<SPAN name="c2"></SPAN>
<h2>DISCOURSES OF RAPHAEL HYTHLODAY, OF THE BEST STATE OF A COMMONWEALTH</h2>
<p>Henry VIII., the unconquered King of England, a prince adorned with
all the virtues that become a great monarch, having some differences
of no small consequence with Charles the most serene Prince of Castile,
sent me into Flanders, as his ambassador, for treating and composing
matters between them. I was colleague and companion to that incomparable
man Cuthbert Tonstal, whom the King, with such universal applause, lately
made Master of the Rolls; but of whom I will say nothing; not because
I fear that the testimony of a friend will be suspected, but rather
because his learning and virtues are too great for me to do them justice,
and so well known, that they need not my commendations, unless I would,
according to the proverb, “Show the sun with a lantern.”
Those that were appointed by the Prince to treat with us, met us at
Bruges, according to agreement; they were all worthy men. The
Margrave of Bruges was their head, and the chief man among them; but
he that was esteemed the wisest, and that spoke for the rest, was George
Temse, the Provost of Casselsee: both art and nature had concurred to
make him eloquent: he was very learned in the law; and, as he had a
great capacity, so, by a long practice in affairs, he was very dexterous
at unravelling them. After we had several times met, without coming
to an agreement, they went to Brussels for some days, to know the Prince’s
pleasure; and, since our business would admit it, I went to Antwerp.
While I was there, among many that visited me, there was one that was
more acceptable to me than any other, Peter Giles, born at Antwerp,
who is a man of great honour, and of a good rank in his town, though
less than he deserves; for I do not know if there be anywhere to be
found a more learned and a better bred young man; for as he is both
a very worthy and a very knowing person, so he is so civil to all men,
so particularly kind to his friends, and so full of candour and affection,
that there is not, perhaps, above one or two anywhere to be found, that
is in all respects so perfect a friend: he is extraordinarily modest,
there is no artifice in him, and yet no man has more of a prudent simplicity.
His conversation was so pleasant and so innocently cheerful, that his
company in a great measure lessened any longings to go back to my country,
and to my wife and children, which an absence of four months had quickened
very much. One day, as I was returning home from mass at St. Mary’s,
which is the chief church, and the most frequented of any in Antwerp,
I saw him, by accident, talking with a stranger, who seemed past the
flower of his age; his face was tanned, he had a long beard, and his
cloak was hanging carelessly about him, so that, by his looks and habit,
I concluded he was a seaman. As soon as Peter saw me, he came
and saluted me, and as I was returning his civility, he took me aside,
and pointing to him with whom he had been discoursing, he said, “Do
you see that man? I was just thinking to bring him to you.”
I answered, “He should have been very welcome on your account.”
“And on his own too,” replied he, “if you knew the
man, for there is none alive that can give so copious an account of
unknown nations and countries as he can do, which I know you very much
desire.” “Then,” said I, “I did not guess
amiss, for at first sight I took him for a seaman.” “But
you are much mistaken,” said he, “for he has not sailed
as a seaman, but as a traveller, or rather a philosopher. This
Raphael, who from his family carries the name of Hythloday, is not ignorant
of the Latin tongue, but is eminently learned in the Greek, having applied
himself more particularly to that than to the former, because he had
given himself much to philosophy, in which he knew that the Romans have
left us nothing that is valuable, except what is to be found in Seneca
and Cicero. He is a Portuguese by birth, and was so desirous of
seeing the world, that he divided his estate among his brothers, ran
the same hazard as Americus Vesputius, and bore a share in three of
his four voyages that are now published; only he did not return with
him in his last, but obtained leave of him, almost by force, that he
might be one of those twenty-four who were left at the farthest place
at which they touched in their last voyage to New Castile. The
leaving him thus did not a little gratify one that was more fond of
travelling than of returning home to be buried in his own country; for
he used often to say, that the way to heaven was the same from all places,
and he that had no grave had the heavens still over him. Yet this
disposition of mind had cost him dear, if God had not been very gracious
to him; for after he, with five Castalians, had travelled over many
countries, at last, by strange good fortune, he got to Ceylon, and from
thence to Calicut, where he, very happily, found some Portuguese ships;
and, beyond all men’s expectations, returned to his native country.”
When Peter had said this to me, I thanked him for his kindness in intending
to give me the acquaintance of a man whose conversation he knew would
be so acceptable; and upon that Raphael and I embraced each other.
After those civilities were past which are usual with strangers upon
their first meeting, we all went to my house, and entering into the
garden, sat down on a green bank and entertained one another in discourse.
He told us that when Vesputius had sailed away, he, and his companions
that stayed behind in New Castile, by degrees insinuated themselves
into the affections of the people of the country, meeting often with
them and treating them gently; and at last they not only lived among
them without danger, but conversed familiarly with them, and got so
far into the heart of a prince, whose name and country I have forgot,
that he both furnished them plentifully with all things necessary, and
also with the conveniences of travelling, both boats when they went
by water, and waggons when they trained over land: he sent with them
a very faithful guide, who was to introduce and recommend them to such
other princes as they had a mind to see: and after many days’
journey, they came to towns, and cities, and to commonwealths, that
were both happily governed and well peopled. Under the equator,
and as far on both sides of it as the sun moves, there lay vast deserts
that were parched with the perpetual heat of the sun; the soil was withered,
all things looked dismally, and all places were either quite uninhabited,
or abounded with wild beasts and serpents, and some few men, that were
neither less wild nor less cruel than the beasts themselves. But,
as they went farther, a new scene opened, all things grew milder, the
air less burning, the soil more verdant, and even the beasts were less
wild: and, at last, there were nations, towns, and cities, that had
not only mutual commerce among themselves and with their neighbours,
but traded, both by sea and land, to very remote countries. There
they found the conveniencies of seeing many countries on all hands,
for no ship went any voyage into which he and his companions were not
very welcome. The first vessels that they saw were flat-bottomed,
their sails were made of reeds and wicker, woven close together, only
some were of leather; but, afterwards, they found ships made with round
keels and canvas sails, and in all respects like our ships, and the
seamen understood both astronomy and navigation. He got wonderfully
into their favour by showing them the use of the needle, of which till
then they were utterly ignorant. They sailed before with great
caution, and only in summer time; but now they count all seasons alike,
trusting wholly to the loadstone, in which they are, perhaps, more secure
than safe; so that there is reason to fear that this discovery, which
was thought would prove so much to their advantage, may, by their imprudence,
become an occasion of much mischief to them. But it were too long
to dwell on all that he told us he had observed in every place, it would
be too great a digression from our present purpose: whatever is necessary
to be told concerning those wise and prudent institutions which he observed
among civilised nations, may perhaps be related by us on a more proper
occasion. We asked him many questions concerning all these things,
to which he answered very willingly; we made no inquiries after monsters,
than which nothing is more common; for everywhere one may hear of ravenous
dogs and wolves, and cruel men-eaters, but it is not so easy to find
states that are well and wisely governed.</p>
<p>As he told us of many things that were amiss in those new-discovered
countries, so he reckoned up not a few things, from which patterns might
be taken for correcting the errors of these nations among whom we live;
of which an account may be given, as I have already promised, at some
other time; for, at present, I intend only to relate those particulars
that he told us, of the manners and laws of the Utopians: but I will
begin with the occasion that led us to speak of that commonwealth.
After Raphael had discoursed with great judgment on the many errors
that were both among us and these nations, had treated of the wise institutions
both here and there, and had spoken as distinctly of the customs and
government of every nation through which he had past, as if he had spent
his whole life in it, Peter, being struck with admiration, said, “I
wonder, Raphael, how it comes that you enter into no king’s service,
for I am sure there are none to whom you would not be very acceptable;
for your learning and knowledge, both of men and things, is such, that
you would not only entertain them very pleasantly, but be of great use
to them, by the examples you could set before them, and the advices
you could give them; and by this means you would both serve your own
interest, and be of great use to all your friends.” “As
for my friends,” answered he, “I need not be much concerned,
having already done for them all that was incumbent on me; for when
I was not only in good health, but fresh and young, I distributed that
among my kindred and friends which other people do not part with till
they are old and sick: when they then unwillingly give that which they
can enjoy no longer themselves. I think my friends ought to rest
contented with this, and not to expect that for their sakes I should
enslave myself to any king whatsoever.” “Soft and
fair!” said Peter; “I do not mean that you should be a slave
to any king, but only that you should assist them and be useful to them.”
“The change of the word,” said he, “does not alter
the matter.” “But term it as you will,” replied
Peter, “I do not see any other way in which you can be so useful,
both in private to your friends and to the public, and by which you
can make your own condition happier.” “Happier?”
answered Raphael, “is that to be compassed in a way so abhorrent
to my genius? Now I live as I will, to which I believe, few courtiers
can pretend; and there are so many that court the favour of great men,
that there will be no great loss if they are not troubled either with
me or with others of my temper.” Upon this, said I, “I
perceive, Raphael, that you neither desire wealth nor greatness; and,
indeed, I value and admire such a man much more than I do any of the
great men in the world. Yet I think you would do what would well
become so generous and philosophical a soul as yours is, if you would
apply your time and thoughts to public affairs, even though you may
happen to find it a little uneasy to yourself; and this you can never
do with so much advantage as by being taken into the council of some
great prince and putting him on noble and worthy actions, which I know
you would do if you were in such a post; for the springs both of good
and evil flow from the prince over a whole nation, as from a lasting
fountain. So much learning as you have, even without practice
in affairs, or so great a practice as you have had, without any other
learning, would render you a very fit counsellor to any king whatsoever.”
“You are doubly mistaken,” said he, “Mr. More, both
in your opinion of me and in the judgment you make of things: for as
I have not that capacity that you fancy I have, so if I had it, the
public would not be one jot the better when I had sacrificed my quiet
to it. For most princes apply themselves more to affairs of war
than to the useful arts of peace; and in these I neither have any knowledge,
nor do I much desire it; they are generally more set on acquiring new
kingdoms, right or wrong, than on governing well those they possess:
and, among the ministers of princes, there are none that are not so
wise as to need no assistance, or at least, that do not think themselves
so wise that they imagine they need none; and if they court any, it
is only those for whom the prince has much personal favour, whom by
their fawning and flatteries they endeavour to fix to their own interests;
and, indeed, nature has so made us, that we all love to be flattered
and to please ourselves with our own notions: the old crow loves his
young, and the ape her cubs. Now if in such a court, made up of
persons who envy all others and only admire themselves, a person should
but propose anything that he had either read in history or observed
in his travels, the rest would think that the reputation of their wisdom
would sink, and that their interests would be much depressed if they
could not run it down: and, if all other things failed, then they would
fly to this, that such or such things pleased our ancestors, and it
were well for us if we could but match them. They would set up
their rest on such an answer, as a sufficient confutation of all that
could be said, as if it were a great misfortune that any should be found
wiser than his ancestors. But though they willingly let go all
the good things that were among those of former ages, yet, if better
things are proposed, they cover themselves obstinately with this excuse
of reverence to past times. I have met with these proud, morose,
and absurd judgments of things in many places, particularly once in
England.” “Were you ever there?” said I.
“Yes, I was,” answered he, “and stayed some months
there, not long after the rebellion in the West was suppressed, with
a great slaughter of the poor people that were engaged in it.</p>
<p>“I was then much obliged to that reverend prelate, John Morton,
Archbishop of Canterbury, Cardinal, and Chancellor of England; a man,”
said he, “Peter (for Mr. More knows well what he was), that was
not less venerable for his wisdom and virtues than for the high character
he bore: he was of a middle stature, not broken with age; his looks
begot reverence rather than fear; his conversation was easy, but serious
and grave; he sometimes took pleasure to try the force of those that
came as suitors to him upon business by speaking sharply, though decently,
to them, and by that he discovered their spirit and presence of mind;
with which he was much delighted when it did not grow up to impudence,
as bearing a great resemblance to his own temper, and he looked on such
persons as the fittest men for affairs. He spoke both gracefully
and weightily; he was eminently skilled in the law, had a vast understanding,
and a prodigious memory; and those excellent talents with which nature
had furnished him were improved by study and experience. When
I was in England the King depended much on his counsels, and the Government
seemed to be chiefly supported by him; for from his youth he had been
all along practised in affairs; and, having passed through many traverses
of fortune, he had, with great cost, acquired a vast stock of wisdom,
which is not soon lost when it is purchased so dear. One day,
when I was dining with him, there happened to be at table one of the
English lawyers, who took occasion to run out in a high commendation
of the severe execution of justice upon thieves, ‘who,’
as he said, ‘were then hanged so fast that there were sometimes
twenty on one gibbet!’ and, upon that, he said, ‘he could
not wonder enough how it came to pass that, since so few escaped, there
were yet so many thieves left, who were still robbing in all places.’
Upon this, I (who took the boldness to speak freely before the Cardinal)
said, ‘There was no reason to wonder at the matter, since this
way of punishing thieves was neither just in itself nor good for the
public; for, as the severity was too great, so the remedy was not effectual;
simple theft not being so great a crime that it ought to cost a man
his life; no punishment, how severe soever, being able to restrain those
from robbing who can find out no other way of livelihood. In this,’
said I, ‘not only you in England, but a great part of the world,
imitate some ill masters, that are readier to chastise their scholars
than to teach them. There are dreadful punishments enacted against
thieves, but it were much better to make such good provisions by which
every man might be put in a method how to live, and so be preserved
from the fatal necessity of stealing and of dying for it.’
‘There has been care enough taken for that,’ said he; ‘there
are many handicrafts, and there is husbandry, by which they may make
a shift to live, unless they have a greater mind to follow ill courses.’
‘That will not serve your turn,’ said I, ‘for many
lose their limbs in civil or foreign wars, as lately in the Cornish
rebellion, and some time ago in your wars with France, who, being thus
mutilated in the service of their king and country, can no more follow
their old trades, and are too old to learn new ones; but since wars
are only accidental things, and have intervals, let us consider those
things that fall out every day. There is a great number of noblemen
among you that are themselves as idle as drones, that subsist on other
men’s labour, on the labour of their tenants, whom, to raise their
revenues, they pare to the quick. This, indeed, is the only instance
of their frugality, for in all other things they are prodigal, even
to the beggaring of themselves; but, besides this, they carry about
with them a great number of idle fellows, who never learned any art
by which they may gain their living; and these, as soon as either their
lord dies, or they themselves fall sick, are turned out of doors; for
your lords are readier to feed idle people than to take care of the
sick; and often the heir is not able to keep together so great a family
as his predecessor did. Now, when the stomachs of those that are
thus turned out of doors grow keen, they rob no less keenly; and what
else can they do? For when, by wandering about, they have worn
out both their health and their clothes, and are tattered, and look
ghastly, men of quality will not entertain them, and poor men dare not
do it, knowing that one who has been bred up in idleness and pleasure,
and who was used to walk about with his sword and buckler, despising
all the neighbourhood with an insolent scorn as far below him, is not
fit for the spade and mattock; nor will he serve a poor man for so small
a hire and in so low a diet as he can afford to give him.’
To this he answered, ‘This sort of men ought to be particularly
cherished, for in them consists the force of the armies for which we
have occasion; since their birth inspires them with a nobler sense of
honour than is to be found among tradesmen or ploughmen.’
‘You may as well say,’ replied I, ‘that you must cherish
thieves on the account of wars, for you will never want the one as long
as you have the other; and as robbers prove sometimes gallant soldiers,
so soldiers often prove brave robbers, so near an alliance there is
between those two sorts of life. But this bad custom, so common
among you, of keeping many servants, is not peculiar to this nation.
In France there is yet a more pestiferous sort of people, for the whole
country is full of soldiers, still kept up in time of peace (if such
a state of a nation can be called a peace); and these are kept in pay
upon the same account that you plead for those idle retainers about
noblemen: this being a maxim of those pretended statesmen, that it is
necessary for the public safety to have a good body of veteran soldiers
ever in readiness. They think raw men are not to be depended on,
and they sometimes seek occasions for making war, that they may train
up their soldiers in the art of cutting throats, or, as Sallust observed,
“for keeping their hands in use, that they may not grow dull by
too long an intermission.” But France has learned to its
cost how dangerous it is to feed such beasts. The fate of the
Romans, Carthaginians, and Syrians, and many other nations and cities,
which were both overturned and quite ruined by those standing armies,
should make others wiser; and the folly of this maxim of the French
appears plainly even from this, that their trained soldiers often find
your raw men prove too hard for them, of which I will not say much,
lest you may think I flatter the English. Every day’s experience
shows that the mechanics in the towns or the clowns in the country are
not afraid of fighting with those idle gentlemen, if they are not disabled
by some misfortune in their body or dispirited by extreme want; so that
you need not fear that those well-shaped and strong men (for it is only
such that noblemen love to keep about them till they spoil them), who
now grow feeble with ease and are softened with their effeminate manner
of life, would be less fit for action if they were well bred and well
employed. And it seems very unreasonable that, for the prospect
of a war, which you need never have but when you please, you should
maintain so many idle men, as will always disturb you in time of peace,
which is ever to be more considered than war. But I do not think
that this necessity of stealing arises only from hence; there is another
cause of it, more peculiar to England.’ ‘What is that?’
said the Cardinal: ‘The increase of pasture,’ said I, ‘by
which your sheep, which are naturally mild, and easily kept in order,
may be said now to devour men and unpeople, not only villages, but towns;
for wherever it is found that the sheep of any soil yield a softer and
richer wool than ordinary, there the nobility and gentry, and even those
holy men, the dobots! not contented with the old rents which their farms
yielded, nor thinking it enough that they, living at their ease, do
no good to the public, resolve to do it hurt instead of good.
They stop the course of agriculture, destroying houses and towns, reserving
only the churches, and enclose grounds that they may lodge their sheep
in them. As if forests and parks had swallowed up too little of
the land, those worthy countrymen turn the best inhabited places into
solitudes; for when an insatiable wretch, who is a plague to his country,
resolves to enclose many thousand acres of ground, the owners, as well
as tenants, are turned out of their possessions by trick or by main
force, or, being wearied out by ill usage, they are forced to sell them;
by which means those miserable people, both men and women, married and
unmarried, old and young, with their poor but numerous families (since
country business requires many hands), are all forced to change their
seats, not knowing whither to go; and they must sell, almost for nothing,
their household stuff, which could not bring them much money, even though
they might stay for a buyer. When that little money is at an end
(for it will be soon spent), what is left for them to do but either
to steal, and so to be hanged (God knows how justly!), or to go about
and beg? and if they do this they are put in prison as idle vagabonds,
while they would willingly work but can find none that will hire them;
for there is no more occasion for country labour, to which they have
been bred, when there is no arable ground left. One shepherd can
look after a flock, which will stock an extent of ground that would
require many hands if it were to be ploughed and reaped. This,
likewise, in many places raises the price of corn. The price of
wool is also so risen that the poor people, who were wont to make cloth,
are no more able to buy it; and this, likewise, makes many of them idle:
for since the increase of pasture God has punished the avarice of the
owners by a rot among the sheep, which has destroyed vast numbers of
them—to us it might have seemed more just had it fell on the owners
themselves. But, suppose the sheep should increase ever so much,
their price is not likely to fall; since, though they cannot be called
a monopoly, because they are not engrossed by one person, yet they are
in so few hands, and these are so rich, that, as they are not pressed
to sell them sooner than they have a mind to it, so they never do it
till they have raised the price as high as possible. And on the
same account it is that the other kinds of cattle are so dear, because
many villages being pulled down, and all country labour being much neglected,
there are none who make it their business to breed them. The rich
do not breed cattle as they do sheep, but buy them lean and at low prices;
and, after they have fattened them on their grounds, sell them again
at high rates. And I do not think that all the inconveniences
this will produce are yet observed; for, as they sell the cattle dear,
so, if they are consumed faster than the breeding countries from which
they are brought can afford them, then the stock must decrease, and
this must needs end in great scarcity; and by these means, this your
island, which seemed as to this particular the happiest in the world,
will suffer much by the cursed avarice of a few persons: besides this,
the rising of corn makes all people lessen their families as much as
they can; and what can those who are dismissed by them do but either
beg or rob? And to this last a man of a great mind is much sooner
drawn than to the former. Luxury likewise breaks in apace upon
you to set forward your poverty and misery; there is an excessive vanity
in apparel, and great cost in diet, and that not only in noblemen’s
families, but even among tradesmen, among the farmers themselves, and
among all ranks of persons. You have also many infamous houses,
and, besides those that are known, the taverns and ale-houses are no
better; add to these dice, cards, tables, football, tennis, and quoits,
in which money runs fast away; and those that are initiated into them
must, in the conclusion, betake themselves to robbing for a supply.
Banish these plagues, and give orders that those who have dispeopled
so much soil may either rebuild the villages they have pulled down or
let out their grounds to such as will do it; restrain those engrossings
of the rich, that are as bad almost as monopolies; leave fewer occasions
to idleness; let agriculture be set up again, and the manufacture of
the wool be regulated, that so there may be work found for those companies
of idle people whom want forces to be thieves, or who now, being idle
vagabonds or useless servants, will certainly grow thieves at last.
If you do not find a remedy to these evils it is a vain thing to boast
of your severity in punishing theft, which, though it may have the appearance
of justice, yet in itself is neither just nor convenient; for if you
suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted
from their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their
first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded from this
but that you first make thieves and then punish them?’</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.