“Resistance to Civil Government” by H.D. Thoreau (“Civil Disobedience”)
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.
[¶1]
This essay can also be found in the book My Thoughts are Murder to the State: Thoreau’s essays on political philosophy.
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; and, if ever they should use it in earnest
as a real one against each other, it will surely split. 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. Itdoes not keep the country free. Itdoes not
settle the
West. Itdoes 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.
[¶2]
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.
[¶3]
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 cannot be based
on justice, even as far as men understand it. Can there not
be a government in which 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 of 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 accompaniments, though it may be
“Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O’er the grave where our hero we buried.”
[¶4]
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, &c.
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 by it as enemies. 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 secondary at control,
Or useful serving-man and instrument
To any sovereign state throughout the world.”
[¶5]
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.
[¶6]
How does it become a man to behave toward this
American government to-day? I answer that he
cannot without disgrace be
associated with it. I cannot for an
instant recognize that political
organization as mygovernment
which is
the
slave’s government also.
[¶7]
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 . 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
counterbalance 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.
[¶8]
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 inconveniency, 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.
[¶9]
In their practice, nations agree with Paley; but does any one think that
Massachusetts does exactly what is right at the present crisis?
“A drab of state, a cloth-o’-silver slut,
To have her train borne up, and her soul trail in the dirt.”
“…while the law holds fast the thief and murderer, it lets itself
go loose. When I have not paid the tax which the state demanded for
that protection which I did not want, itself has robbed me;
when I have asserted the liberty it presumed to
declare, itself has imprisoned me. Poor
creature! if it knows no better I will not blame it. If it
cannot live but by these means, I can. I do not wish, it happens,
to be associated with Massachusetts,
either in holding slaves or in conquering
Mexico. I am a little better than herself in these
respects.”
— A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
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
materially wiser or better than the many. It is not so
important that many should be as 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 to-day? 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 only a cheap vote, and a
feeble countenance and God-speed, 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.
[¶10]
All voting is a sort of gaming, like chequers 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 rightisdoing 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.
[¶11]
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 his 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. Oh 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 alms-houses are in good repair; and, before yet he has
lawfully donned the
virile garb, to collect a fund for 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.
[¶12]
It is not a man’s duty, as a matter of course, to devote
himself to the eradication of any, even the 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 nought; 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.
[¶13]
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?
[¶14]
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 that 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 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 any thing which was. It not only divides
states and churches, it divides families; aye, it divides
the individual, separating the
diabolical in him from the divine.
[¶15]
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 isworse than the evil.
Itmakes 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 be on the alert to point 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?
[¶16]
One would think, that a deliberate and practical
denial of its authority was the only offense never
contemplated by 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 placed him
there; but if he should steal ninety times nine shillings from the
State, he is soon permitted to go at large again.
[¶17]
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.
[¶18]
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 every thing to do,
but something; and because he cannot do every
thing, it is not necessary that he should do
something wrong. It is not my business to be
petitioning the
governororthe
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 unconciliatory; 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.
[¶19]
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.
[¶20]
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 what he is and does as an
officer of the government, or as a man, until he is
obliged to consider whether he shall 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, — aye, if one
honest man, in this State of
Massachusetts, ceasing to hold slaves, were
actually to withdraw from this copartnership,
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 for ever. 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 the following winter.
[¶21]
Under a government which imprisons any unjustly,
the true place for a just man is also a prison. The proper place
to-day, the only place which Massachusetts has
provided for her freer and less desponding 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 his
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.
[¶22]
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 what are
called the “means” are increased. The best thing a man can do for his
culture when he is rich is to endeavour 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
Cæsar 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
Cæsar’s government, then pay him back some of his own when he
demands it; “Render therefore to Cæsar that which is
Cæsar’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.
[¶23]
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 of disobedience to it to their
property and families. 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 the 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.
[¶24]
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 a complete list.
[¶25]
“f the first
summer, when I went to the village to get a shoe from the
cobbler’s, I was seized and put into jail, because, as I have
elsewhere related, I did not pay a tax to, or
recognize the authority of, the state which buys and
sells men, women, and children, like cattle at the door of its
senate-house. I had gone down the woods for other purposes. But,
wherever a man goes, men will pursue and paw him with their dirty
institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to
belong to their desperate odd-fellow
society. It is true, I might have resisted
forcibly with more or less effect, might have run ‘amok’
against society; but I preferred that
society should run ‘amok’ against me, it being the
desperate party.”
―Walden
I have paid no poll-tax
for six years. I was put into a jail once on this account, for
ht; 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.
[¶26]
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
its nature, it dies; and so a man.
[¶27]
The night in prison was novel and interesting enough. The
prisoners in their shirt-sleeves were enjoying a chat
and the evening air in the door-way, 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 the neatest apartment in the
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.
[¶28]
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
here 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 verses which were
composed by some young men who had been detected in an attempt
to escape, who avenged themselves by singing them.
[¶29]
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.
[¶30]
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.
[¶31]
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.
[¶32]
When I came out of prison, — for some one interfered, and paid the
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
tottering and gray-headed man; and yet a change had 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
purpose 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. [¶33]
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.
[¶34]
This is the whole history of “My Prisons.”
[¶35]
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. [¶36]
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.
[¶37]
This, then, is my position at present. But one cannot be
too much on his guard in such a case, lest his action be biassed 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. [¶38]
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.
[¶39]
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 or 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.”
[¶40]
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 a 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; but seen from a point of view a
little higher, they are what I 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?
[¶41]
“[H]e had rated it a gain in coming to America, that
here you could get tea, and coffee, and meat every day. But the
only true America is that country where you are at
liberty to do without these, and where the state does not
endeavor to compel you to sustain the slavery and
war and other superfluous expenses which
directly result from the use of such things.”
— Walden
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.
[¶42]
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 .
“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 the
various States came into the Union.” Still thinking of
the sanction which the Constitution gives to
slavery, he says, “Because it was a 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 behoves a man to
do here in American to-day with regard to slavery, but
ventures, or is driven, to make some such desperate
answer as the following, while professing to
speak absolutely, and as a private man, — from which what
new and singular code of social duties might be
inferred? — “The manner,” says he, “in which the government of those
States where slavery exists are to regulate it, is for
their own consideration, under their
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.”
[¶43]
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 humility; 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
fountain-head.
[¶44]
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.
[¶45]
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.
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 also I have imagined, but not yet
anywhere seen.
[¶46]
(一)These extracts have been inserted since the lecture was read.
See also:
●The Theory, Practice, and Influence of Thoreau’s Civil Disobedience by Lawrence Rosenwald
●Highway Tax vs. Poll Tax: Some Thoreau Tax Trivia by Carl Watner
Find Out More!
For more information on the topic or topics below (organized as “topic →
subtopic →
sub-subtopic”), click on any of the ♦ symbols to see other pages on this site that cover the topic. Or browse the site’s topic index at the “Outline” page.
Henry David Thoreau →
his writings →
Resistance to Civil Government (Civil Disobedience)
▶
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
●latest
●index
●classics
●how-to guide
●topics
●FAQ
●chronoscope
●links
email
(PGP)
●