Utopia. Chapter 9. Thomas More. Audiobook.

Utopia. Thomas More. Audiobook. Chapter 9. Of the Religions of the Utopians. There are several sorts of religions, not only in different parts of the island, but even in every town. Some worshipping the sun, others the moon or one of the planets. Some worship such men as have been eminent in former times for virtue or glory, not only as ordinary deities, but as the supreme god. Yet the greater and wiser sort of them worship none of these, but adore one eternal, invisible, infinite, and incomprehensible deity. As a being that is far above all our apprehensions, that is spread over the whole universe, not by his bulk, but by his power and virtue. Him they call the father of all, and acknowledge that the beginnings, the increase, the progress, the vicissitudes, and the end of all things come only from him. Nor do they offer divine honors to any but to him alone. And, indeed, though they differ concerning other things, yet all agree in this. That they think there is one supreme being that made and governs the world. Whom they call, in the language of their country, Mithras. They differ in this. That one thinks the god whom he worships is this supreme being. And another thinks that his idol is that god. But they all agree in one principle. That whoever is this supreme being, he is also that great essence to whose glory and majesty all honors are ascribed by the consent of all nations. By degrees they fall off from the various superstitions that are among them, and grow up to that one religion that is the best and most in request. And there is no doubt to be made, but that all the others had vanished long ago. If some of those who advised them to lay aside their superstitions had not met with some unhappy accidents, which, being considered as inflicted by heaven, made them afraid that the god whose worship had like to have been abandoned had interposed and revenged themselves on those who despised their authority. After they had heard from us an account of the doctrine, the course of life, and the miracles of Christ, and of the wonderful constancy of so many martyrs, whose blood, so willingly offered up by them, was the chief occasion of spreading their religion over a vast number of nations, it is not to be imagined how inclined they were to receive it. I shall not determine whether this proceeded from any secret inspiration of god, or whether it was because it seemed so favorable to that community of goods, which is an opinion so particular as well as so dear to them. Since they perceived that Christ and his followers lived by that rule, and that it was still kept up in some communities among the sincerest sort of Christians. From whichsoever of these motives it might be, true it is, that many of them came over to our religion, and were initiated into it by baptism. But as two of our number were dead, so none of the four that survived were in priest's orders, we, therefore, could only baptize them, so that, to our great regret, they could not partake of the other sacraments, that can only be administered by priests, but they are instructed concerning them and long most vehemently for them. They have had great disputes among themselves, whether one chosen by them to be a priest would not be thereby qualified to do all the things that belong to that character, even though he had no authority derived from the pope, and they seemed to be resolved to choose some for that employment, but they had not done it when I left them. Those among them that have not received our religion do not fright any from it, and use none ill that goes over to it, so that all the while I was there one man was only punished on this occasion. He being newly baptized did, notwithstanding all that we could say to the contrary, dispute publicly concerning the Christian religion, with more zeal than discretion, and with so much heat, that he not only preferred our worship to theirs, but condemned all their rites as profane, and cried out against all that adhered to them as impious and sacrilegious persons, that were to be damned to everlasting burnings. Upon his having frequently preached in this manner he was seized, and after trial he was condemned to banishment, not for having disparaged their religion, but for his inflaming the people to sedition. For this is one of their most ancient laws, that no man ought to be punished for his religion. At the first constitutiona their government, Eutopos having understood that before his coming among them the old inhabitants had been engaged in great quarrels concerning religion, by which they were so divided among themselves, that he found it an easy thing to conquer them, since, instead of uniting their forces against him, every different party in religion fought by themselves. After he had subdued them he made a law that every man might be of what religion he pleased, and might endeavour to draw others to it by the force of argument and by amicable and modest ways, but without bitterness against those of other opinions. But that he ought to use no other force but that of persuasion, and was neither to mix with it reproaches nor violence, and such as did otherwise were to be condemned to banishment or slavery. This law was made by Eutopos, not only for preserving the public peace, which he saw suffered much by daily contentions and irreconcilable heats, but because he thought the interest of religion itself required it. He judged it not fit to determine anything rashly, and seemed to doubt whether those different forms of religion might not all come from God, who might inspire man in a different manner, and be pleased with this variety. He therefore thought it indecent and foolish for any man to threaten and terrify another to make him believe what did not appear to him to be true. And supposing that only one religion was really true and the rest false, he imagined that the native force of truth would at last break forth and shine bright if supported only by the strength of argument and attended to with a gentle and unprejudiced mind, while, on the other hand, if such debates were carried on with violence and tumults as the most wicked are always the most obstinate, so the best and most holy religion might be choked with superstition. As corn is with briars and thorns, he therefore left men wholly to their liberty that they might be free to believe as they should see cause. Only he made a solemn and severe law against such as should so far degenerate from the dignity of human nature as to think that our souls died with our bodies or that the world was governed by chance without a wise overruling providence. For they all formerly believed that there was a state of And they now look on those that think otherwise as scarce fit to be counted men. Since they degrade so noble a being as the soul. And reckon it no better than a beast's. Thus they are far from looking on such men as fit for human society. Or to be citizens of a well-ordered commonwealth. Since a man of such principles must needs. As oft as he dares do it. Despise all their laws and customs. For there is no doubt to be made. That a man who is afraid of nothing but the law. And apprehends nothing after death. Will not scruple to break through all the laws of his country. Either by fraud or force. They never raise any that hold these maxims. Either to honors or offices. Nor employ them in any public trust. But despise them. As men of base and sordid minds. Yet they do not punish them. Because they lay this down as a maxim. That a man cannot make himself believe anything he pleases. Nor do they drive any to dissemble their thoughts by threatenings. So that men are not tempted to lie or disguise their opinions. Which being a sort of fraud. Is abhorred by the utopians. They take care indeed to prevent their disputing in defense of these opinions. Especially before the common people. But they suffer. And even encourage them to dispute concerning them in private with their priest. And other grave men. Being confident that they will be cured of those mad opinions by having reason laid before them. There are many among them that run far to the other extreme. Though it is neither thought an ill nor unreasonable opinion. And therefore is not at all discouraged. They think that the souls of beasts are immortal. Though far inferior to the dignity of the human soul. And not capable of so great a happiness. They are almost all of them very firmly persuaded that good men will be infinitely happy in another state. So that though they are compassionate to all that are sick. Yet they lament no man's death. Except they see him loathe to part with life. For they look on this as a very ill presage. As if the soul. Conscious to itself of guilt. And quite hopeless. Was afraid to leave the body. From some secret hints of approaching misery. They think that such a man's appearance before God cannot be acceptable to him. Who being called on. Does not go out cheerfully. But is backward and unwilling. And as as it were dragged to it. They are struck with horror when they see any die in this manner. And carry them out in silence and with sorrow. And praying God that he would be merciful to the errors of the departed soul. They lay the body in the ground. But when any die cheerfully. And full of hope. They do not mourn for them. But sing hymns when they carry out their bodies. And commending their souls very earnestly to God. Their whole behavior is then rather grave than sad. They burn the body. And set up a pillar where the pile was made. With an inscription to the honor of the deceased. When they come from the funeral. They discourse of his good life. And worthy actions. But speak of nothing oftener and with more pleasure than of his serenity at the hour of death. They think such respect paid to the memory of good men. As both the greatest incitement to engage others to follow their example. And the most acceptable worship that can be offered them. For they believe that though by the imperfection of human sight. They are invisible to us. Yet they are present among us. And hear those discourses that pass concerning themselves. They believe it inconsistent with the happiness of departed souls not to be at liberty to be where they will. And do not imagine them capable of the ingratitude of not desiring to see those friends with whom they lived on earth in the strictest bonds of love and kindness. Besides, they are persuaded that good men, after death, have these affections. And all other good dispositions increased rather than diminished. And therefore conclude that they are still among the living. And observe all they say or do. From hence they engage in all their affairs with the greater confidence of success. As trusting to their protection. While this opinion of the presence of their ancestors is a restraint that prevents their engaging in ill designs. They despise and laugh at auguries. And the other vain and superstitious ways of divination. So much observed among other nations. But have great reverence for such miracles as cannot flow from any of the powers of nature. And look on them as effects and indications of the presence of the supreme being. Of which they say many instances have occurred among them. And that sometimes their public prayers, which upon great and dangerous occasions they have solemnly put up to God, with assured confidence of being heard, have been answered in a miraculous manner. They think the contemplating God in His works, and the adoring Him for them, is a very acceptable piece of worship to Him. There are many among them that upon a motive of religion neglect learning, and apply themselves to no sort of study. Nor do they allow themselves any leisure time, but are perpetually employed. Believing that by the good things that a man does he secures to himself that happiness that comes after death. Some of these visit the sick. Others mend highways, cleanse ditches, repair bridges, or dig turf, gravel, or stone. Others fell and cleave timber, and bring wood, corn, and other necessaries, on carts, into their towns. Nor do these only serve the public, but they serve even private men, more than the slaves themselves do. For if there is anywhere a rough, hard, and sordid piece of work to be done, from which many are frightened by the labor and loathsomeness of it, if not the despair of accomplishing it, they cheerfully, and of their own accord, take that to their share. And by that means, as they ease others very much, so they afflict themselves, and spend their whole life in hard labor. And yet they do not value themselves upon this, nor lessen other people's credit to raise their own. But by their stooping to such servile employments they are so far from being despised, that they are so much the more esteemed by the whole nation. Of these there are two sorts. Some live unmarried and chaste, and abstain from eating any sort of flesh, and thus weaning themselves from all the pleasures of the present life, which they account hurtful, they pursue, even by the hardest and painfulest methods possible, that blessedness which they hope for hereafter. And the nearer they approach to it, they are the more cheerful and earnest in their endeavors after it. Another sort of them is less willing to put themselves to much toil, and therefore prefer a married state to a single one. And as they do not deny themselves the pleasure of it, so they think the begetting of children as a debt which they owe to human nature, and to their country. Nor do they avoid any pleasure that does not hinder labor, and therefore eat flesh so much the more willingly, as they find that by this means they are the more able to work. The utopians look upon these as the wiser sect, but they esteem the others as the most holy. They would indeed laugh at any man who, from the principles of reason, would prefer an unmarried state to a married, or a life of labor to an easy life. But they reverence and admire such as do it from the motives of religion. There is nothing in which they are more cautious than in giving their opinion positively concerning any sort of religion. The men that lead those severe lives are called in the language of their country brotherscas, which answers to those we call religious orders. Their priests are men of eminent piety, and therefore they are but few, for there are only thirteen in every town, one for every temple. But when they go to war, seven of these go out with their forces, and seven others are chosen to supply their room in their absence. But these enter again upon their employments when they return, and those who served in their absence, attend upon the high priest, till vacancies fall by death, for there is one set over the rest. They are chosen by the people as the other magistrates are, by suffrages given in secret, for preventing of factions, and when they are chosen, they are consecrated by the college of priests. The care of all sacred things, the worship of God, and an inspection into the manners of the people, are committed to them. It is a reproach to a man to be sent for by any of them, or for them to speak to him in secret, for that always gives some suspicion. All that is incumbent on them is only to exhort and admonish the people. For the power of correcting and punishing ill men belongs wholly to the prince, and to the other magistrates. The severest thing that the priest does is the excluding those that are desperately wicked from joining in their worship. There is not any sort of punishment more dreaded by them than this, for as it loads them with infamy, so it fills them with secret horrors, such as their reverence to their religion. Nor will their bodies be long exempted from their share of trouble. For if they do not very quickly satisfy the priests of the truth of their repentance, they are seized on by the senate, and punished for their impiety. The education of youth belongs to the priests, yet they do not take so much care of instructing them in letters, as in forming their minds and manners aright. They use all possible methods to infuse, very early, into the tender and flexible minds of children, such opinions as are both good in themselves and will be useful to their country. For when deep impressions of these things are made at that age, they follow men through the whole course of their lives, and induce much to preserve the peace of the government, which suffers by nothing more than by vices that rise out of ill opinions. The wives of their priests are the most extraordinary women of the whole country. Sometimes the women themselves are made priests, though that falls out but seldom, nor are any but ancient widows chosen into that order. None of the magistrates have greater honor paid them than is paid the priests, and if they should happen to commit any crime, they would not be questioned for it. Their punishment is left to God, and to their own consciences. For they do not think it lawful to lay hands on any man, how wicked soever he is, that has been in a peculiar manner dedicated to God. Nor do they find any great inconvenience in this, both because they have so few priests, and because these are chosen with much caution, so that it must be a very unusual thing to find one who, merely out of regard to his virtue, and for his being esteemed a singularly good man, was raised up to so great a dignity, degenerate into corruption and vice. And if such a thing should fall out, for man is a changeable creature, yet, there being few priests, and these having no authority but what rises out of the respect that is paid them, nothing of great consequence to the public can proceed from the indemnity that the priests enjoy. They have, indeed, very few of them, lest greater numbers sharing in the same honor might make the dignity of that order, which they esteem so highly, to sink in its reputation. They also think it difficult to find out many of such an exalted pitch of goodness as to be equal to that dignity, which demands the exercise of more than ordinary virtues. Nor are the priests in greater veneration among them than they are among their neighboring nations, as you may imagine by that which I think gives occasion for it. When the utopians engage in battle, the priests who accompany them to the war, appareled in their sacred vestments, kneel down during the action, in a place not far from the field, and, lifting up their hands to heaven, pray, first for peace, and then for victory to their own side, and particularly that it may be gained without the effusion of much blood on either side. And when the victory turns to their side, they run in among their own men to restrain their fury, and if any of their enemies see them or call to them, they are preserved by that means. And such as can come so near them as to touch their garments have not only their lives but their fortunes secured to them. It is upon this account that all the nations round about consider them so much and treat them with such reverence, that they have been often no less able to preserve their own people from the fury of their enemies than to save their enemies from their rage. For it has sometimes fallen out, that when their armies have been in disorder and forced to fly, so that their enemies were running upon the slaughter and spoil, the priests by interposing have separated them from one another, and stopped the effusion of more blood, so that, by their mediation, a peace has been concluded on very reasonable terms. Nor is there any nation about them so fierce, cruel, or barbarous. The first and the last day of the month, and of the year, is a festival. They measure their months by the course of the moon, and their years by the course of the sun. The first days are called in their language the sinemerns, and the last the trepemerns, which answers in our language, to the festival that begins or ends the season. They have magnificent temples, that are not only nobly built, but extremely spacious, which is the more necessary as they have so few of them. They are a little dark within, which proceeds not from any error in the architecture, but is done with design. For their priests think that too much light dissipates the thoughts, and that a more moderate degree of it both recollects the mind and raises devotion. Though there are many different forms of religion among them, yet all these, how various so ever, agree in the main point, which is the worshipping the divine essence. And, therefore, there is nothing to be seen or heard in their temples in which the several persuasions among them may not agree. For every sect performs those rites that are peculiar to it in their private houses. Nor is there anything in the public worship that contradicts the particular ways of those different sects. There are no images for God in their temples, so that every one may represent him to his thoughts according to the way of his religion. Nor do they call this one God by any other name but that of Mithras, which is the common name by which they all express the divine essence, whatsoever otherwise they think it to be. Nor are there any prayers among them but such as every one of them may use without prejudice to his own opinion. They meet in their temples on the evening of the festival that concludes a season, and not having yet broke their fast, they thank God for their good success during that year or month which is then at an end. And the next day, being that which begins the new season, they meet early in their temples, to pray for the happy progress of all their affairs during that period upon which they then enter. In the festival which concludes the period, before they go to the temple, both wives and children fall on their knees before their husbands or parents and confess everything in which they have either erred or failed in their duty, and beg pardon for it. Thus all little discontents in families are removed, that they may offer up their devotions with a pure and serene mind. For they hold it a great impiety to enter upon them with disturbed thoughts, or with a consciousness of their bearing hatred or anger in their hearts to any person whatsoever. And think that they should become liable to severe punishments if they presume to offer sacrifices without cleansing their hearts, and reconciling all their differences. In the temples the two sexes are separated, the men go to the right hand, and the women to the left. And the males and females all place themselves before the head and master or mistress of the family to which they belong, so that those who have the government of them at home may see their deportment in public. And they intermingle them so, that the younger and the older may be set by one another. For if the younger sort were all set together, they would, perhaps, trifle away that time too much in which they ought to beget in themselves that religious dread of the Supreme Being which is the greatest and almost the only incitement to virtue. They offer up no living creature in sacrifice, nor do they think it suitable to the Divine Being, from whose bounty it is that these creatures have derived their lives, to take pleasure in their deaths, or the offering up their blood. They burn incense and other sweet odors, and have a great number of wax lights during their worship, not out of any imagination that such oblations can add anything to the Divine Nature, which even prayers cannot do, but as it is a harmless and pure way of worshipping God. So they think those sweet savors and lights, together with some other ceremonies, by a secret and unaccountable virtue, elevate men's souls, and inflame them with greater energy and cheerfulness during the Divine worship. All the people appear in the temples in white garments, but the priests' vestments are party-colored, and both the work and colors are wonderful. They are made of no rich materials, for they are neither embroidered nor set with precious stones, but are composed of the plumes of several birds, laid together with so much art. And so neatly, that the true value of them is far beyond the costliest materials. They say, that in the ordering and placing those plumes some dark mysteries are represented, which pass down among their priests in a secret tradition concerning them. And that they are as hieroglyphics, putting them in mind of the blessing that they have received from God, and of their duties, both to Him and to their neighbors. As soon as the priest appears in those ornaments, they all fall prostrate on the ground, with so much reverence and so deep a silence, that such as look on cannot but be struck with it, as if it were the effect of the appearance of a deity. After they have been for some time in this posture, they all stand up, upon a sign given by the priest, and sing hymns to the honor of God, some musical instruments playing all the while. These are quite of another form than those used among us, but, as many of them are much sweeter than ours, so others are made use of by us. Yet in one thing they very much exceed us. All their music, both vocal and instrumental, is adapted to imitate and express the passions, and is so happily suited to every occasion, that, whether the subject of the hymn be cheerful, or formed to soothe or trouble the mind, or to express grief or remorse, the music takes the impression of whatever is represented, affects and kindles the passions, and works the sentiments deep into the hearts of the hearers. When this is done, both priests and people offer up very solemn prayers to God in a set form of words, and these are so composed, that whatsoever is pronounced by the whole assembly may be likewise applied by every man in particular to his own condition. In these they acknowledge God to be the author and governor of the world, and the fountain of all the good they receive, and therefore offer up to Him their thanksgiving. And, in particular, bless Him for His goodness in ordering it so, that they are born under the happiest government in the world, and are of a religion which they hope is the truest of all others. But, if they are mistaken, and if there is either a better government, or a religion more acceptable to God, they implore His goodness to let them know it. Vowing that they resolve to follow Him whithersoever He leads them. But if their government is the best, and their religion the truest, then they pray that He may fortify them in it, and bring all the world both to the same rules of life, and to the same opinions concerning Himself, unless, according to the unsearchableness of His mind, He is pleased with a variety of religions. Then they pray that God may give them an easy passage at last to Himself, not presuming to set limits to Him, how early or late it should be. But, if it may be wished for without derogating from His supreme authority, they desire to be quickly delivered, and to be taken to Himself, though by the most terrible kind of death, rather than to be detained long from seeing Him by the most prosperous course of life. When this prayer is ended, they all fall down again upon the ground. And, after a little while, they rise up, go home to dinner, and spend the rest of the day in diversion or military exercises. Thus have I described to you, as particularly as I could, the constitution of that commonwealth, which I do not only think the best in the world, but indeed the only commonwealth that truly deserves that name. In all other places it is visible that, while people talk of a commonwealth, every man only seeks his own wealth. But there, where no man has any property, all men zealously pursue the good of the public, and, indeed, it is no wonder to see men act so differently. For in other commonwealths every man knows that, unless he provides for himself, how flourishing soever the commonwealth may be, he must die of hunger, so that he sees the necessity of preferring his own concerns to the public. But in Utopia, where every man has a right to everything, they all know that if care is taken to keep the public stores full no private man can want anything. For among them there is no unequal distribution, so that no man is poor, none in necessity, and though no man has anything, yet they are all rich. For what can make a man so rich as to lead a serene and cheerful life, free from anxieties, neither apprehending want himself, nor vexed with the endless complaints of his wife? He is not afraid of the misery of his children, nor is he contriving how to raise a portion for his daughters, but is secure in this, that both he and his wife, his children and grandchildren, to as many generations as he can fancy, will all live both plentifully and happily. Since, among them, there is no less care taken of those who were once engaged in labor, but grow afterwards unable to follow it, than there is, elsewhere, of these that continue still employed. I would gladly hear any man compare the justice that is among them with that of all other nations, among whom, may I perish, if I see anything that looks either like justice or equity. For what justice is there in this? That a nobleman, a goldsmith, a banker, or any other man, that either does nothing at all, or, at best, is employed in things that are of no use to the public, should live in great luxury and splendor upon what is so ill acquired. And a mean man, a carter, a smith, or a ploughman, that works harder even than the beasts themselves, and is employed in labors so necessary, that no commonwealth could hold out a year without them, can only earn so poor a livelihood and must lead so miserable a life, that the condition of the beasts is much better than theirs. For as the beasts do not work so constantly, so they feed almost as well, and with more pleasure, and have no anxiety about what is to come. Whilst these men are depressed by a barren and fruitless employment, and tormented with the apprehensions of want in their old age, since that which they get by their daily labor does but maintain them at present, and is consumed as fast as it comes in, there is no overplus left to lay up for old age. Is not that government both unjust and ungrateful, that is so prodigal of its favors to those that are called gentlemen, or goldsmiths, or such others who are idle, or live either by flattery or by contriving the arts of vain pleasure, and, on the other hand, takes no care of those of a meaner sort, such as ploughmen, colliers, and smiths, without whom it could not subsist? But after the public has reaped all the advantage of their service, and they come to be oppressed with age, sickness, and want, all their labors and the good they have done is forgotten, and all the recompense given them is that they are left to die in great misery. The richer sort are often endeavoring to bring the hire of laborers lower, not only by their fraudulent practices, but by the laws which they procure to be made to that effect, so that though it is a thing most unjust in itself to give such small rewards to those who deserve so well of the public, yet they have given those hardships the name and color of justice, by procuring laws to be made for regulating them. Therefore I must say that, as I hope for mercy, I can have no other notion of all the other governments that I see or know, than that they are a conspiracy of the rich, who, on pretense of managing the public, only pursue their private ends, and devise all the ways and arts they can find out. First, that they may, without danger, preserve all that they have so ill acquired, and then, that they may engage the poor to toil and labor for them at as low rates as possible, and oppress them as much as they please. And if they can but prevail to get these contrivances established by the show of public authority, which is considered as the representative of the whole people, then they are accounted laws. Yet these wicked men, after they have, by a most insatiable covetousness, divided that among themselves with which all the rest might have been well supplied, are far from that happiness that is enjoyed among the utopians. For the use as well as the desire of money being extinguished, much anxiety and great occasions of mischief is cut off with it. And who does not see that the frauds, thefts, robberies, quarrels, tumults, contentions, seditions, murders, treacheries, and witchcrafts, which are, indeed, rather punished than restrained by the seventies of law, would all fall off. Men's fears, solicitudes, cares, labors, and watchings would all perish in the same moment with the value of money. Even poverty itself, for the relief of which money seems most necessary, would fall. But, in order to the apprehending this aright, take one instance. Consider any year, that has been so unfruitful that many thousands have died of hunger. And yet if, at the end of that year, a survey was made of the granaries of all the rich men that have hoarded up the corn, it would be found that there was enough among them to have prevented all that consumption of men that perished in misery. And that, if it had been distributed among them, none would have felt the terrible effects of that scarcity. So easy a thing would it be to supply all the necessities of life, if that blessed thing called money, which is pretended to be invented for procuring them was not really the only thing that obstructed their being procured. I do not doubt but rich men are sensible of this, and that they well know how much a greater happiness it is to want nothing necessary, than to abound in many superfluities, and to be rescued out of so much misery, than to abound with so much wealth. And I cannot think but the sense of every man's interest, added to the authority of Christ's commands, who, as he was infinitely wise, knew what was best, and was not less good in discovering it to us, would have drawn all the world over to the laws of the utopians, if pride, that plague of human nature, that source of so much misery, did not hinder it. For this vice does not measure happiness so much by its own conveniences, as by the miseries of others, and would not be satisfied with being thought a goddess, if none were left that were miserable, over whom she might insult. Pride thinks its own happiness shines the brighter, by comparing it with the misfortunes of other persons, that by displaying its own wealth they may feel their poverty the more sensibly. This is that infernal serpent that creeps into the breasts of mortals, and possesses them too much to be easily drawn out. And, therefore, I am glad that the utopians have fallen upon this form of government, in which I wish that all the world could be so wise as to imitate them. For they have, indeed, laid down such a scheme and foundation of policy, that as men live happily under it, so it is like to be of great continuance. For they having rooted out of the minds of their people all the seeds, both of ambition and faction, there is no danger of any commotions at home. Which alone has been the ruin of many states that seemed otherwise to be well secured. But as long as they live in peace at home, and are governed by such good laws, the envy of all their neighboring princes, who have often, though in vain, attempted their ruin, will never be able to put their state into any commotion or disorder. When Raphael had thus made an end of speaking, though many things occurred to me, both concerning the manners and laws of that people, that seemed very absurd. As well in their way of making war, as in their notions of religion and divine matters, together with several other particulars. But chiefly what seemed the foundation of all the rest. Their living in common, without the use of money, by which all nobility, magnificence, splendor, and majesty, which, according to the common opinion, are the true ornaments of a nation, would be quite taken away. Yet since I perceived that Raphael was weary, and was not sure whether he could easily bear contradiction, remembering that he had taken notice of some, who seemed to think they were bound in honor to support the credit of their own wisdom, by finding out something to censure in all other men's inventions, besides their own, I only commended their constitution, and the account he had given of it in general. And so, taking him by the hand, carried him to supper, and told him I would find out some other time for examining this subject more particularly. And, indeed, I shall be glad to embrace an opportunity of doing it. In the meanwhile, though it must be confessed that he is both a very learned man and a person who has obtained a great knowledge of the world, I cannot perfectly agree to everything he has related. However, there are many things in the Commonwealth of Utopia that I rather wish, than hope, to see followed in our governments. Karaoke Books