--
On
the
Duty
of
Civil
Disobedience
--
by
Henry
David
Thoreau
--
[1849,
original
title:
Resistance
to
Civil
Government]
--
I
heartily
accept
the
motto,
“That
government
is
best
which
governs
least”;
and
I
should
like
to
see
it
acted
up
to
more
rapidly
and
systematically.
Carried
out,
it
finally
amounts
to
this,
which
also
I
believe
--”That
government
is
best
which
governs
not
at
all”;
and
when
men
are
prepared
for
it,
that
will
be
the
kind
of
government
which
they
will
have.
Government
is
at
best
but
an
expedient;
but
most
governments
are
usually,
and
all
governments
are
sometimes,
inexpedient.
The
objections
which
have
been
brought
against
a
standing
army,
and
they
are
many
and
weighty,
and
deserve
to
prevail,
may
also
at
last
be
brought
against
a
standing
government.
The
standing
army
is
only
an
arm
of
the
standing
government.
The
government
itself,
which
is
only
the
mode
which
the
people
have
chosen
to
execute
their
will,
is
equally
liable
to
be
abused
and
perverted
before
the
people
can
act
through
it.
Witness
the
present
Mexican
war,
the
work
of
comparatively
a
few
individuals
using
the
standing
government
as
their
tool;
for
in
the
outset,
the
people
would
not
have
consented
to
this
measure.
--
This
American
government
--what
is
it
but
a
tradition,
though
a
recent
one,
endeavoring
to
transmit
itself
unimpaired
to
posterity,
but
each
instant
losing
some
of
its
integrity?
It
has
not
the
vitality
and
force
of
a
single
living
man;
for
a
single
man
can
bend
it
to
his
will.
It
is
a
sort
of
wooden
gun
to
the
people
themselves.
But
it
is
not
the
less
necessary
for
this;
for
the
people
must
have
some
complicated
machinery
or
other,
and
hear
its
din,
to
satisfy
that
idea
of
government
which
they
have.
Governments
show
thus
how
successfully
men
can
be
imposed
upon,
even
impose
on
themselves,
for
their
own
advantage.
It
is
excellent,
we
must
all
allow.
Yet
this
government
never
of
itself
furthered
any
enterprise,
but
by
the
alacrity
with
which
it
got
out
of
its
way.
_It_
does
not
keep
the
country
free.
_It_
does
not
settle
the
West.
_It_
does
not
educate.
The
character
inherent
in
the
American
people
has
done
all
that
has
been
accomplished;
and
it
would
have
done
somewhat
more,
if
the
government
had
not
sometimes
got
in
its
way.
For
government
is
an
expedient,
by
which
men
would
fain
succeed
in
letting
one
another
alone;
and,
as
has
been
said,
when
it
is
most
expedient,
the
governed
are
most
let
alone
by
it.
Trade
and
commerce,
if
they
were
not
made
of
india-rubber,
would
never
manage
to
bounce
over
obstacles
which
legislators
are
continually
putting
in
their
way;
and
if
one
were
to
judge
these
men
wholly
by
the
effects
of
their
actions
and
not
partly
by
their
intentions,
they
would
deserve
to
be
classed
and
punished
with
those
mischievious
persons
who
put
obstructions
on
the
railroads.
--
But,
to
speak
practically
and
as
a
citizen,
unlike
those
who
call
themselves
no-government
men,
I
ask
for,
not
_at
once_
no
government,
but
at
once
a
better
government.
Let
every
man
make
known
what
kind
of
government
would
command
his
respect,
and
that
will
be
one
step
toward
obtaining
it.
--
After
all,
the
practical
reason
why,
when
the
power
is
once
in
the
hands
of
the
people,
a
majority
are
permitted,
and
for
a
long
period
continue,
to
rule
is
not
because
they
are
most
likely
to
be
in
the
right,
nor
because
this
seems
fairest
to
the
minority,
but
because
they
are
physically
the
strongest.
But
a
government
in
which
the
majority
rule
in
all
cases
can
not
be
based
on
justice,
even
as
far
as
men
understand
it.
Can
there
not
be
a
government
in
which
the
majorities
do
not
virtually
decide
right
and
wrong,
but
conscience?
--in
which
majorities
decide
only
those
questions
to
which
the
rule
of
expediency
is
applicable?
Must
the
citizen
ever
for
a
moment,
or
in
the
least
degree,
resign
his
conscience
to
the
legislator?
Why
has
every
man
a
conscience
then?
I
think
that
we
should
be
men
first,
and
subjects
afterward.
It
is
not
desirable
to
cultivate
a
respect
for
the
law,
so
much
as
for
the
right.
The
only
obligation
which
I
have
a
right
to
assume
is
to
do
at
any
time
what
I
think
right.
It
is
truly
enough
said
that
a
corporation
has
no
conscience;
but
a
corporation
of
conscientious
men
is
a
corporation
_with_
a
conscience.
Law
never
made
men
a
whit
more
just;
and,
by
means
of
their
respect
for
it,
even
the
well-disposed
are
daily
made
the
agents
on
injustice.
A
common
and
natural
result
of
an
undue
respect
for
the
law
is,
that
you
may
see
a
file
of
soldiers,
colonel,
captain,
corporal,
privates,
powder-monkeys,
and
all,
marching
in
admirable
order
over
hill
and
dale
to
the
wars,
against
their
wills,
ay,
against
their
common
sense
and
consciences,
which
makes
it
very
steep
marching
indeed,
and
produces
a
palpitation
of
the
heart.
They
have
no
doubt
that
it
is
a
damnable
business
in
which
they
are
concerned;
they
are
all
peaceably
inclined.
Now,
what
are
they?
Men
at
all?
or
small
movable
forts
and
magazines,
at
the
service
of
some
unscrupulous
man
in
power?
Visit
the
Navy
Yard,
and
behold
a
marine,
such
a
man
as
an
American
government
can
make,
or
such
as
it
can
make
a
man
with
its
black
arts
--a
mere
shadow
and
reminiscence
of
humanity,
a
man
laid
out
alive
and
standing,
and
already,
as
one
may
say,
buried
under
arms
with
funeral
accompaniment,
though
it
may
be,
--
“Not
a
drum
was
heard,
not
a
funeral
note,
As
his
corpse
to
the
rampart
we
hurried;
Not
a
soldier
discharged
his
farewell
shot
O’er
the
grave
where
our
hero
we
buried.”
--
The
mass
of
men
serve
the
state
thus,
not
as
men
mainly,
but
as
machines,
with
their
bodies.
They
are
the
standing
army,
and
the
militia,
jailers,
constables,
posse
comitatus,
etc.
In
most
cases
there
is
no
free
exercise
whatever
of
the
judgement
or
of
the
moral
sense;
but
they
put
themselves
on
a
level
with
wood
and
earth
and
stones;
and
wooden
men
can
perhaps
be
manufactured
that
will
serve
the
purpose
as
well.
Such
command
no
more
respect
than
men
of
straw
or
a
lump
of
dirt.
They
have
the
same
sort
of
worth
only
as
horses
and
dogs.
Yet
such
as
these
even
are
commonly
esteemed
good
citizens.
Others
--as
most
legislators,
politicians,
lawyers,
ministers,
and
office-holders
--serve
the
state
chiefly
with
their
heads;
and,
as
they
rarely
make
any
moral
distinctions,
they
are
as
likely
to
serve
the
devil,
without
_intending_
it,
as
God.
A
very
few
--as
heroes,
patriots,
martyrs,
reformers
in
the
great
sense,
and
_men_
--serve
the
state
with
their
consciences
also,
and
so
necessarily
resist
it
for
the
most
part;
and
they
are
commonly
treated
as
enemies
by
it.
A
wise
man
will
only
be
useful
as
a
man,
and
will
not
submit
to
be
“clay,”
and
“stop
a
hole
to
keep
the
wind
away,”
but
leave
that
office
to
his
dust
at
least:
--
“I
am
too
high
born
to
be
propertied,
To
be
a
second
at
control,
Or
useful
serving-man
and
instrument
to
any
sovereign
state
throughout
the
world.”
--
He
who
gives
himself
entirely
to
his
fellow
men
appears
to
them
useless
and
selfish;
but
he
who
gives
himself
partially
to
them
is
pronounced
a
benefactor
and
philanthropist.
--
How
does
it
become
a
man
to
behave
toward
the
American
government
today?
I
answer,
that
he
cannot
without
disgrace
be
associated
with
it.
I
cannot
for
an
instant
recognize
that
political
organization
as
_my_
government
which
is
the
_slave’s_
government
also.
--
All
men
recognize
the
right
of
revolution;
that
is,
the
right
to
refuse
allegiance
to,
and
to
resist,
the
government,
when
its
tyranny
or
its
inefficiency
are
great
and
unendurable.
But
almost
all
say
that
such
is
not
the
case
now.
But
such
was
the
case,
they
think,
in
the
Revolution
of
‘75.
If
one
were
to
tell
me
that
this
was
a
bad
government
because
it
taxed
certain
foreign
commodities
brought
to
its
ports,
it
is
most
probable
that
I
should
not
make
an
ado
about
it,
for
I
can
do
without
them.
All
machines
have
their
friction;
and
possibly
this
does
enough
good
to
counter-balance
the
evil.
At
any
rate,
it
is
a
great
evil
to
make
a
stir
about
it.
But
when
the
friction
comes
to
have
its
machine,
and
oppression
and
robbery
are
organized,
I
say,
let
us
not
have
such
a
machine
any
longer.
In
other
words,
when
a
sixth
of
the
population
of
a
nation
which
has
undertaken
to
be
the
refuge
of
liberty
are
slaves,
and
a
whole
country
is
unjustly
overrun
and
conquered
by
a
foreign
army,
and
subjected
to
military
law,
I
think
that
it
is
not
too
soon
for
honest
men
to
rebel
and
revolutionize.
What
makes
this
duty
the
more
urgent
is
that
fact
that
the
country
so
overrun
is
not
our
own,
but
ours
is
the
invading
army.
--
Paley,
a
common
authority
with
many
on
moral
questions,
in
his
chapter
on
the
“Duty
of
Submission
to
Civil
Government,”
resolves
all
civil
obligation
into
expediency;
and
he
proceeds
to
say
that
“so
long
as
the
interest
of
the
whole
society
requires
it,
that
is,
so
long
as
the
established
government
cannot
be
resisted
or
changed
without
public
inconvenience,
it
is
the
will
of
God
...that
the
established
government
be
obeyed
--and
no
longer.
This
principle
being
admitted,
the
justice
of
every
particular
case
of
resistance
is
reduced
to
a
computation
of
the
quantity
of
the
danger
and
grievance
on
the
one
side,
and
of
the
probability
and
expense
of
redressing
it
on
the
other.”
Of
this,
he
says,
every
man
shall
judge
for
himself.
But
Paley
appears
never
to
have
contemplated
those
cases
to
which
the
rule
of
expediency
does
not
apply,
in
which
a
people,
as
well
as
an
individual,
must
do
justice,
cost
what
it
may.
If
I
have
unjustly
wrested
a
plank
from
a
drowning
man,
I
must
restore
it
to
him
though
I
drown
myself.
This,
according
to
Paley,
would
be
inconvenient.
But
he
that
would
save
his
life,
in
such
a
case,
shall
lose
it.
This
people
must
cease
to
hold
slaves,
and
to
make
war
on
Mexico,
though
it
cost
them
their
existence
as
a
people.
--
In
their
practice,
nations
agree
with
Paley;
but
does
anyone
think
that
Massachusetts
does
exactly
what
is
right
at
the
present
crisis?
--
“A
drab
of
stat,
a
cloth-o’-silver
slut,
To
have
her
train
borne
up,
and
her
soul
trail
in
the
dirt.”
--
Practically
speaking,
the
opponents
to
a
reform
in
Massachusetts
are
not
a
hundred
thousand
politicians
at
the
South,
but
a
hundred
thousand
merchants
and
farmers
here,
who
are
more
interested
in
commerce
and
agriculture
than
they
are
in
humanity,
and
are
not
prepared
to
do
justice
to
the
slave
and
to
Mexico,
_cost
what
it
may_.
I
quarrel
not
with
far-off
foes,
but
with
those
who,
near
at
home,
co-operate
with,
and
do
the
bidding
of,
those
far
away,
and
without
whom
the
latter
would
be
harmless.
We
are
accustomed
to
say,
that
the
mass
of
men
are
unprepared;
but
improvement
is
slow,
because
the
few
are
not
as
materially
wiser
or
better
than
the
many.
It
is
not
so
important
that
many
should
be
good
as
you,
as
that
there
be
some
absolute
goodness
somewhere;
for
that
will
leaven
the
whole
lump.
There
are
thousands
who
are
_in
opinion_
opposed
to
slavery
and
to
the
war,
who
yet
in
effect
do
nothing
to
put
an
end
to
them;
who,
esteeming
themselves
children
of
Washington
and
Franklin,
sit
down
with
their
hands
in
their
pockets,
and
say
that
they
know
not
what
to
do,
and
do
nothing;
who
even
postpone
the
question
of
freedom
to
the
question
of
free
trade,
and
quietly
read
the
prices-current
along
with
the
latest
advices
from
Mexico,
after
dinner,
and,
it
may
be,
fall
asleep
over
them
both.
What
is
the
price-current
of
an
honest
man
and
patriot
today?
They
hesitate,
and
they
regret,
and
sometimes
they
petition;
but
they
do
nothing
in
earnest
and
with
effect.
They
will
wait,
well
disposed,
for
others
to
remedy
the
evil,
that
they
may
no
longer
have
it
to
regret.
At
most,
they
give
up
only
a
cheap
vote,
and
a
feeble
countenance
and
Godspeed,
to
the
right,
as
it
goes
by
them.
There
are
nine
hundred
and
ninety-nine
patrons
of
virtue
to
one
virtuous
man.
But
it
is
easier
to
deal
with
the
real
possessor
of
a
thing
than
with
the
temporary
guardian
of
it.
--
All
voting
is
a
sort
of
gaming,
like
checkers
or
backgammon,
with
a
slight
moral
tinge
to
it,
a
playing
with
right
and
wrong,
with
moral
questions;
and
betting
naturally
accompanies
it.
The
character
of
the
voters
is
not
staked.
I
cast
my
vote,
perchance,
as
I
think
right;
but
I
am
not
vitally
concerned
that
that
right
should
prevail.
I
am
willing
to
leave
it
to
the
majority.
Its
obligation,
therefore,
never
exceeds
that
of
expediency.
Even
_voting
for
the
right_
is
_doing_
nothing
for
it.
It
is
only
expressing
to
men
feebly
your
desire
that
it
should
prevail.
A
wise
man
will
not
leave
the
right
to
the
mercy
of
chance,
nor
wish
it
to
prevail
through
the
power
of
the
majority.
There
is
but
little
virtue
in
the
action
of
masses
of
men.
When
the
majority
shall
at
length
vote
for
the
abolition
of
slavery,
it
will
be
because
they
are
indifferent
to
slavery,
or
because
there
is
but
little
slavery
left
to
be
abolished
by
their
vote.
_They_
will
then
be
the
only
slaves.
Only
_his_
vote
can
hasten
the
abolition
of
slavery
who
asserts
his
own
freedom
by
his
vote.
--
I
hear
of
a
convention
to
be
held
at
Baltimore,
or
elsewhere,
for
the
selection
of
a
candidate
for
the
Presidency,
made
up
chiefly
of
editors,
and
men
who
are
politicians
by
profession;
but
I
think,
what
is
it
to
any
independent,
intelligent,
and
respectable
man
what
decision
they
may
come
to?
Shall
we
not
have
the
advantage
of
this
wisdom
and
honesty,
nevertheless?
Can
we
not
count
upon
some
independent
votes?
Are
there
not
many
individuals
in
the
country
who
do
not
attend
conventions?
But
no:
I
find
that
the
respectable
man,
so
called,
has
immediately
drifted
from
his
position,
and
despairs
of
his
country,
when
his
country
has
more
reasons
to
despair
of
him.
He
forthwith
adopts
one
of
the
candidates
thus
selected
as
the
only
_available_
one,
thus
proving
that
he
is
himself
_available_
for
any
purposes
of
the
demagogue.
His
vote
is
of
no
more
worth
than
that
of
any
unprincipled
foreigner
or
hireling
native,
who
may
have
been
bought.
O
for
a
man
who
is
a
man,
and,
as
my
neighbor
says,
has
a
bone
in
his
back
which
you
cannot
pass
your
hand
through!
Our
statistics
are
at
fault:
the
population
has
been
returned
too
large.
How
many
_men_
are
there
to
a
square
thousand
miles
in
the
country?
Hardly
one.
Does
not
America
offer
any
inducement
for
men
to
settle
here?
The
American
has
dwindled
into
an
Odd
Fellow
--one
who
may
be
known
by
the
development
of
his
organ
of
gregariousness,
and
a
manifest
lack
of
intellect
and
cheerful
self-reliance;
whose
first
and
chief
concern,
on
coming
into
the
world,
is
to
see
that
the
almshouses
are
in
good
repair;
and,
before
yet
he
has
lawfully
donned
the
virile
garb,
to
collect
a
fund
to
the
support
of
the
widows
and
orphans
that
may
be;
who,
in
short,
ventures
to
live
only
by
the
aid
of
the
Mutual
Insurance
company,
which
has
promised
to
bury
him
decently.
--
It
is
not
a
man’s
duty,
as
a
matter
of
course,
to
devote
himself
to
the
eradication
of
any,
even
to
most
enormous
wrong;
he
may
still
properly
have
other
concerns
to
engage
him;
but
it
is
his
duty,
at
least,
to
wash
his
hands
of
it,
and,
if
he
gives
it
no
thought
longer,
not
to
give
it
practically
his
support.
If
I
devote
myself
to
other
pursuits
and
contemplations,
I
must
first
see,
at
least,
that
I
do
not
pursue
them
sitting
upon
another
man’s
shoulders.
I
must
get
off
him
first,
that
he
may
pursue
his
contemplations
too.
See
what
gross
inconsistency
is
tolerated.
I
have
heard
some
of
my
townsmen
say,
“I
should
like
to
have
them
order
me
out
to
help
put
down
an
insurrection
of
the
slaves,
or
to
march
to
Mexico
--see
if
I
would
go”;
and
yet
these
very
men
have
each,
directly
by
their
allegiance,
and
so
indirectly,
at
least,
by
their
money,
furnished
a
substitute.
The
soldier
is
applauded
who
refuses
to
serve
in
an
unjust
war
by
those
who
do
not
refuse
to
sustain
the
unjust
government
which
makes
the
war;
is
applauded
by
those
whose
own
act
and
authority
he
disregards
and
sets
at
naught;
as
if
the
state
were
penitent
to
that
degree
that
it
hired
one
to
scourge
it
while
it
sinned,
but
not
to
that
degree
that
it
left
off
sinning
for
a
moment.
Thus,
under
the
name
of
Order
and
Civil
Government,
we
are
all
made
at
last
to
pay
homage
to
and
support
our
own
meanness.
After
the
first
blush
of
sin
comes
its
indifference;
and
from
immoral
it
becomes,
as
it
were,
unmoral,
and
not
quite
unnecessary
to
that
life
which
we
have
made.
--
The
broadest
and
most
prevalent
error
requires
the
most
disinterested
virtue
to
sustain
it.
The
slight
reproach
to
which
the
virtue
of
patriotism
is
commonly
liable,
the
noble
are
most
likely
to
incur.
Those
who,
while
they
disapprove
of
the
character
and
measures
of
a
government,
yield
to
it
their
allegiance
and
support
are
undoubtedly
its
most
conscientious
supporters,
and
so
frequently
the
most
serious
obstacles
to
reform.
Some
are
petitioning
the
State
to
dissolve
the
Union,
to
disregard
the
requisitions
of
the
President.
Why
do
they
not
dissolve
it
themselves
--the
union
between
themselves
and
the
State
--and
refuse
to
pay
their
quota
into
its
treasury?
Do
not
they
stand
in
the
same
relation
to
the
State
that
the
State
does
to
the
Union?
And
have
not
the
same
reasons
prevented
the
State
from
resisting
the
Union
which
have
prevented
them
from
resisting
the
State?
--
How
can
a
man
be
satisfied
to
entertain
an
opinion
merely,
and
enjoy
_it_?
Is
there
any
enjoyment
in
it,
if
his
opinion
is
that
he
is
aggrieved?
If
you
are
cheated
out
of
a
single
dollar
by
your
neighbor,
you
do
not
rest
satisfied
with
knowing
you
are
cheated,
or
with
saying
that
you
are
cheated,
or
even
with
petitioning
him
to
pay
you
your
due;
but
you
take
effectual
steps
at
once
to
obtain
the
full
amount,
and
see
to
it
that
you
are
never
cheated
again.
Action
from
principle,
the
perception
and
the
performance
of
right,
changes
things
and
relations;
it
is
essentially
revolutionary,
and
does
not
consist
wholly
with
anything
which
was.
It
not
only
divided
States
and
churches,
it
divides
families;
ay,
it
divides
the
_individual_,
separating
the
diabolical
in
him
from
the
divine.
--
Unjust
laws
exist:
shall
we
be
content
to
obey
them,
or
shall
we
endeavor
to
amend
them,
and
obey
them
until
we
have
succeeded,
or
shall
we
transgress
them
at
once?
Men,
generally,
under
such
a
government
as
this,
think
that
they
ought
to
wait
until
they
have
persuaded
the
majority
to
alter
them.
They
think
that,
if
they
should
resist,
the
remedy
would
be
worse
than
the
evil.
But
it
is
the
fault
of
the
government
itself
that
the
remedy
is
worse
than
the
evil.
_It_
makes
it
worse.
Why
is
it
not
more
apt
to
anticipate
and
provide
for
reform?
Why
does
it
not
cherish
its
wise
minority?
Why
does
it
cry
and
resist
before
it
is
hurt?
Why
does
it
not
encourage
its
citizens
to
put
out
its
faults,
and
_do_
better
than
it
would
have
them?
Why
does
it
always
crucify
Christ
and
excommunicate
Copernicus
and
Luther,
and
pronounce
Washington
and
Franklin
rebels?
--
One
would
think,
that
a
deliberate
and
practical
denial
of
its
authority
was
the
only
offense
never
contemplated
by
its
government;
else,
why
has
it
not
assigned
its
definite,
its
suitable
and
proportionate,
penalty?
If
a
man
who
has
no
property
refuses
but
once
to
earn
nine
shillings
for
the
State,
he
is
put
in
prison
for
a
period
unlimited
by
any
law
that
I
know,
and
determined
only
by
the
discretion
of
those
who
put
him
there;
but
if
he
should
steal
ninety
times
nine
shillings
from
the
State,
he
is
soon
permitted
to
go
at
large
again.
--
If
the
injustice
is
part
of
the
necessary
friction
of
the
machine
of
government,
let
it
go,
let
it
go:
perchance
it
will
wear
smooth
--certainly
the
machine
will
wear
out.
If
the
injustice
has
a
spring,
or
a
pulley,
or
a
rope,
or
a
crank,
exclusively
for
itself,
then
perhaps
you
may
consider
whether
the
remedy
will
not
be
worse
than
the
evil;
but
if
it
is
of
such
a
nature
that
it
requires
you
to
be
the
agent
of
injustice
to
another,
then
I
say,
break
the
law.
Let
your
life
be
a
counter-friction
to
stop
the
machine.
What
I
have
to
do
is
to
see,
at
any
rate,
that
I
do
not
lend
myself
to
the
wrong
which
I
condemn.
--
As
for
adopting
the
ways
which
the
State
has
provided
for
remedying
the
evil,
I
know
not
of
such
ways.
They
take
too
much
time,
and
a
man’s
life
will
be
gone.
I
have
other
affairs
to
attend
to.
I
came
into
this
world,
not
chiefly
to
make
this
a
good
place
to
live
in,
but
to
live
in
it,
be
it
good
or
bad.
A
man
has
not
everything
to
do,
but
something;
and
because
he
cannot
do
_everything_,
it
is
not
necessary
that
he
should
be
doing
_something_
wrong.
It
is
not
my
business
to
be
petitioning
the
Governor
or
the
Legislature
any
more
than
it
is
theirs
to
petition
me;
and
if
they
should
not
hear
my
petition,
what
should
I
do
then?
But
in
this
case
the
State
has
provided
no
way:
its
very
Constitution
is
the
evil.
This
may
seem
to
be
harsh
and
stubborn
and
unconcilliatory;
but
it
is
to
treat
with
the
utmost
kindness
and
consideration
the
only
spirit
that
can
appreciate
or
deserves
it.
So
is
all
change
for
the
better,
like
birth
and
death,
which
convulse
the
body.
--
I
do
not
hesitate
to
say,
that
those
who
call
themselves
Abolitionists
should
at
once
effectually
withdraw
their
support,
both
in
person
and
property,
from
the
government
of
Massachusetts,
and
not
wait
till
they
constitute
a
majority
of
one,
before
they
suffer
the
right
to
prevail
through
them.
I
think
that
it
is
enough
if
they
have
God
on
their
side,
without
waiting
for
that
other
one.
Moreover,
any
man
more
right
than
his
neighbors
constitutes
a
majority
of
one
already.
--
I
meet
this
American
government,
or
its
representative,
the
State
government,
directly,
and
face
to
face,
once
a
year
--no
more
--in
the
person
of
its
tax-gatherer;
this
is
the
only
mode
in
which
a
man
situated
as
I
am
necessarily
meets
it;
and
it
then
says
distinctly,
Recognize
me;
and
the
simplest,
the
most
effectual,
and,
in
the
present
posture
of
affairs,
the
indispensablest
mode
of
treating
with
it
on
this
head,
of
expressing
your
little
satisfaction
with
and
love
for
it,
is
to
deny
it
then.
My
civil
neighbor,
the
tax-gatherer,
is
the
very
man
I
have
to
deal
with
--for
it
is,
after
all,
with
men
and
not
with
parchment
that
I
quarrel
--and
he
has
voluntarily
chosen
to
be
an
agent
of
the
government.
How
shall
he
ever
know
well
that
he
is
and
does
as
an
officer
of
the
government,
or
as
a
man,
until
he
is
obliged
to
consider
whether
he
will
treat
me,
his
neighbor,
for
whom
he
has
respect,
as
a
neighbor
and
well-disposed
man,
or
as
a
maniac
and
disturber
of
the
peace,
and
see
if
he
can
get
over
this
obstruction
to
his
neighborliness
without
a
ruder
and
more
impetuous
thought
or
speech
corresponding
with
his
action.
I
know
this
well,
that
if
one
thousand,
if
one
hundred,
if
ten
men
whom
I
could
name
--if
ten
_honest_
men
only
--ay,
if
_one_
HONEST
man,
in
this
State
of
Massachusetts,
_ceasing
to
hold
slaves_,
were
actually
to
withdraw
from
this
co-partnership,
and
be
locked
up
in
the
county
jail
therefor,
it
would
be
the
abolition
of
slavery
in
America.
For
it
matters
not
how
small
the
beginning
may
seem
to
be:
what
is
once
well
done
is
done
forever.
But
we
love
better
to
talk
about
it:
that
we
say
is
our
mission.
Reform
keeps
many
scores
of
newspapers
in
its
service,
but
not
one
man.
If
my
esteemed
neighbor,
the
State’s
ambassador,
who
will
devote
his
days
to
the
settlement
of
the
question
of
human
rights
in
the
Council
Chamber,
instead
of
being
threatened
with
the
prisons
of
Carolina,
were
to
sit
down
the
prisoner
of
Massachusetts,
that
State
which
is
so
anxious
to
foist
the
sin
of
slavery
upon
her
sister
--though
at
present
she
can
discover
only
an
act
of
inhospitality
to
be
the
ground
of
a
quarrel
with
her
--the
Legislature
would
not
wholly
waive
the
subject
of
the
following
winter.
--
Under
a
government
which
imprisons
unjustly,
the
true
place
for
a
just
man
is
also
a
prison.
The
proper
place
today,
the
only
place
which
Massachusetts
has
provided
for
her
freer
and
less
despondent
spirits,
is
in
her
prisons,
to
be
put
out
and
locked
out
of
the
State
by
her
own
act,
as
they
have
already
put
themselves
out
by
their
principles.
It
is
there
that
the
fugitive
slave,
and
the
Mexican
prisoner
on
parole,
and
the
Indian
come
to
plead
the
wrongs
of
his
race
should
find
them;
on
that
separate
but
more
free
and
honorable
ground,
where
the
State
places
those
who
are
not
_with_
her,
but
_against_
her
--the
only
house
in
a
slave
State
in
which
a
free
man
can
abide
with
honor.
If
any
think
that
their
influence
would
be
lost
there,
and
their
voices
no
longer
afflict
the
ear
of
the
State,
that
they
would
not
be
as
an
enemy
within
its
walls,
they
do
not
know
by
how
much
truth
is
stronger
than
error,
nor
how
much
more
eloquently
and
effectively
he
can
combat
injustice
who
has
experienced
a
little
in
his
own
person.
Cast
your
whole
vote,
not
a
strip
of
paper
merely,
but
your
whole
influence.
A
minority
is
powerless
while
it
conforms
to
the
majority;
it
is
not
even
a
minority
then;
but
it
is
irresistible
when
it
clogs
by
its
whole
weight.
If
the
alternative
is
to
keep
all
just
men
in
prison,
or
give
up
war
and
slavery,
the
State
will
not
hesitate
which
to
choose.
If
a
thousand
men
were
not
to
pay
their
tax
bills
this
year,
that
would
not
be
a
violent
and
bloody
measure,
as
it
would
be
to
pay
them,
and
enable
the
State
to
commit
violence
and
shed
innocent
blood.
This
is,
in
fact,
the
definition
of
a
peaceable
revolution,
if
any
such
is
possible.
If
the
tax-gatherer,
or
any
other
public
officer,
asks
me,
as
one
has
done,
“But
what
shall
I
do?”
my
answer
is,
“If
you
really
wish
to
do
anything,
resign
your
office.”
When
the
subject
has
refused
allegiance,
and
the
officer
has
resigned
from
office,
then
the
revolution
is
accomplished.
But
even
suppose
blood
should
flow.
Is
there
not
a
sort
of
blood
shed
when
the
conscience
is
wounded?
Through
this
wound
a
man’s
real
manhood
and
immortality
flow
out,
and
he
bleeds
to
an
everlasting
death.
I
see
this
blood
flowing
now.
--
I
have
contemplated
the
imprisonment
of
the
offender,
rather
than
the
seizure
of
his
goods
--though
both
will
serve
the
same
purpose
--because
they
who
assert
the
purest
right,
and
consequently
are
most
dangerous
to
a
corrupt
State,
commonly
have
not
spent
much
time
in
accumulating
property.
To
such
the
State
renders
comparatively
small
service,
and
a
slight
tax
is
wont
to
appear
exorbitant,
particularly
if
they
are
obliged
to
earn
it
by
special
labor
with
their
hands.
If
there
were
one
who
lived
wholly
without
the
use
of
money,
the
State
itself
would
hesitate
to
demand
it
of
him.
But
the
rich
man
--not
to
make
any
invidious
comparison
--is
always
sold
to
the
institution
which
makes
him
rich.
Absolutely
speaking,
the
more
money,
the
less
virtue;
for
money
comes
between
a
man
and
his
objects,
and
obtains
them
for
him;
it
was
certainly
no
great
virtue
to
obtain
it.
It
puts
to
rest
many
questions
which
he
would
otherwise
be
taxed
to
answer;
while
the
only
new
question
which
it
puts
is
the
hard
but
superfluous
one,
how
to
spend
it.
Thus
his
moral
ground
is
taken
from
under
his
feet.
The
opportunities
of
living
are
diminished
in
proportion
as
that
are
called
the
“means”
are
increased.
The
best
thing
a
man
can
do
for
his
culture
when
he
is
rich
is
to
endeavor
to
carry
out
those
schemes
which
he
entertained
when
he
was
poor.
Christ
answered
the
Herodians
according
to
their
condition.
“Show
me
the
tribute-money,”
said
he
--and
one
took
a
penny
out
of
his
--if
you
use
money
which
has
the
image
of
Caesar
on
it,
and
which
he
has
made
current
and
valuable,
that
is,
_if
you
are
men
of
the
State_,
and
gladly
enjoy
the
advantages
of
Caesar’s
government,
then
pay
him
back
some
of
his
own
when
he
demands
it.
“Render
therefore
to
Caesar
that
which
is
Caesar’s
and
to
God
those
things
which
are
God’s”
--leaving
them
no
wiser
than
before
as
to
which
was
which;
for
they
did
not
wish
to
know.
--
When
I
converse
with
the
freest
of
my
neighbors,
I
perceive
that,
whatever
they
may
say
about
the
magnitude
and
seriousness
of
the
question,
and
their
regard
for
the
public
tranquillity,
the
long
and
the
short
of
the
matter
is,
that
they
cannot
spare
the
protection
of
the
existing
government,
and
they
dread
the
consequences
to
their
property
and
families
of
disobedience
to
it.
For
my
own
part,
I
should
not
like
to
think
that
I
ever
rely
on
the
protection
of
the
State.
But,
if
I
deny
the
authority
of
the
State
when
it
presents
its
tax
bill,
it
will
soon
take
and
waste
all
my
property,
and
so
harass
me
and
my
children
without
end.
This
is
hard.
This
makes
it
impossible
for
a
man
to
live
honestly,
and
at
the
same
time
comfortably,
in
outward
respects.
It
will
not
be
worth
the
while
to
accumulate
property;
that
would
be
sure
to
go
again.
You
must
hire
or
squat
somewhere,
and
raise
but
a
small
crop,
and
eat
that
soon.
You
must
live
within
yourself,
and
depend
upon
yourself
always
tucked
up
and
ready
for
a
start,
and
not
have
many
affairs.
A
man
may
grow
rich
in
Turkey
even,
if
he
will
be
in
all
respects
a
good
subject
of
the
Turkish
government.
Confucius
said:
“If
a
state
is
governed
by
the
principles
of
reason,
poverty
and
misery
are
subjects
of
shame;
if
a
state
is
not
governed
by
the
principles
of
reason,
riches
and
honors
are
subjects
of
shame.”
No:
until
I
want
the
protection
of
Massachusetts
to
be
extended
to
me
in
some
distant
Southern
port,
where
my
liberty
is
endangered,
or
until
I
am
bent
solely
on
building
up
an
estate
at
home
by
peaceful
enterprise,
I
can
afford
to
refuse
allegiance
to
Massachusetts,
and
her
right
to
my
property
and
life.
It
costs
me
less
in
every
sense
to
incur
the
penalty
of
disobedience
to
the
State
than
it
would
to
obey.
I
should
feel
as
if
I
were
worth
less
in
that
case.
--
Some
years
ago,
the
State
met
me
in
behalf
of
the
Church,
and
commanded
me
to
pay
a
certain
sum
toward
the
support
of
a
clergyman
whose
preaching
my
father
attended,
but
never
I
myself.
“Pay,”
it
said,
“or
be
locked
up
in
the
jail.”
I
declined
to
pay.
But,
unfortunately,
another
man
saw
fit
to
pay
it.
I
did
not
see
why
the
schoolmaster
should
be
taxed
to
support
the
priest,
and
not
the
priest
the
schoolmaster;
for
I
was
not
the
State’s
schoolmaster,
but
I
supported
myself
by
voluntary
subscription.
I
did
not
see
why
the
lyceum
should
not
present
its
tax
bill,
and
have
the
State
to
back
its
demand,
as
well
as
the
Church.
However,
at
the
request
of
the
selectmen,
I
condescended
to
make
some
such
statement
as
this
in
writing:
“Know
all
men
by
these
presents,
that
I,
Henry
Thoreau,
do
not
wish
to
be
regarded
as
a
member
of
any
incorporated
society
which
I
have
not
joined.”
This
I
gave
to
the
town
clerk;
and
he
has
it.
The
State,
having
thus
learned
that
I
did
not
wish
to
be
regarded
as
a
member
of
that
church,
has
never
made
a
like
demand
on
me
since;
though
it
said
that
it
must
adhere
to
its
original
presumption
that
time.
If
I
had
known
how
to
name
them,
I
should
then
have
signed
off
in
detail
from
all
the
societies
which
I
never
signed
on
to;
but
I
did
not
know
where
to
find
such
a
complete
list.
--
I
have
paid
no
poll
tax
for
six
years.
I
was
put
into
a
jail
once
on
this
account,
for
one
night;
and,
as
I
stood
considering
the
walls
of
solid
stone,
two
or
three
feet
thick,
the
door
of
wood
and
iron,
a
foot
thick,
and
the
iron
grating
which
strained
the
light,
I
could
not
help
being
struck
with
the
foolishness
of
that
institution
which
treated
me
as
if
I
were
mere
flesh
and
blood
and
bones,
to
be
locked
up.
I
wondered
that
it
should
have
concluded
at
length
that
this
was
the
best
use
it
could
put
me
to,
and
had
never
thought
to
avail
itself
of
my
services
in
some
way.
I
saw
that,
if
there
was
a
wall
of
stone
between
me
and
my
townsmen,
there
was
a
still
more
difficult
one
to
climb
or
break
through
before
they
could
get
to
be
as
free
as
I
was.
I
did
not
for
a
moment
feel
confined,
and
the
walls
seemed
a
great
waste
of
stone
and
mortar.
I
felt
as
if
I
alone
of
all
my
townsmen
had
paid
my
tax.
They
plainly
did
not
know
how
to
treat
me,
but
behaved
like
persons
who
are
underbred.
In
every
threat
and
in
every
compliment
there
was
a
blunder;
for
they
thought
that
my
chief
desire
was
to
stand
the
other
side
of
that
stone
wall.
I
could
not
but
smile
to
see
how
industriously
they
locked
the
door
on
my
meditations,
which
followed
them
out
again
without
let
or
hindrance,
and
_they_
were
really
all
that
was
dangerous.
As
they
could
not
reach
me,
they
had
resolved
to
punish
my
body;
just
as
boys,
if
they
cannot
come
at
some
person
against
whom
they
have
a
spite,
will
abuse
his
dog.
I
saw
that
the
State
was
half-witted,
that
it
was
timid
as
a
lone
woman
with
her
silver
spoons,
and
that
it
did
not
know
its
friends
from
its
foes,
and
I
lost
all
my
remaining
respect
for
it,
and
pitied
it.
--
Thus
the
state
never
intentionally
confronts
a
man’s
sense,
intellectual
or
moral,
but
only
his
body,
his
senses.
It
is
not
armed
with
superior
wit
or
honesty,
but
with
superior
physical
strength.
I
was
not
born
to
be
forced.
I
will
breathe
after
my
own
fashion.
Let
us
see
who
is
the
strongest.
What
force
has
a
multitude?
They
only
can
force
me
who
obey
a
higher
law
than
I.
They
force
me
to
become
like
themselves.
I
do
not
hear
of
_men_
being
_forced_
to
live
this
way
or
that
by
masses
of
men.
What
sort
of
life
were
that
to
live?
When
I
meet
a
government
which
says
to
me,
“Your
money
or
your
life,”
why
should
I
be
in
haste
to
give
it
my
money?
It
may
be
in
a
great
strait,
and
not
know
what
to
do:
I
cannot
help
that.
It
must
help
itself;
do
as
I
do.
It
is
not
worth
the
while
to
snivel
about
it.
I
am
not
responsible
for
the
successful
working
of
the
machinery
of
society.
I
am
not
the
son
of
the
engineer.
I
perceive
that,
when
an
acorn
and
a
chestnut
fall
side
by
side,
the
one
does
not
remain
inert
to
make
way
for
the
other,
but
both
obey
their
own
laws,
and
spring
and
grow
and
flourish
as
best
they
can,
till
one,
perchance,
overshadows
and
destroys
the
other.
If
a
plant
cannot
live
according
to
nature,
it
dies;
and
so
a
man.
--
The
night
in
prison
was
novel
and
interesting
enough.
The
prisoners
in
their
shirtsleeves
were
enjoying
a
chat
and
the
evening
air
in
the
doorway,
when
I
entered.
But
the
jailer
said,
“Come,
boys,
it
is
time
to
lock
up”;
and
so
they
dispersed,
and
I
heard
the
sound
of
their
steps
returning
into
the
hollow
apartments.
My
room-mate
was
introduced
to
me
by
the
jailer
as
“a
first-rate
fellow
and
clever
man.”
When
the
door
was
locked,
he
showed
me
where
to
hang
my
hat,
and
how
he
managed
matters
there.
The
rooms
were
whitewashed
once
a
month;
and
this
one,
at
least,
was
the
whitest,
most
simply
furnished,
and
probably
neatest
apartment
in
town.
He
naturally
wanted
to
know
where
I
came
from,
and
what
brought
me
there;
and,
when
I
had
told
him,
I
asked
him
in
my
turn
how
he
came
there,
presuming
him
to
be
an
honest
man,
of
course;
and
as
the
world
goes,
I
believe
he
was.
“Why,”
said
he,
“they
accuse
me
of
burning
a
barn;
but
I
never
did
it.”
As
near
as
I
could
discover,
he
had
probably
gone
to
bed
in
a
barn
when
drunk,
and
smoked
his
pipe
there;
and
so
a
barn
was
burnt.
He
had
the
reputation
of
being
a
clever
man,
had
been
there
some
three
months
waiting
for
his
trial
to
come
on,
and
would
have
to
wait
as
much
longer;
but
he
was
quite
domesticated
and
contented,
since
he
got
his
board
for
nothing,
and
thought
that
he
was
well
treated.
--
He
occupied
one
window,
and
I
the
other;
and
I
saw
that
if
one
stayed
there
long,
his
principal
business
would
be
to
look
out
the
window.
I
had
soon
read
all
the
tracts
that
were
left
there,
and
examined
where
former
prisoners
had
broken
out,
and
where
a
grate
had
been
sawed
off,
and
heard
the
history
of
the
various
occupants
of
that
room;
for
I
found
that
even
there
there
was
a
history
and
a
gossip
which
never
circulated
beyond
the
walls
of
the
jail.
Probably
this
is
the
only
house
in
the
town
where
verses
are
composed,
which
are
afterward
printed
in
a
circular
form,
but
not
published.
I
was
shown
quite
a
long
list
of
young
men
who
had
been
detected
in
an
attempt
to
escape,
who
avenged
themselves
by
singing
them.
--
I
pumped
my
fellow-prisoner
as
dry
as
I
could,
for
fear
I
should
never
see
him
again;
but
at
length
he
showed
me
which
was
my
bed,
and
left
me
to
blow
out
the
lamp.
--
It
was
like
travelling
into
a
far
country,
such
as
I
had
never
expected
to
behold,
to
lie
there
for
one
night.
It
seemed
to
me
that
I
never
had
heard
the
town
clock
strike
before,
nor
the
evening
sounds
of
the
village;
for
we
slept
with
the
windows
open,
which
were
inside
the
grating.
It
was
to
see
my
native
village
in
the
light
of
the
Middle
Ages,
and
our
Concord
was
turned
into
a
Rhine
stream,
and
visions
of
knights
and
castles
passed
before
me.
They
were
the
voices
of
old
burghers
that
I
heard
in
the
streets.
I
was
an
involuntary
spectator
and
auditor
of
whatever
was
done
and
said
in
the
kitchen
of
the
adjacent
village
inn
--a
wholly
new
and
rare
experience
to
me.
It
was
a
closer
view
of
my
native
town.
I
was
fairly
inside
of
it.
I
never
had
seen
its
institutions
before.
This
is
one
of
its
peculiar
institutions;
for
it
is
a
shire
town.
I
began
to
comprehend
what
its
inhabitants
were
about.
--
In
the
morning,
our
breakfasts
were
put
through
the
hole
in
the
door,
in
small
oblong-square
tin
pans,
made
to
fit,
and
holding
a
pint
of
chocolate,
with
brown
bread,
and
an
iron
spoon.
When
they
called
for
the
vessels
again,
I
was
green
enough
to
return
what
bread
I
had
left,
but
my
comrade
seized
it,
and
said
that
I
should
lay
that
up
for
lunch
or
dinner.
Soon
after
he
was
let
out
to
work
at
haying
in
a
neighboring
field,
whither
he
went
every
day,
and
would
not
be
back
till
noon;
so
he
bade
me
good
day,
saying
that
he
doubted
if
he
should
see
me
again.
--
When
I
came
out
of
prison
--for
some
one
interfered,
and
paid
that
tax
--I
did
not
perceive
that
great
changes
had
taken
place
on
the
common,
such
as
he
observed
who
went
in
a
youth
and
emerged
a
gray-headed
man;
and
yet
a
change
had
come
to
my
eyes
come
over
the
scene
--the
town,
and
State,
and
country,
greater
than
any
that
mere
time
could
effect.
I
saw
yet
more
distinctly
the
State
in
which
I
lived.
I
saw
to
what
extent
the
people
among
whom
I
lived
could
be
trusted
as
good
neighbors
and
friends;
that
their
friendship
was
for
summer
weather
only;
that
they
did
not
greatly
propose
to
do
right;
that
they
were
a
distinct
race
from
me
by
their
prejudices
and
superstitions,
as
the
Chinamen
and
Malays
are;
that
in
their
sacrifices
to
humanity
they
ran
no
risks,
not
even
to
their
property;
that
after
all
they
were
not
so
noble
but
they
treated
the
thief
as
he
had
treated
them,
and
hoped,
by
a
certain
outward
observance
and
a
few
prayers,
and
by
walking
in
a
particular
straight
though
useless
path
from
time
to
time,
to
save
their
souls.
This
may
be
to
judge
my
neighbors
harshly;
for
I
believe
that
many
of
them
are
not
aware
that
they
have
such
an
institution
as
the
jail
in
their
village.
--
It
was
formerly
the
custom
in
our
village,
when
a
poor
debtor
came
out
of
jail,
for
his
acquaintances
to
salute
him,
looking
through
their
fingers,
which
were
crossed
to
represent
the
jail
window,
“How
do
ye
do?”
My
neighbors
did
not
thus
salute
me,
but
first
looked
at
me,
and
then
at
one
another,
as
if
I
had
returned
from
a
long
journey.
I
was
put
into
jail
as
I
was
going
to
the
shoemaker’s
to
get
a
shoe
which
was
mended.
When
I
was
let
out
the
next
morning,
I
proceeded
to
finish
my
errand,
and,
having
put
on
my
mended
shoe,
joined
a
huckleberry
party,
who
were
impatient
to
put
themselves
under
my
conduct;
and
in
half
an
hour
--for
the
horse
was
soon
tackled
--was
in
the
midst
of
a
huckleberry
field,
on
one
of
our
highest
hills,
two
miles
off,
and
then
the
State
was
nowhere
to
be
seen.
--
This
is
the
whole
history
of
“My
Prisons.”
--
I
have
never
declined
paying
the
highway
tax,
because
I
am
as
desirous
of
being
a
good
neighbor
as
I
am
of
being
a
bad
subject;
and
as
for
supporting
schools,
I
am
doing
my
part
to
educate
my
fellow
countrymen
now.
It
is
for
no
particular
item
in
the
tax
bill
that
I
refuse
to
pay
it.
I
simply
wish
to
refuse
allegiance
to
the
State,
to
withdraw
and
stand
aloof
from
it
effectually.
I
do
not
care
to
trace
the
course
of
my
dollar,
if
I
could,
till
it
buys
a
man
or
a
musket
to
shoot
one
with
--the
dollar
is
innocent
--but
I
am
concerned
to
trace
the
effects
of
my
allegiance.
In
fact,
I
quietly
declare
war
with
the
State,
after
my
fashion,
though
I
will
still
make
use
and
get
what
advantages
of
her
I
can,
as
is
usual
in
such
cases.
--
If
others
pay
the
tax
which
is
demanded
of
me,
from
a
sympathy
with
the
State,
they
do
but
what
they
have
already
done
in
their
own
case,
or
rather
they
abet
injustice
to
a
greater
extent
than
the
State
requires.
If
they
pay
the
tax
from
a
mistaken
interest
in
the
individual
taxed,
to
save
his
property,
or
prevent
his
going
to
jail,
it
is
because
they
have
not
considered
wisely
how
far
they
let
their
private
feelings
interfere
with
the
public
good.
--
This,
then,
is
my
position
at
present.
But
one
cannot
be
too
much
on
his
guard
in
such
a
case,
lest
his
actions
be
biased
by
obstinacy
or
an
undue
regard
for
the
opinions
of
men.
Let
him
see
that
he
does
only
what
belongs
to
himself
and
to
the
hour.
--
I
think
sometimes,
Why,
this
people
mean
well,
they
are
only
ignorant;
they
would
do
better
if
they
knew
how:
why
give
your
neighbors
this
pain
to
treat
you
as
they
are
not
inclined
to?
But
I
think
again,
This
is
no
reason
why
I
should
do
as
they
do,
or
permit
others
to
suffer
much
greater
pain
of
a
different
kind.
Again,
I
sometimes
say
to
myself,
When
many
millions
of
men,
without
heat,
without
ill
will,
without
personal
feelings
of
any
kind,
demand
of
you
a
few
shillings
only,
without
the
possibility,
such
is
their
constitution,
of
retracting
or
altering
their
present
demand,
and
without
the
possibility,
on
your
side,
of
appeal
to
any
other
millions,
why
expose
yourself
to
this
overwhelming
brute
force?
You
do
not
resist
cold
and
hunger,
the
winds
and
the
waves,
thus
obstinately;
you
quietly
submit
to
a
thousand
similar
necessities.
You
do
not
put
your
head
into
the
fire.
But
just
in
proportion
as
I
regard
this
as
not
wholly
a
brute
force,
but
partly
a
human
force,
and
consider
that
I
have
relations
to
those
millions
as
to
so
many
millions
of
men,
and
not
of
mere
brute
or
inanimate
things,
I
see
that
appeal
is
possible,
first
and
instantaneously,
from
them
to
the
Maker
of
them,
and,
secondly,
from
them
to
themselves.
But
if
I
put
my
head
deliberately
into
the
fire,
there
is
no
appeal
to
fire
or
to
the
Maker
of
fire,
and
I
have
only
myself
to
blame.
If
I
could
convince
myself
that
I
have
any
right
to
be
satisfied
with
men
as
they
are,
and
to
treat
them
accordingly,
and
not
according,
in
some
respects,
to
my
requisitions
and
expectations
of
what
they
and
I
ought
to
be,
then,
like
a
good
Mussulman
and
fatalist,
I
should
endeavor
to
be
satisfied
with
things
as
they
are,
and
say
it
is
the
will
of
God.
And,
above
all,
there
is
this
difference
between
resisting
this
and
a
purely
brute
or
natural
force,
that
I
can
resist
this
with
some
effect;
but
I
cannot
expect,
like
Orpheus,
to
change
the
nature
of
the
rocks
and
trees
and
beasts.
--
I
do
not
wish
to
quarrel
with
any
man
or
nation.
I
do
not
wish
to
split
hairs,
to
make
fine
distinctions,
or
set
myself
up
as
better
than
my
neighbors.
I
seek
rather,
I
may
say,
even
an
excuse
for
conforming
to
the
laws
of
the
land.
I
am
but
too
ready
to
conform
to
them.
Indeed,
I
have
reason
to
suspect
myself
on
this
head;
and
each
year,
as
the
tax-gatherer
comes
round,
I
find
myself
disposed
to
review
the
acts
and
position
of
the
general
and
State
governments,
and
the
spirit
of
the
people
to
discover
a
pretext
for
conformity.
--
“We
must
affect
our
country
as
our
parents,
And
if
at
any
time
we
alienate
Our
love
of
industry
from
doing
it
honor,
We
must
respect
effects
and
teach
the
soul
Matter
of
conscience
and
religion,
And
not
desire
of
rule
or
benefit.”
--
I
believe
that
the
State
will
soon
be
able
to
take
all
my
work
of
this
sort
out
of
my
hands,
and
then
I
shall
be
no
better
patriot
than
my
fellow-countrymen.
Seen
from
a
lower
point
of
view,
the
Constitution,
with
all
its
faults,
is
very
good;
the
law
and
the
courts
are
very
respectable;
even
this
State
and
this
American
government
are,
in
many
respects,
very
admirable,
and
rare
things,
to
be
thankful
for,
such
as
a
great
many
have
described
them;
seen
from
a
higher
still,
and
the
highest,
who
shall
say
what
they
are,
or
that
they
are
worth
looking
at
or
thinking
of
at
all?
--
However,
the
government
does
not
concern
me
much,
and
I
shall
bestow
the
fewest
possible
thoughts
on
it.
It
is
not
many
moments
that
I
live
under
a
government,
even
in
this
world.
If
a
man
is
thought-free,
fancy-free,
imagination-free,
that
which
_is
not_
never
for
a
long
time
appearing
_to
be_
to
him,
unwise
rulers
or
reformers
cannot
fatally
interrupt
him.
--
I
know
that
most
men
think
differently
from
myself;
but
those
whose
lives
are
by
profession
devoted
to
the
study
of
these
or
kindred
subjects
content
me
as
little
as
any.
Statesmen
and
legislators,
standing
so
completely
within
the
institution,
never
distinctly
and
nakedly
behold
it.
They
speak
of
moving
society,
but
have
no
resting-place
without
it.
They
may
be
men
of
a
certain
experience
and
discrimination,
and
have
no
doubt
invented
ingenious
and
even
useful
systems,
for
which
we
sincerely
thank
them;
but
all
their
wit
and
usefulness
lie
within
certain
not
very
wide
limits.
They
are
wont
to
forget
that
the
world
is
not
governed
by
policy
and
expediency.
Webster
never
goes
behind
government,
and
so
cannot
speak
with
authority
about
it.
His
words
are
wisdom
to
those
legislators
who
contemplate
no
essential
reform
in
the
existing
government;
but
for
thinkers,
and
those
who
legislate
for
all
time,
he
never
once
glances
at
the
subject.
I
know
of
those
whose
serene
and
wise
speculations
on
this
theme
would
soon
reveal
the
limits
of
his
mind’s
range
and
hospitality.
Yet,
compared
with
the
cheap
professions
of
most
reformers,
and
the
still
cheaper
wisdom
and
eloquence
of
politicians
in
general,
his
are
almost
the
only
sensible
and
valuable
words,
and
we
thank
Heaven
for
him.
Comparatively,
he
is
always
strong,
original,
and,
above
all,
practical.
Still,
his
quality
is
not
wisdom,
but
prudence.
The
lawyer’s
truth
is
not
Truth,
but
consistency
or
a
consistent
expediency.
Truth
is
always
in
harmony
with
herself,
and
is
not
concerned
chiefly
to
reveal
the
justice
that
may
consist
with
wrong-doing.
He
well
deserves
to
be
called,
as
he
has
been
called,
the
Defender
of
the
Constitution.
There
are
really
no
blows
to
be
given
him
but
defensive
ones.
He
is
not
a
leader,
but
a
follower.
His
leaders
are
the
men
of
‘87.
“I
have
never
made
an
effort,”
he
says,
“and
never
propose
to
make
an
effort;
I
have
never
countenanced
an
effort,
and
never
mean
to
countenance
an
effort,
to
disturb
the
arrangement
as
originally
made,
by
which
various
States
came
into
the
Union.”
Still
thinking
of
the
sanction
which
the
Constitution
gives
to
slavery,
he
says,
“Because
it
was
part
of
the
original
compact
--let
it
stand.”
Notwithstanding
his
special
acuteness
and
ability,
he
is
unable
to
take
a
fact
out
of
its
merely
political
relations,
and
behold
it
as
it
lies
absolutely
to
be
disposed
of
by
the
intellect
--what,
for
instance,
it
behooves
a
man
to
do
here
in
America
today
with
regard
to
slavery
--but
ventures,
or
is
driven,
to
make
some
such
desperate
answer
to
the
following,
while
professing
to
speak
absolutely,
and
as
a
private
man
--from
which
what
new
and
singular
of
social
duties
might
be
inferred?
“The
manner,”
says
he,
“in
which
the
governments
of
the
States
where
slavery
exists
are
to
regulate
it
is
for
their
own
consideration,
under
the
responsibility
to
their
constituents,
to
the
general
laws
of
propriety,
humanity,
and
justice,
and
to
God.
Associations
formed
elsewhere,
springing
from
a
feeling
of
humanity,
or
any
other
cause,
have
nothing
whatever
to
do
with
it.
They
have
never
received
any
encouragement
from
me
and
they
never
will.”
[These
extracts
have
been
inserted
since
the
lecture
was
read
-HDT]
--
They
who
know
of
no
purer
sources
of
truth,
who
have
traced
up
its
stream
no
higher,
stand,
and
wisely
stand,
by
the
Bible
and
the
Constitution,
and
drink
at
it
there
with
reverence
and
humanity;
but
they
who
behold
where
it
comes
trickling
into
this
lake
or
that
pool,
gird
up
their
loins
once
more,
and
continue
their
pilgrimage
toward
its
fountainhead.
--
No
man
with
a
genius
for
legislation
has
appeared
in
America.
They
are
rare
in
the
history
of
the
world.
There
are
orators,
politicians,
and
eloquent
men,
by
the
thousand;
but
the
speaker
has
not
yet
opened
his
mouth
to
speak
who
is
capable
of
settling
the
much-vexed
questions
of
the
day.
We
love
eloquence
for
its
own
sake,
and
not
for
any
truth
which
it
may
utter,
or
any
heroism
it
may
inspire.
Our
legislators
have
not
yet
learned
the
comparative
value
of
free
trade
and
of
freedom,
of
union,
and
of
rectitude,
to
a
nation.
They
have
no
genius
or
talent
for
comparatively
humble
questions
of
taxation
and
finance,
commerce
and
manufactures
and
agriculture.
If
we
were
left
solely
to
the
wordy
wit
of
legislators
in
Congress
for
our
guidance,
uncorrected
by
the
seasonable
experience
and
the
effectual
complaints
of
the
people,
America
would
not
long
retain
her
rank
among
the
nations.
For
eighteen
hundred
years,
though
perchance
I
have
no
right
to
say
it,
the
New
Testament
has
been
written;
yet
where
is
the
legislator
who
has
wisdom
and
practical
talent
enough
to
avail
himself
of
the
light
which
it
sheds
on
the
science
of
legislation.
--
The
authority
of
government,
even
such
as
I
am
willing
to
submit
to
--for
I
will
cheerfully
obey
those
who
know
and
can
do
better
than
I,
and
in
many
things
even
those
who
neither
know
nor
can
do
so
well
--is
still
an
impure
one:
to
be
strictly
just,
it
must
have
the
sanction
and
consent
of
the
governed.
It
can
have
no
pure
right
over
my
person
and
property
but
what
I
concede
to
it.
The
progress
from
an
absolute
to
a
limited
monarchy,
from
a
limited
monarchy
to
a
democracy,
is
a
progress
toward
a
true
respect
for
the
individual.
Even
the
Chinese
philosopher
was
wise
enough
to
regard
the
individual
as
the
basis
of
the
empire.
Is
a
democracy,
such
as
we
know
it,
the
last
improvement
possible
in
government?
Is
it
not
possible
to
take
a
step
further
towards
recognizing
and
organizing
the
rights
of
man?
There
will
never
be
a
really
free
and
enlightened
State
until
the
State
comes
to
recognize
the
individual
as
a
higher
and
independent
power,
from
which
all
its
own
power
and
authority
are
derived,
and
treats
him
accordingly.
I
please
myself
with
imagining
a
State
at
last
which
can
afford
to
be
just
to
all
men,
and
to
treat
the
individual
with
respect
as
a
neighbor;
which
even
would
not
think
it
inconsistent
with
its
own
repose
if
a
few
were
to
live
aloof
from
it,
not
meddling
with
it,
nor
embraced
by
it,
who
fulfilled
all
the
duties
of
neighbors
and
fellow
men.
A
State
which
bore
this
kind
of
fruit,
and
suffered
it
to
drop
off
as
fast
as
it
ripened,
would
prepare
the
way
for
a
still
more
perfect
and
glorious
State,
which
I
have
also
imagined,
but
not
yet
anywhere
seen.
--