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 pocket
--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.