The chief and almost the only business of the magistrates is to see that no one lives in idleness. This does not mean that the Utopians wear themselves out with “perpetual toil from morning to night, as if they were beasts of burden,” for they appoint eight hours for sleep and six for work, and the rest of the day is left to each man’s discretion. They are able to cut down the length of time needed for work, without our so-called labor saving machinery, by using the services of classes which in More’s time were given for the most part to idleness—princes, rich men, healthy beggars, and the like. The only exception to this rule of labor is with the magistrates—who are not in the habit of taking advantage of it—and the students, who upon proving their ability are released from mechanical operations. If there is too great a surplus of labor, men are sent out to repair the highways; but when no public undertaking is to be performed, the hours of work are lessened.
VI
So much for the daily industrial life of the Utopians. How are the goods distributed?
Between the city and the country there is a monthly exchange of goods. This occasion is made a festival, and the country people come into town and take back for themselves the goods which the townspeople have made; and the magistrates “take care to see it given to them.” In back of this direct interchange of goods between town and country, between household and household, there are doubtless regulations; and it is simply our misfortune that Raphael Hythloday did not think it necessary to go into them. Within the cities, we must add, there are storehouses where a daily market takes place.
As with the business of production, the family is the unit of distribution; and the city is composed of these units, rather than of a multitude of isolated individuals. “Every city is divided into four equal parts, and in the middle of each there is a marketplace; what is brought hither, and manufactured by the several families, is carried from thence to houses appointed for that purpose, in which all things of a sort are laid by themselves; and thither every father goes and takes whatever he or his family stand in need of, without either paying for it or leaving anything in exchange. There is no reason for giving denial to any person, since there is such plenty of everything among them; and there is no danger of a man’s asking for more than he needs; they have no inducements to do this, since they are sure they shall always be supplied.”
More goes on to explain this direct system of exchange, and to justify it. “It is the fear of want that makes any of the whole race of animals either greedy or ravenous, but besides fear, there is in man a pride that makes him fancy it a particular glory to excel others in pomp and excess. But by the laws of the Utopians there is no room for this. Near these markets are others for all sorts of provisions, where there are not only herbs, fruits, and bread, but also fish, fowl, and cattle. There are also, without their towns, places appointed near some running water for killing their beasts, and for washing away their filth.”
In addition to the monthly apportionment of goods by the local magistrates, the great council which meets at Amaurot once a year undertakes to examine the production of each region, and those regions that suffer from a scarcity of goods are supplied out of the surplus of other regions, “so that indeed the whole island is, as it were, one family.”
Taking it all together, there is pretty much the same standard of well-being that we found in The Republic. More recognizes the instinct for self-assertion and the exhibitionist element in man’s makeup; but he does not pander to it. The precious metals are held in contempt: gold is used to make chamberpots and chains for slaves; pearls are given to children who glory in them and enjoy them while they are young and are as much ashamed to use them afterwards as they are of their puppets and other toys. Gaudy clothes and jewelry are likewise out of fashion in Utopia. The shopkeepers of Bond Street and Fifth Avenue would break their hearts here; for it is impossible to spend money or to spend other people’s labor on articles which lend themselves solely to conspicuous display, and are otherwise neither useful nor beautiful. Contrast More’s Utopia with St. John’s vision of heaven, and the worldly Utopia seems quite naked and austere. A hundred years later, in Penn’s city of Philadelphia, we might have fancied that we were walking about the streets of Amaurot.
VII
The town life of the Utopians, as I have explained, rests upon rural foundations; there is such a mixture of town and country as Peter Kropotkin sought to realize in his sketch of Fields, Factories, and Workshops. Let us conjure up the town of Amaurot and see in what sort of environment the townspeople spend their days. Our Utopian city, alas! reminds us somewhat of its
