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