The CDPD Public Domain Collection for CDTV 3/CDPDIII.bin/books/thoreau/civil disobedience

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                                      1849
                               CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE
                             by Henry David Thoreau

  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 on, 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 the
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 mischievous 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 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 legislation? 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 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 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 judgment 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 secondary 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 this 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 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 the 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 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.
  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."

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,
cooperate 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 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 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.
  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 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 reason 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 this 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 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.
  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 naught; as if the state were penitent to that degree
that it differed 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 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 anything which was. It not only divides 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 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?
  One would think, that a deliberate and practical denial of its
authority was the only offence 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.
  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 do 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 bear 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 an 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 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- ay, 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 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 the following winter.
  Under a government which imprisons any 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
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.
  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; and 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 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 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.
  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.
  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 have 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.
  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 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 a 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.
  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.
  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
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
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 grating of a 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
what use and get what advantage 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 action 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 feeling 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 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."

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?
  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 by 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 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 behooves a man to
do here in America today 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 governments 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."
  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.
  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
least 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.

                                  THE END