys have the greatest
need of being cherished in the bosoms and by the care of

396 LUTHER

girls, that they may not die, and yet, when they are grown,
there is peril to their salvation in living among girls, so inex
perienced and fervid young men require to be kept in and
restrained by the barriers of ceremonies, even were they of
iron, lest their weak minds should rush headlong into vice.
And yet it would be death to them to persevere in believing
that they can be justified by these things. They must rather
be taught that they have been thus imprisoned, not with the
purpose of their being justified or gaining merit in this way,
but in order that they might avoid wrong-doing, and be
more easily instructed in that righteousness which is by
faith, a thing which the headlong character of youth would
not bear unless it were put under restraint.

Hence in the Christian life ceremonies are to be no other
wise looked upon than as builders and workmen look upon
those preparations for building or working which are not
made with any view of being permanent or anything in
themselves, but only because without them there could be
no building and no work. When the structure is completed,
they are laid aside. Here you see that we do not contemn
these preparations, but set the highest value on them ; a
belief in them we do contemn, because no one thinks that
they constitute a real and permanent structure. If any one
were so manifestly out of his senses as to have no other
object in life but that of setting up these preparations with
all possible expense, diligence, and perseverance, while he
never thought of the structure itself, but pleased himself and
made his boast of these useless preparations and props,
should we not all pity his madness and think that, .at the
cost thus thrown away, some great building might have been
raised?

Thus, too, we do not contemn works and ceremonies — nay,
we set the highest value on them ; but we contemn the belief
in works, which no one should consider to constitute true
righteousness, as do those hypocrites who employ and throw
away their whole life in the pursuit of works, and yet never
attain to that for the sake of which the works are done. As
the Apostle says, they are " ever learning and never able to
come to the knowledge of the truth" (2 Tim. iii. 7). They
appear to wish to build, they make preparations, and yet

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY 397

they never do build; and thus they continue in a show of
godliness, but never attain to its power.

Meanwhile they please themselves with this zealous pur
suit, and even dare to judge all others, whom they do not
see adorned with such a glittering display of works ; while,
if they had been imbued with faith, they might have done
great things for their own and others' salvation, at the
same cost which they now waste in abuse of the gifts of
God. But since human nature and natural reason, as they
call it, are naturally superstitious, and quick to believe that
justification can be attained by any laws or works proposed
to them, and since nature is also exercised and confirmed
in the same view by the practice of all earthly lawgivers,
she can never of her own power free herself from this
bondage to works, and come to a recognition of the liberty
of faith.

We have therefore need to pray that God will lead us and
make us taught of God, that is, ready to learn from God;
and will Himself, as He has promised, write His law in
our hearts ; otherwise there is no hope for us. For unless
He himself teach us inwardly this wisdom hidden in a
mystery, nature cannot but condemn it and judge it to be
heretical. She takes offence at it, and it seems folly to
her, just as we see that it happened of old in the case of
the prophets and Apostles, and just as blind and impious
pontiffs, with their flatterers, do now in my case and that
of those who are like me, upon whom, together with our
selves, may God at length have mercy, and lift up the light
of His countenance upon them, that we may know His way
upon earth and His saving health among all nations, who
is blessed for evermore. Amen. In the year of the Lord
MDXX.

Planned and Designed
at The Collier Press
By William Patten

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Machiavelli, Niccolo
The prince

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