Henry David Thoreau

On the Duty of Civil Disobedience

[1849, original title: Resistance to Civil Government]

I heartily accept the motto, "That government is best which governs least"; and I should
like to see it acted up to more rapidly and systematically. Carried out, it finally amounts to
this, which also I believe — "That government is best which governs not at all"; and when
men are prepared for it, that will be the kind of government which 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?

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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.

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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

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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 —

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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

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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

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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.

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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.

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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

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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

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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?

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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

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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.

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