Désobéir aux lois
Compagnon de Bronson Alcott, d'Ellery Channing, de Margaret Fuller, de Nathaniel Hawthorne, de Ralph Waldo Emerson, - peut-être subit-il, à ses débuts, l'influence de celui-ci, qu'en retour il influença dans le sens d'une manière plus simple et plus large de penser et de vivre, à une époque où Emerson inclinait vers une direction toute opposée.
Les pages qu'on va lire sont extraites d'Anti-Slavery and Reform Papers. Autres oeuvres de Thoreau : The Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers, The Maine Woods, Cape Cod, Excursions, etc. La plus populaire est Walden or Life in the Woods. Cette vie dans les bois, qui ne prit qu'une part bien minime de son existence - deux ans et demi - impressionna vivement l'opinion. Les préjugés se coalisèrent contre le présomptueux moraliste de village, le « Diogène Yankee », qui mettait en question les neuf dixièmes des institutions les mieux assises : il fut accusé de misanthropie, de scepticisme, d'orgueil, de mauvaise foi, de cynisme. A la vérité, le « retour à la nature», comme il l'entend, n'implique pas un regret correspondant de la civilisation vers la barbarie; il considère la civilisation comme « un réel progrès dans la condition de l'homme », mais il veut « montrer au prix de quel sacrifice cet avantage est aujourd'hui obtenu, et suggérer que l'on pourrait s'assurer tous les bénéfices de la civilisation sans pâtir de ses inconvénients actuels ».
Il ne se désintéressa jamais des affaires humaines, et quand John Brown fut arrêté et condamné, la première voix qui s'éleva en faveur de l'insurgé fut celle de Thoreau, dans son superbe « Plea for Captain John Brown ».
Thoreau est né à Concord (Massachusetts) le 12 juillet 1817. Son père, d'origine française, était fabricant de crayons; sa mère, Cynthia Dunbar, était fille d'un pasteur du New Hampshire. De 1833 à 1837, il étudia à l'Université Harvard. A l'exception de brèves absences, il vécut à Concord, où il subvenait à ses besoins par les occupations les plus diverses, et où il mourut le 6 mai 1862. Sa vie a été écrite par M. Henry S. Salt."
J'accepte de bon coeur la formule : « Ce gouvernement est le meilleur, qui gouverne le moins »; et j'aimerais la voir réaliser plus vite et plus systématiquement, - ce qui aboutit à ceci, à quoi je souscris également : « Ce gouvernement est le meilleur, qui ne gouverne pas du tout »; et quand l'éducation des hommes sera faite, ce sera là le genre de gouvernement qu'ils auront. Un gouvernement peut tout au plus prétendre à être opportun; mais la plupart sont ordinairement inopportuns, et tous le sont quelquefois.
Dans un Etat populaire, quand la majorité détient le pouvoir, ce n'est pas qu'elle soit plus probablement dans le vrai que la minorité, ni que son pouvoir semble à celle-ci équitable, c’est qu'elle est matériellement la plus forte. Mais un gouvernement dans lequel la majorité règle tout ne peut être basé sur la justice. Le citoyen doit-il, fût-ce un moment et si peu que ce soit, sacrifier sa conscience au législateur ? Je pense que nous devons être d'abord des hommes, et seulement ensuite des citoyens. Il est inadmissible de confondre le respect de la loi avec le respect du juste. La seule obligation que j'aie à assumer est de faire ce que je crois bien. On a assez dit qu'une communauté n'a point de conscience, mais une communauté d'hommes consciencieux est une communauté avec une conscience. Jamais la loi ne rendit le moins du monde les hommes plus justes; et souvent les bien intentionnés deviennent, de par leur respect pour elle, les agents de l'injustice. Comme illustration au respect abusif de la loi, voici une colonne de soldats, colonel, capitaines, caporaux, singes à poudre. Tous marchent dans un ordre admirable par monts et par vaux, contre leur volonté, en dépit du bon sens et malgré leur conscience, vers les guerres. Ils savent que c'est là une besogne damnable et tous s'inclinent. Que sont-ils? des hommes? ou des petits forts, des arsenaux ambulants au service de quelque gaillard sans scrupule qui détient le pouvoir? Visitez le Navy-Yard, et considérez un marin, un homme tel que le gouvernement américain peut en faire, ou cette chose qu’il peut faire d'un homme avec sa magie noire : c'est une ombre, une réminiscence d'humanité, un être consumé vivant et debout, et enterré sous les armes, avec accompagnements funéraires. (…)
La masse des hommes servent l'Etat non comme des hommes, mais comme des machines, avec leurs corps. Ils sont l'armée permanente, et la milice, et les geôliers, et les constables, la force publique. Il n'y a plus ici exercice libre du jugement ou du sens moral. Peut-être pourrait-on en fabriquer qui fonctionneraient aussi bien. Ces hommes-là s'élèvent à la dignité d'un épouvantail en torchis ou d'un tas de boue. Cependant de tels hommes sont généralement considérés comme de bons citoyens. D'autres, - comme les législateurs, les politiciens, les hommes de loi, les ministres, les fonctionnaires, - mettent, eux, leur intelligence au service de l'Etat, et comme il est rare qu'ils soient capables de faire quelque distinction morale, ils sont bien aussi propres à servir le diable qu'à servir Dieu. Un très petit nombre, tels les héros, les patriotes, les martyrs, les réformateurs, dans le grand sens du mot, et les hommes, servent aussi l'Etat, mais avec leurs consciences. Nécessairement ils résistent : et l'Etat les traite en ennemis. Un sage voudra être utilisé comme homme; il ne consentira pas à être de « l'argile » avec quoi « boucher un trou pour arrêter le vent ». Il laisse cet office à ses cendres.
Je suis d'une naissance trop haute pour appartenir à quelqu'un,
Pour être soumis à un contrôle
Ou pour être l'utile serviteur et l'instrument
De n'importe quel maître au monde.
Tous les hommes admettent le droit à la révolution, c'est-à-dire le droit de refuser obéissance et de résister au gouvernement quand sa tyrannie ou son incapacité passent les limites. Presque tous disent que tel n'est pas le cas aujourd'hui, - mais ils pensent que tel était le cas lors de la révolution de 1775. On me dit que le gouvernement ne valait rien à cette époque, parce qu'il imposait certaines denrées étrangères amenées dans les ports. Il est plus que probable que cela m'eût laissé indifférent, car je puis me passer de ces denrées. (…) Mais quand, dans un pays qui a la prétention d'être le refuge de la liberté, le sixième de la population est composé d'esclaves, quand toute une contrée est injustement envahie (1), conquise par une armée étrangère, et soumise à la loi martiale, je crois qu'il n'est pas trop tôt pour que les honnêtes gens se rebellent et fassent une révolution. (…)
Nous disons que la masse des hommes n'est pas préparée. Mais le progrès est lent, parce que ceux qui forment le petit nombre ne sont ni plus sages ni meilleurs que le grand nombre. Ce qui importe n'est pas que beaucoup soient bons, mais qu'il y ait, là ou là, quelque vertu effective, parce que c'est ce qui fera lever toute la masse. Il y a des milliers d'hommes opposés, en principe, à l'esclavage et à la guerre et qui cependant ne font rien pour y mettre fin, qui, suffisamment fiers d'être les enfants de Washington et de Franklin, restent assis sur leur derrière, les mains dans les poches, disent qu'ils ne savent que faire et ne font rien, qui même placent la question de liberté après la question de commerce, et tranquillement lisent les prix courants tout au long, en même temps que les derniers avis de Mexico, après dîner, et peut-être s'endorment dessus. Quel est aujourd'hui le prix courant d'un honnête homme, d'un patriote ? Ils hésitent, ils regrettent, quelquefois même ils pétitionnent ! Mais en réalité ils ne font rien qui produise un résultat. Ils attendront, tout disposés du reste à les applaudir, que d'autres remédient au mal, afin de n'avoir pas à déplorer plus longtemps son existence. Tout au plus accordent-ils un vote bon marché, un petit encouragement et un « Dieu te bénisse » au bon droit quand il passe à portée. Il y a 999 patrons de la vertu pour un homme vertueux. Mais il est plus facile de traiter avec le possesseur réel d'une chose qu'avec son gardien temporaire.
Tout vote est une sorte de jeu, comme les échecs ou le trictrac, avec une légère teinte morale; on joue le bien et le mal, et il y a un betting. Le caractère des votants n'est pas en cause. Je jette mon vote, admettons-le, comme je crois juste; mais il n'y a pas là pour moi de question vitale. Volontiers je m'incline devant la majorité. Voter pour ce qui est bien et ne rien faire pour le bien, c'est simplement exprimer, et d'une façon si timide, votre désir de justice. Un sage ne laissera pas le droit à la merci de la chance, pas plus qu'il ne souhaitera le voir triompher de par la majorité. Il n'y a que petite vertu dans l'oeuvre des masses. Quand la majorité votera l'abolition de l'esclavage, c'est qu'elle sera indifférente à l'esclavage, ou que, en fait, l'esclavage sera déjà aboli. Ils seront alors les seuls esclaves. (…)
(…) Oh ! un homme qui soit un homme et, comme le dit mon voisin, ait dans le dos un os au travers duquel on ne puisse passer la main ! Vos statistiques sont inexactes : la population a été évaluée trop haut. Combien d'hommes y a-t-il dans ce pays par mille milles carrés ? à peine un. L'Amérique n'offre-t-elle donc pas quelque prime qui engagerait des hommes à s'établir sur son territoire ? L'Américain est dégénéré en un drôle de corps reconnaissable à sa manie de vivre en troupe. (…)
Ce n'est pas un devoir, une chose toute naturelle, que de se dévouer à la destruction de telles et telles injustices, fussent-elles des plus scandaleuses : un homme peut fort bien être absorbé par d'autres soins. Mais au moins est-il de son devoir de s'en laver les mains et de ne pas donner en pratique son appui à l'injustice. (…) Voyez quelle contradiction énorme entre les idées et les actes. J'ai entendu de mes concitoyens dire : Je voudrais voir qu'ils m'ordonnassent d'aider à écraser l'insurrection des esclaves, ou de marcher sur Mexico; vous verriez si j'irais ! Et cependant chacun d'eux a fourni un remplaçant. (…)
(…) Ceux qui, tout en désapprouvant le caractère et les actes d'un gouvernement, lui accordent leur allégeance, sont indubitablement ses soutiens les plus sûrs et les obstacles les plus sérieux aux réformes. Certains pétitionnent à l'Etat pour dissoudre l'Union. Pourquoi ne rompent-ils pas eux-mêmes leur union avec l'Etat ? Pourquoi ne refusent-ils pas de payer leur quote-part au trésor ? Ne sont-ils point par rapport à l'Etat dans une situation semblable à celle où l'Etat se trouve par rapport à l'Union ? Et les raisons qui ont empêché l'Etat de résister à l'Union sont tout simplement celles qui les empêchent, eux, de résister à l'Etat.
Comment un homme peut-il se contenter de concevoir une opinion, simplement, et de s'y complaire? Y a-t-il une jouissance à savoir qu'on est lésé ? Si vous êtes volé d'un seul dollar par votre voisin, il ne vous suffit pas de savoir que vous êtes volé, ni de dire que vous êtes volé, ni de l'obliger à avouer le vol : immédiatement vous faites le nécessaire pour lui faire rendre gorge, puis vous prenez des mesures pour l'empêcher de recommencer. (…)
Il y a des lois injustes. Leur obéirons-nous bénévolement, ou travaillerons-nous à les réformer ? Obéirons-nous à ces lois jusqu'à ce qu'elles soient modifiées, ou les enfreindrons-nous tout de suite? Généralement les gens pensent qu'ils doivent attendre d'avoir persuadé à la majorité de modifier les lois. Ils pensent que, s'ils résistaient, le remède serait pire que le mal. Mais si le remède est pire que le mal, la faute en est au gouvernement lui-même. C'est lui qui le fait pire. Pourquoi n'est-il pas plus apte à présenter les réformes et à y pourvoir ? Pourquoi n'écoute-t-il passa sage minorité? Pourquoi crie-t-il et résiste-t-il avant d’être blessé ? Pourquoi n'encourage-t-il pas les citoyens à signaler ses fautes, pourquoi ne fait-il pas mieux qu'ils ne feraient eux-mêmes? (…)
Une fois l'an, pas plus, je rencontre face à face le gouvernement américain ou son représentant, le gouvernement de l'Etat, en la personne du percepteur d'impôts. C'est le seul mode selon lequel un homme dans ma situation soit forcément en rapports avec lui. Par la voix de ce fonctionnaire, il dit alors distinctement : Reconnais-moi. Et la façon la plus simple, la plus effective et, dans l'état présent des affaires, la meilleure de lui exprimer votre peu de satisfaction et votre mince amour est de refuser de le reconnaître à ce moment là. Mon voisin le percepteur d'impôts est justement l'homme avec lequel j'ai à traiter, - car c'est après tout avec des hommes que je me querelle, non avec des parchemins, - et il a, lui, volontairement choisi d'être un agent du gouvernement. Comment saura-t-il jamais ce qu'il est et ce qu'il fait comme fonctionnaire du gouvernement, ou comme homme, avant qu'il soit obligé de se demander comment il me traitera, moi, son voisin pour lequel il a de la considération : comme un voisin et un homme sociable, ou comme un maniaque et un perturbateur de la paix ? (…)
Sous un gouvernement qui emprisonne injustement, la vraie place d'un homme juste est la prison. C'est la vraie place aujourd'hui, la seule que l'Etat des Massachusetts ait préparée pour ses esprits les plus libres, afin qu'ils soient écartés, mis hors l'Etat par l'Etat lui-même, comme ils se sont mis eux-mêmes hors l'Etat par leurs principes. C'est là que les trouveraient l'esclave fugitif, le mexicain prisonnier sur parole, l'indien qui vient plaider pour sa race, oui, là, sur ce terrain écarté, mais plus libre et mieux fréquenté, où l'Etat envoie ceux qui ne sont pas avec lui, mais contre lui, en cette seule maison, où, dans un Etat d'esclaves, un homme libre puisse résider avec honneur. Si certains pensent que leur influence se perdra là, que leur voix n'atteindra plus l'oreille de l'Etat, qu'ils ne seront pas là tels que des belligérants derrière les murs de leur ville, c'est qu'ils ne savent pas combien la vérité est plus forte que l'erreur, ni combien plus éloquemment et plus efficacement peut combattre l'injustice celui qui a payé un peu de sa propre personne. Que votre volonté ne se manifeste pas uniquement par le dépôt d'un morceau de papier dans une urne. Une minorité n'est impuissante qu'aussi longtemps qu'elle se conforme à la majorité; alors elle n'est même pas une minorité. Mais elle est irrésistible quand elle pèse de tout son poids. Si l'Etat se trouve dans cette alternative : garder en prison tous les hommes justes, ou renoncer à la guerre et à l'esclavage, il n'hésitera pas dans son choix. Si un millier d'hommes refusaient de payer l'impôt cette année, ce ne serait pas là une mesure violente ni sanguinaire, comme c'est une de les payer et de mettre ainsi l'Etat à même de commettre une violence et de verser le sang innocent. En fait cela constituerait une révolution pacifique, si ces termes sont conciliables. Si le percepteur de taxes ou quelque autre fonctionnaire, sur mon refus de payer l'impôt me demande - comme l'un d'eux me l'a demandé : Que dois-je faire ? voici ma réponse : Si réellement vous désirez faire quelque chose, résignez vos fonctions ! - Quand le sujet a refusé obéissance et que le fonctionnaire a résigné ses fonctions, la révolution est accomplie. Supposez même que le sang coule, n'y a-t-il pas une sorte de sang versé quand la conscience est blessée? Par cette blessure la virilité réelle et l'immortalité de l'homme s'écoulent, et elle saigne jusqu'à une mort éternelle. Ce sang-là, je le vois couler maintenant.
J'ai parlé d'emprisonnement plutôt que de la saisie des biens (…), parce que ceux qui sont les soutiens du droit le plus pur et par conséquent sont les plus dangereux pour un Etat corrompu n'ont généralement pas passé beaucoup de temps à accumuler des richesses. A de tels, l'Etat rend comparativement peu de services, et une faible taxe leur paraît souvent exorbitante, surtout si c'est par un travail supplémentaire qu'ils sont obligés d'acquérir de quoi la payer. Si un homme vivait entièrement sans argent, l'Etat lui-même hésiterait à lui en réclamer. Mais le riche, sans faire aucune allusion personnelle, est toujours vendu à l'institution qui le fait riche. Et nous pouvons dire d'une manière absolue : plus d'argent moins de vertu. (…) L'accroissement des moyens de vivre est proportionnel à la diminution de l'opportunité de vivre. (…)
Quand je parle aux plus indépendants de mes voisins, je m'aperçois, quoi qu'ils disent d'ailleurs, qu'ils ne savent pas se passer du gouvernement, qu'ils craignent pour leurs biens et leurs familles les conséquences d'une désobéissance. Pour ma part, je n'aimerais pas sentir que je ne puisse me passer de la protection de l'Etat. Si je dénie l'autorité de l'Etat en refusant de payer l'impôt, il s'emparera de mes biens, nous ruinera et nous accablera, mes enfants et moi. Cela est dur et fait qu'il est impossible, en apparence, de vivre à la fois honnêtement et confortablement. Si l'on était certain de perdre ses biens, ce ne serait pas la peine de les accumuler : il faut donc payer, - ou se blottir quelque part et ne faire lever qu'une faible récolte, et la manger rapidement. Il faut vivre en soi-même, ne dépendre que de soi, être prêt à tout événement et n'être pas surchargé d'affaires. Un homme peut s'enrichir, même en Turquie, s'il veut être un bon sujet du gouvernement turc. Confucius dit : « Si un Etat est gouverné selon les principes de la raison, la pauvreté et la misère sont sujets de honte; si un Etat ne se conforme pas à ces principes, les richesses et les honneurs sont des sujets de honte. » (…) Il m’en coûte moins, de tonte façon, d'encourir les pénalités qui frappent la désobéissance qu’il ne m'en coûterait d'obéir. Il me semblerait que je vaux moins.
Il y a quelques années, l'Etat m'ordonna de payer une certaine somme pour soutenir un pasteur, au prêche duquel mon père assistait, moi, non. Payez, disait-il, ou vous serez mis en prison. Je refusai de payer. Malheureusement quelqu'un paya. Je ne comprenais pas que le maître d'école dût payer un impôt pour entretenir le prêtre, et non le prêtre, le maître d'école; je n'étais pas instituteur de l'Etat, et vivais de souscriptions volontaires. A la requête qui m'en fut faite, je déclarai ce qui suit : « Que tous sachent, par ces présentes, que moi, Henry Thoreau, je ne désire pas être considéré comme membre d'une société constituée quelconque », et je remis cette déclaration au commis de la ville. L'Etat ayant appris ainsi que je ne désirais pas être membre de l'Eglise en question ne m'a pas inquiété à ce sujet depuis lors. Si j'avais su comment les appeler, j'aurais retiré alors mon adhésion, en détail, à toutes les sociétés auxquelles je n'ai jamais accordé ma signature, mais j'ignorais où en trouver la liste complète.
Pendant six ans, je n'ai pas payé l'impôt de capitation. Je fus mis en prison pour ce fait, et y restai une nuit (2). Comme je considérais les murs de pierre, la porte de bois et de fer, et la grille de fer par où filtrait la lumière, je ne pus m'empêcher d'être frappé de la bêtise d'une société qui me traitait comme si j'étais fait uniquement de chair, de sang et d'os. Je m'étonnais qu'on eût conclu à la longue que ce fût là le meilleur moyen à employer envers moi, et qu'on n'eût jamais songé à demander mes services de quelque façon que ce fût. Je vis que s'il y avait une muraille de pierre entre mes concitoyens et moi, eux en avaient une autre bien plus rude encore à franchir ou à percer pour être aussi libre que j'étais. Je ne me sentis pas un moment enfermé; et ces murs me semblaient un grand gaspillage de pierre et de mortier. Je me sentais le seul de tous mes concitoyens qui eût acquitté la taxe. Eux, franchement, ne savaient comment me traiter. D'eux, tout, menace ou approbation, était une bévue, car ils croyaient que mon principal désir était de me trouver de l'autre côté de cette muraille de pierre. Je souriais de voir combien industrieusement ils fermaient la porte sur mes méditations, qui les suivaient quand même au dehors, sans obstacles - et ces méditations seules étaient dangereuses. (…) L'État m'apparut un pauvre idiot, je perdis tout ce qui me restait de respect pour lui, et je le plaignis.
Ainsi, jamais l'Etat n'attaque de front le sens intellectuel et moral d'un homme; il s'attaque uniquement à son corps. Il n'est pas armé d'une sagesse ni d'une honnêteté supérieure, mais d'une force physique supérieure. Je ne suis pas né pour être contraint. Je veux respirer à ma mode. Voyons qui est le plus fort. Quelle est la force de la multitude ? Seuls peuvent me faire plier ceux qui obéissent à une loi plus haute que moi. Ceux-là m'obligent à devenir comme eux. Je n'admets pas qu'il y ait des hommes forcés de vivre de telle ou telle façon par des masses d'hommes. Quelle vie serait-ce là à vivre? Quand je me trouve en présence d'un gouvernement qui me dit : « l'argent ou la vie. » pourquoi me hâterais-je de donner mon argent ? - je puis être dans une grande gêne, et ne savoir que faire. (…) Que le gouvernement s'aide lui-même, comme je fais. Ce n'est pas la peine de pleurnicher pour cela. Je ne suis pas responsable de la réussite du travail de la machine sociale : je ne suis pas le fils de l'ingénieur. (…)
Je n'ai pas refusé de payer la taxe des routes, parce que je suis aussi désireux d'être un bon voisin que je le suis d'être un mauvais citoyen, et, quant au fonctionnement des écoles, j'y contribue maintenant en éduquant mes compatriotes. Ce n'est pas pour tel ou tel article de l’impôt de capitation que je refuse de payer cet impôt. Je refuse obéissance à l'Etat pour m'éloigner de lui d'une façon effective. Je ne me soucie pas de suivre à la trace la course de mon dollar, le pourrais-je, jusqu'à ce qu'il achète un homme ou un mousquet; le dollar est innocent; mais je suis intéressé à suivre les effets de mon allégeance. En fait, je déclaré paisiblement la guerre à l'Etat, à ma façon, quoique d'ailleurs je veuille l'utiliser quand il peut m'être utile à quelque chose. (…)
(…) Dans de tels cas, que l'on se garde d'être esclave de son entêtement ou d'un souci exagéré des opinions des hommes. Il faut que chacun agisse selon soi-même et selon l'heure.
Je me dis quelquefois : (…) Quand des millions d'hommes, sans colère, sans mauvais vouloir, sans nul sentiment personnel d'aucune sorte, réclament de vous quelques shillings, sans la possibilité, telle est leur servitude, de renoncer à leur demande ou de la modifier et sans la possibilité de votre côté, d'un appel à d'autres millions d'individus, pourquoi vous exposer à cette écrasante force brute ? Vous ne vous insurgez pas contre le froid et la faim, contre le vent et les vagues; vous vous soumettez docilement à mille nécessités analogues. Vous ne mettez pas votre tête dans le feu. Soit. Mais la force contre quoi je lutte n'est pas strictement une force brute; elle est partiellement une force humaine; elle n'est pas formée de matière inanimée, mais d'hommes, et je vois que je puis faire appel, d'abord et instantanément, d'eux à leur maître, et, secondement, d'eux à eux-mêmes. Si je mets délibérément ma tête dans le feu, il n'y a pas d'appel possible au feu ou au maître du feu, et j'ai fait une sottise. (…) Et je n'ignore pas que je ne puis changer, comme Orphée, la nature des rochers, des arbres et des bêtes.
Je ne désire pas me quereller avec homme ou nation qui soit. Je ne désire pas fendre des cheveux, faire de subtiles distinctions ou supplanter mes voisins; bien plutôt, je cherche même, je puis dire, des défaites. Je suis trop disposé, presque, à me conformer aux lois du pays. En vérité, je suis sujet à caution, et, chaque année, quand le percepteur d'impôts rôde, je me sens enclin à revoir les actes et la situation du gouvernement général et du gouvernement des Massachusetts et l'état d'esprit du peuple, pour y découvrir prétexte à adhésion.
(…) Oui, la Constitution, avec toutes ses erreurs, est vraiment belle, la loi et les tribunaux sont bien respectables, cet Etat et ce gouvernement américain sont, à maints égards, d'admirables, rares et bienfaisantes choses, - comme force publicistes les ont décrits, d'un peu bas; mais, vus d'un peu plus haut, ils sont bien tels que je les ai décrits; et d'un point de vue plus élevé encore, qui dira qu'ils méritent seulement qu'on les regarde et qu'on y pense ?
Au surplus, le gouvernement m'importe assez peu, et je penserai à lui le moins possible. Ils sont rares les moments où je vis sous un gouvernement. Si un homme pense librement, aime librement et voit clair, ce qui n'est pas ne lui paraîtra pas longtemps être, et de bas législateurs ou réformateurs s'agiteront sans qu'il soit à leur merci.
L'autorité du gouvernement, même d'un gouvernement auquel je consentirais à me soumettre - car j'obéirais de bon coeur à ceux qui peuvent faire mieux que moi et, en maintes choses, même a ceux qui ne sauraient faire aussi bien - est impure : pour être strictement juste, elle doit avoir la sanction et le consentement des gouvernés. Il ne peut avoir de droit légitime sur ma personne et ma propriété que celui que je lui concède. Le passage d'une monarchie absolue à une monarchie constitutionnelle, et de celle-ci à une démocratie est intéressant parce qu'il constitue un progrès vers le respect de l'individu. Le philosophe chinois était assez sage pour considérer l'individu comme la base de l'empire. Une démocratie comme celle que nous connaissons est-elle le dernier progrès réalisable? N'est-il pas possible de faire un pas de plus vers la reconnaissance et le jeu des droits de l'individu? Il n'y aura jamais d'Etat réellement libre et harmonieux que l'Etat ne reconnaisse l'individu pour un pouvoir supérieur et autonome, duquel son propre pouvoir est issu et qui doit être traité en conséquence. Je me plais enfin à imaginer un Etat qui serait juste pour tous et traiterait l'individu avec respect, comme un voisin; qui même n'estimerait pas inadmissible que quelques hommes vivent absolument en dehors de lui, hors de la bienveillance de ses grands bras, tranquillement à l'écart. Un Etat qui porterait cette sorte de fruit, et consentirait à s'en aller peu à peu tandis que ce fruit mûrirait, préparerait l'avènement d'un Etat plus parfait et plus glorieux encore, que je n'ai vu nulle part, mais que j'imagine fort bien.
(1) Le Mexique, qui était en guerre avec les Etats-Unis.
(2) En 1847.
Source : La Revue blanche, tome 11, 2e semestre, 1896, p. 385-393.
L'article original est disponible sur le site Gallica (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Texte intégral en langue anglaise
On the Duty of Civil Disobedience
(1849, titre original : Resistance to Civil Goverment)
I heartily accept the motto, "That government is best which governs least"; and I should like to see it acted up to more rapidly and systematically. Carried out, it finally amounts to this, which also I believe—"That government is best which governs not at all"; and when men are prepared for it, that will be the kind of government which they will have. Government is at best but an expedient; but most governments are usually, and all governments are sometimes, inexpedient. The objections which have been brought against a standing army, and they are many and weighty, and deserve to prevail, may also at last be brought against a standing government. The standing army is only an arm of the standing government. The government itself, which is only the mode which the have chosen to execute their will, is equally liable to be abused and perverted before the 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 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 themselves. But it is not the less necessary for this; for the 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 has done all that has been accomplished; and it would have done somewhat more, if the government had not sometimes got in its way. For government is an expedient, by which men would fain succeed in letting one another alone; and, as has been said, when it is most expedient, the governed are most let alone by it. Trade and commerce, if they were not made of india-rubber, would never manage to bounce over obstacles which legislators are continually putting in their way; and if one were to judge these men wholly by the effects of their actions and not partly by their intentions, they would deserve to be classed and punished with those mischievious persons who put obstructions on the railroads.
But, to speak practically and as a citizen, unlike those who call themselves no-government men, I ask for, not at once no government, but at once a better government. Let every man make known what kind of government would command his respect, and that will be one step toward obtaining it.
After all, the practical reason why, when the power is once in the hands of the , a majority are permitted, and for a long period continue, to rule is not because they are most likely to be in the right, nor because this seems fairest to the minority, but because they are physically the strongest. But a government in which the majority rule in all cases can not be based on justice, even as far as men understand it. Can there not be a government in which the majorities do not virtually decide right and wrong, but conscience?—in which majorities decide only those questions to which the rule of expediency is applicable? Must the citizen ever for a moment, or in the least degree, resign his conscience to the legislator? Why has every man a conscience then? I think that we should be men first, and subjects afterward. It is not desirable to cultivate a respect for the law, so much as for the right. The only obligation which I have a right to assume is to do at any time what I think right. It is truly enough said that a corporation has no conscience; but a corporation of conscientious men is a corporation with a conscience. Law never made men a whit more just; and, by means of their respect for it, even the well-disposed are daily made the agents on injustice. A common and natural result of an undue respect for the law is, that you may see a file of soldiers, colonel, captain, corporal, privates, powder-monkeys, and all, marching in admirable order over hill and dale to the wars, against their wills, ay, against their common sense and consciences, which makes it very steep marching indeed, and produces a palpitation of the heart. They have no doubt that it is a damnable business in which they are concerned; they are all peaceably inclined. Now, what are they? Men at all? or small movable forts and magazines, at the service of some unscrupulous man in power? Visit the Navy Yard, and behold a marine, such a man as an American government can make, or such as it can make a man with its black arts—a mere shadow and reminiscence of humanity, a man laid out alive and standing, and already, as one may say, buried under arms with funeral accompaniment, though it may be,
"Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his 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 they rarely make any moral distinctions, they are as likely to serve the devil, without intending it, as God. A very few—as heroes, patriots, martyrs, reformers in the great sense, and men—serve the state with their consciences also, and so necessarily resist it for the most part; and they are commonly treated as enemies by it. A wise man will only be useful as a man, and will not submit to be "clay," and "stop a hole to keep the wind away," but leave that office to his dust at least:
"I am too high born to be propertied,
To be a second at control,
Or useful serving-man and instrument
To any sovereign state throughout the world."
He who gives himself entirely to his fellow men appears to them useless and selfish; but he who gives himself partially to them 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 is, so long as the established government cannot be resisted or changed without public inconvenience, it is the will of God . . . that the established government be obeyed—and no longer. This principle being admitted, the justice of every particular case of resistance is reduced to a computation of the quantity of the danger and grievance on the one side, and of the probability and expense of redressing it on the other." Of this, he says, every man shall judge for himself. But Paley appears never to have contemplated those cases to which the rule of expediency does not apply, in which a people, as well as an individual, must do justice, cost what it may. If I have unjustly wrested a plank from a drowning man, I must restore it to him though I drown myself. This, according to Paley, would be inconvenient. But he that would save his life, in such a case, shall lose it. This people must cease to hold slaves, and to make war on Mexico, though it cost them their existence as a people.
In their practice, nations agree with Paley; but does anyone think that Massachusetts does exactly what is right at the present crisis?
"A drab of stat,
a cloth-o'-silver slut,
To have her train borne up,
and her soul trail in the dirt."
Practically speaking, the opponents to a reform in Massachusetts are not a hundred thousand politicians at the South, but a hundred thousand merchants and farmers here, who are more interested in commerce and agriculture than they are in humanity, and are not prepared to do justice to the slave and to Mexico, cost what it may. I quarrel not with far-off foes, but with those who, near at home, co-operate with, and do the bidding of, those far away, and without whom the latter would be harmless. We are accustomed to say, that the mass of men are unprepared; but improvement is slow, because the few are not as materially wiser or better than the many. It is not so important that many should be good as you, as that there be some absolute goodness somewhere; for that will leaven the whole lump. There are thousands who are in opinion opposed to slavery and to the war, who yet in effect do nothing to put an end to them; who, esteeming themselves children of Washington and Franklin, sit down with their hands in their pockets, and say that they know not what to do, and do nothing; who even postpone the question of freedom to the question of free trade, and quietly read the prices-current along with the latest advices from Mexico, after dinner, and, it may be, fall asleep over them both. What is the price-current of an honest man and patriot today? They hesitate, and they regret, and sometimes they petition; but they do nothing in earnest and with effect. They will wait, well disposed, for 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, as my neighbor says, has a bone in his back which you cannot pass your hand through! Our statistics are at fault: the population has been returned too large. How many men are there to a square thousand miles in the country? Hardly one. Does not America offer any inducement for men to settle here? The American has dwindled into an Odd Fellow—one who may be known by the development of his organ of gregariousness, and a manifest lack of intellect and cheerful self-reliance; whose first and chief concern, on coming into the world, is to see that the almshouses are in good repair; and, before yet he has lawfully donned the virile garb, to collect a fund to the support of the widows and orphans that may be; who, in short, ventures to live only by the aid of the Mutual Insurance company, which has promised to bury him decently.
It is not a man's duty, as a matter of course, to devote himself to the eradication of any, even to most enormous wrong; he may still properly have other concerns to engage him; but it is his duty, at least, to wash his hands of it, and, if he gives it no thought longer, not to give it practically his support. If I devote myself to other pursuits and contemplations, I must first see, at least, that I do not pursue them sitting upon another man's shoulders. I must get off him first, that he may pursue his contemplations too. See what gross inconsistency is tolerated. I have heard some of my townsmen say, "I should like to have them order me out to help put down an insurrection of the slaves, or to march to Mexico—see if I would go"; and yet these very men have each, directly by their allegiance, and so indirectly, at least, by their money, furnished a substitute. The soldier is applauded who refuses to serve in an unjust war by those who do not refuse to sustain the unjust government which makes the war; is applauded by those whose own act and authority he disregards and sets at naught; as if the state were penitent to that degree that it hired one to scourge it while it sinned, but not to that degree that it left off sinning for a moment. Thus, under the name of Order and Civil Government, we are all made at last to pay homage to and support our own meanness. After the first blush of sin comes its indifference; and from immoral it becomes, as it were, unmoral, and not quite unnecessary to that life which we have made.
The broadest and most prevalent error requires the most disinterested virtue to sustain it. The slight reproach to which the virtue of patriotism is commonly liable, the noble are most likely to incur. Those who, while they disapprove of the character and measures of a government, yield to it their allegiance and support are undoubtedly its most conscientious supporters, and so frequently the most serious obstacles to reform. Some are petitioning the State to dissolve the Union, to disregard the requisitions of the President. Why do they not dissolve it themselves—the union between themselves and the State—and refuse to pay their quota into its treasury? Do not they stand in same relation to the State that the State does to the Union? And have not the same reasons prevented the State from resisting the Union which have prevented them from resisting the State?
How can a man be satisfied to entertain an opinion merely, and enjoy it? Is there any enjoyment in it, if his opinion is that he is aggrieved? If you are cheated out of a single dollar by your neighbor, you do not rest satisfied with knowing you are cheated, or with saying that you are cheated, or even with petitioning him to pay you your due; but you take effectual steps at once to obtain the full amount, and see to it that you are never cheated again. Action from principle, the perception and the performance of right, changes things and relations; it is essentially revolutionary, and does not consist wholly with anything which was. It not only divided States and churches, it divides families; ay, it divides the individual, separating the diabolical in him from the divine.
Unjust laws exist: shall we be content to obey them, or shall we endeavor to amend them, and obey them until we have succeeded, or shall we transgress them at once? Men, generally, under such a government as this, think that they ought to wait until they have persuaded the majority to alter them. They think that, if they should resist, the remedy would be worse than the evil. But it is the fault of the government itself that the remedy is worse than the evil. It makes it worse. Why is it not more apt to anticipate and provide for reform? Why does it not cherish its wise minority? Why does it cry and resist before it is hurt? Why does it not encourage its citizens to put out its faults, and do better than it would have them? Why does it always crucify Christ and excommunicate Copernicus and Luther, and pronounce Washington and Franklin rebels?
One would think, that a deliberate and practical denial of its authority was the only offense never contemplated by its government; else, why has it not assigned its definite, its suitable and proportionate, penalty? If a man who has no property refuses but once to earn nine shillings for the State, he is put in prison for a period unlimited by any law that I know, and determined only by the discretion of those who put him there; but if he should steal ninety times nine shillings from the State, he is soon permitted to go at large again.
If the injustice is part of the necessary friction of the machine of government, let it go, let it go: perchance it will wear smooth—certainly the machine will wear out. If the injustice has a spring, or a pulley, or a rope, or a crank, exclusively for itself, then perhaps you may consider whether the remedy will not be worse than the evil; but if it is of such a nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another, then I say, break the law. Let your life be a counter-friction to stop the machine. What I have to do is to see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself to the wrong which I condemn.
As for adopting the ways 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 doing something wrong. It is not my business to be petitioning the Governor or the Legislature any more than it is theirs to petition me; and if they should not hear my petition, what should I do then? But in this case the State has provided no way: its very Constitution is the evil. This may seem to be harsh and stubborn and unconcilliatory; but it is to treat with the utmost kindness and consideration the only spirit that can appreciate or deserves it. So is all change for the better, like birth and death, which convulse the body.
I do not hesitate to say, that those who call themselves Abolitionists should at once effectually withdraw their support, both in person and property, from the government of Massachusetts, and not wait till they constitute a majority of one, before they suffer the right to prevail through them. I think that it is enough if they have God on their side, without waiting for that other one. Moreover, any man more right than his neighbors constitutes a majority of one already.
I meet this American government, or its representative, the State government, directly, and face to face, once a year—no more—in the person of its tax-gatherer; this is the only mode in which a man situated as I am necessarily meets it; and it then says distinctly, Recognize me; and the simplest, the most effectual, and, in the present posture of affairs, the indispensablest mode of treating with it on this head, of expressing your little satisfaction with and love for it, is to deny it then. My civil neighbor, the tax-gatherer, is the very man I have to deal with—for it is, after all, with men and not with parchment that I quarrel—and he has voluntarily chosen to be an agent of the government. How shall he ever know well that he is and does as an officer of the government, or as a man, until he is obliged to consider whether he will treat me, his neighbor, for whom he has respect, as a neighbor and well-disposed man, or as a maniac and disturber of the peace, and see if he can get over this obstruction to his 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 should flow. Is there not a sort of blood shed when the conscience is wounded? Through this wound a man's real manhood and immortality flow out, and he bleeds to an everlasting death. I see this blood flowing now.
I have contemplated the imprisonment of the offender, rather than the seizure of his goods—though both will serve the same purpose—because they who assert the purest right, and consequently are most dangerous to a corrupt State, commonly have not spent much time in accumulating property. To such the State renders comparatively small service, and a slight tax is wont to appear exorbitant, particularly if they are obliged to earn it by special labor with their hands. If there were one who lived wholly without the use of money, the State itself would hesitate to demand it of him. But the rich man—not to make any invidious comparison—is always sold to the institution which makes him rich. Absolutely speaking, the more money, the less virtue; for money comes between a man and his objects, and obtains them for him; it was certainly no great virtue to obtain it. It puts to rest many questions which he would otherwise be taxed to answer; while the only new question which it puts is the hard but superfluous one, how to spend it. Thus his moral ground is taken from under his feet. The opportunities of living are diminished in proportion as that are called the "means" are increased. The best thing a man can do for his culture when he is rich is to endeavor to carry out those schemes which he entertained when he was poor. Christ answered the Herodians according to their condition. "Show me the tribute-money," said he—and one took a penny out of his pocket—if you use money which has the image of Caesar on it, and which he has made current and valuable, that is, if you are men of the State, and gladly enjoy the advantages of Caesar's government, then pay him back some of his own when he demands it. "Render therefore to Caesar that which is Caesar's and to God those things which are God's"—leaving them no wiser than before as to which was which; for they did not wish to know.
When I converse with the freest of my neighbors, I perceive that, whatever they may say about the magnitude and seriousness of the question, and their regard for the public tranquillity, the long and the short of the matter is, that they cannot spare the protection of the existing government, and they dread the consequences to their property and families of disobedience to it. For my own part, I should not like to think that I ever rely on the protection of the State. But, if I deny the authority of the State when it presents its tax bill, it will soon take and waste all my property, and so harass me and my children without end. This is hard. This makes it impossible for a man to live honestly, and at the same time comfortably, in outward respects. It will not be worth the while to accumulate property; that would be sure to go again. You must hire or squat somewhere, and raise but a small crop, and eat that soon. You must live within yourself, and depend upon yourself always tucked up and ready for a start, and not have many affairs. A man may grow rich in Turkey even, if he will be in all respects a good subject of the Turkish government. Confucius said: "If a state is governed by the principles of reason, poverty and misery are subjects of shame; if a state is not governed by the principles of reason, riches and honors are subjects of shame." No: until I want the protection of Massachusetts to be extended to me in some distant Southern port, where my liberty is endangered, or until I am bent solely on building up an estate at home by peaceful enterprise, I can afford to refuse allegiance to Massachusetts, and her right to my property and life. It costs me less in every sense to incur the penalty of disobedience to the State than it would to obey. I should feel as if I were worth less in that case.
Some years ago, the State met me in behalf of the Church, and commanded me to pay a certain sum toward the support of a clergyman whose preaching my father attended, but never I myself. "Pay," it said, "or be locked up in the jail." I declined to pay. But, unfortunately, another man saw fit to pay it. I did not see why the schoolmaster should be taxed to support the priest, and not the priest the schoolmaster; for I was not the State's schoolmaster, but I supported myself by voluntary subscription. I did not see why the lyceum should not present its tax bill, and have the State to back its demand, as well as the Church. However, at the request of the selectmen, I condescended to make some such statement as this in writing: "Know all men by these presents, that I, Henry Thoreau, do not wish to be regarded as a member of any incorporated society which I have not joined." This I gave to the town clerk; and he has it. The State, having thus learned that I did not wish to be regarded as a member of that church, has never made a like demand on me since; though it said that it must adhere to its original presumption that time. If I had known how to name them, I should then have signed off in detail from all the societies which I never signed on to; but I did not know where to find such a complete list.
I have paid no poll tax for six years. I was put into a jail once on this account, for one night; and, as I stood considering the walls of solid stone, two or three feet thick, the door of wood and iron, a foot thick, and the iron grating which strained the light, I could not help being struck with the foolishness of that institution which treated me as if I were mere flesh and blood and bones, to be locked up. I wondered that it should have concluded at length that this was the best use it could put me to, and had never thought to avail itself of my services in some way. I saw that, if there was a wall of stone between me and my townsmen, there was a still more difficult one to climb or break through before they could get to be as free as I was. I did 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 wit or honesty, but with superior physical strength. I was not born to be forced. I will breathe after my own fashion. Let us see who is the strongest. What force has a multitude? They only can force me who obey a higher law than I. They force me to become like themselves. I do not hear of men being forced to live this way or that by masses of men. What sort of life were that to live? When I meet a government which says to me, "Your money or your life," why should I be in haste to give it my money? It may be in a great strait, and not know what to do: I cannot help that. It must help itself; do as I do. It is not worth the while to snivel about it. I am not responsible for the successful working of the machinery of society. I am not the son of the engineer. I perceive that, when an acorn and a chestnut fall side by side, the one does not remain inert to make way for the other, but both obey their own laws, and spring and grow and flourish as best they can, till one, perchance, overshadows and destroys the other. If a plant cannot live according to nature, it dies; and so a man.
The night in prison was novel and interesting enough. The prisoners in their shirtsleeves were enjoying a chat and the evening air in the doorway, when I entered. But the jailer said, "Come, boys, it is time to lock up"; and so they dispersed, and I heard the sound of their steps returning into the hollow apartments. My room-mate was introduced to me by the jailer as "a first-rate fellow and clever man." When the door was locked, he showed me where to hang my hat, and how he managed matters there. The rooms were whitewashed once a month; and this one, at least, was the whitest, most simply furnished, and probably neatest apartment in town. He naturally wanted to know where I came from, and what brought me there; and, when I had told him, I asked him in my turn how he came there, presuming him to be an honest man, of course; and as the world goes, I believe he was. "Why," said he, "they accuse me of burning a barn; but I never did it." As near as I could discover, he had probably gone to bed in a barn when drunk, and smoked his pipe there; and so a barn was burnt. He had the reputation of being a clever man, had been there some three months waiting for his trial to come on, and would have to wait as much longer; but he was quite domesticated and contented, since he got his board for nothing, and thought that he was well treated.
He occupied one window, and I the other; and I saw that if one stayed there long, his principal business would be to look out the window. I had soon read all the tracts that were left there, and examined where former prisoners had broken out, and where a grate had been sawed off, and heard the history of the various occupants of that room; for I found that even there there was a history and a gossip which never circulated beyond the walls of the jail. Probably this is the only house in the town where verses are composed, which are afterward printed in a circular form, but not published. I was shown quite a long list of young men who had been detected in an attempt to escape, who avenged themselves by singing them.
I pumped my fellow-prisoner as dry as I could, for fear I should never see him again; but at length he showed me which was my bed, and left me to blow out the lamp.
It was like travelling into a far country, such as I had never expected to behold, to lie there for one night. It seemed to me that I never had heard the town clock strike before, 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 though useless path from time to time, to save their souls. This may be to judge my neighbors harshly; for I believe that many of them are not aware that they have such an institution as the jail in their village.
It was formerly the custom in our village, when a poor debtor came out of jail, for his acquaintances to salute him, looking through their fingers, which were crossed to represent the jail window, "How do ye do?" My neighbors did not thus salute me, but first looked at me, and then at one another, as if I had returned from a long journey. I was put into jail as I was going to the shoemaker's to get a shoe which was mended. When I was let out the next morning, I proceeded to finish my errand, and, having put on my mended shoe, joined a huckleberry party, who were impatient to put themselves under my conduct; and in half an hour—for the horse was soon tackled—was in the midst of a huckleberry field, on one of our highest hills, two miles off, and then the State was nowhere to be seen.
This is the whole history of "My Prisons."
I have never declined paying the highway tax, because I am as desirous of being a good neighbor as I am of being a bad subject; and as for supporting schools, I am doing my part to educate my fellow countrymen now. It is for no particular item in the tax bill that I refuse to pay it. I simply wish to refuse allegiance to the State, to withdraw and stand aloof from it effectually. I do not care to trace the course of my dollar, if I could, till it buys a man or a musket to shoot one with—the dollar is innocent—but I am concerned to trace the effects of my allegiance. In fact, I quietly declare war with the State, after my fashion, though I will still make use and get what advantages of her I can, as is usual in such cases.
If others pay the tax which is demanded of me, from a sympathy with the State, they do but what they have already done in their own case, or rather they abet injustice to a greater extent than the State requires. If they pay the tax from a mistaken interest in the individual taxed, to save his property, or prevent his going to jail, it is because they have not considered wisely how far they let their private feelings interfere with the public good.
This, then, is my position at present. But one cannot be too much on his guard in such a case, lest his actions be biased by obstinacy or an undue regard for the opinions of men. Let him see that he does only what belongs to himself and to the hour.
I think sometimes, Why, this people mean well, they are only ignorant; they would do better if they knew how: why give your neighbors this pain to treat you as they are not inclined to? But I think again, This is no reason why I should do as they do, or permit others to suffer much greater pain of a different kind. Again, I sometimes say to myself, When many millions of men, without heat, without ill will, without personal feelings of any kind, demand of you a few shillings only, without the possibility, such is their constitution, of retracting or altering their present demand, and without the possibility, on your side, of appeal to any other millions, why expose yourself to this overwhelming brute force? You do not resist cold and hunger, the winds and the waves, thus obstinately; you quietly submit to a thousand similar necessities. You do not put your head into the fire. But just in proportion as I regard this as not wholly a brute force, but partly a human force, and consider that I have relations to those millions as to so many millions of men, and not of mere brute or inanimate things, I see that appeal is possible, first and instantaneously, from them to the Maker of them, and, secondly, from them to themselves. But if I put my head deliberately into the fire, there is no appeal to fire or to the Maker of fire, and I have only myself to blame. If I could convince myself that I have any right to be satisfied with men as they are, and to treat them accordingly, and not according, in some respects, to my requisitions and expectations of what they and I ought to be, then, like a good Mussulman and fatalist, I should endeavor to be satisfied with things as they are, and say it is the will of God. And, above all, there is this difference between resisting this and a purely brute or natural force, that I can resist this with some effect; but I cannot expect, like Orpheus, to change the nature of the rocks and trees and beasts.
I do not wish to quarrel with any man or nation. I do not wish to split hairs, to make fine distinctions, or set myself up as better than my neighbors. I seek rather, I may say, even an excuse for conforming to the laws of the land. I am but too ready to conform to them. Indeed, I have reason to suspect myself on this head; and each year, as the tax-gatherer comes round, I find myself disposed to review the acts and position of the general and State governments, and the spirit of the people to discover a pretext for conformity.
"We must affect our country as our parents,
And if at any time we alienate
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 time, he never once glances at the subject. I know of those whose serene and wise speculations on this theme would soon reveal the limits of his mind's range and hospitality. Yet, compared with the cheap professions of most reformers, and the still cheaper wisdom 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 freedom, of union, and of rectitude, to a nation. They have no genius or talent for comparatively humble questions of taxation and finance, commerce and manufactures and agriculture. If we were left solely to the wordy wit of legislators in Congress for our guidance, uncorrected by the seasonable experience and the effectual complaints of the people, America would not long retain her rank among the nations. For eighteen hundred years, though perchance I have no right to say it, the New Testament has been written; yet where is the legislator who has wisdom and practical talent enough to avail himself of the light which it sheds on the science of legislation.
The authority of government, even such as I am willing to submit to—for I will cheerfully obey those who know and can do better than I, and in many things even those who neither know nor can do so well — is still an impure one: to be strictly just, it must have the sanction and consent of the governed. It can have no pure right over my person and property but what I concede to it. The progress from an absolute to a limited monarchy, from a limited monarchy to a democracy, is a progress toward a true respect for the individual. Even the Chinese philosopher was wise enough to regard the individual as the basis of the empire. Is a democracy, such as we know it, the last improvement possible in government? Is it not possible to take a step further towards recognizing and organizing the rights of man? There will never be a really free and enlightened State until the State comes to recognize the individual as a higher and independent power, from which all its own power and authority are derived, and treats him accordingly. I please myself with imagining a State at last which can afford to be just to all men, and to treat the individual with respect as a neighbor; which even would not think it inconsistent with its own repose if a few were to live aloof from it, not meddling with it, nor embraced by it, who fulfilled all the duties of neighbors and fellow men. A State which bore this kind of fruit, and suffered it to drop off as fast as it ripened, would prepare the way for a still more perfect and glorious State, which I have also imagined, but not yet anywhere seen.