["Life Without
Principle" was first published post-
humously in the Atlantic
Monthly in 1863. The en
tire essay follows.}
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
AT A lyceum, not long
since, I felt that the lecturer had chosen
a theme too foreign to
himself, and so failed to interest me
as much as he might have
done. He described things not in or
near to his heart, but
toward his extremities and superficies.
There was, in this
sense, no truly central or centralizing
thought in the lecture.
I would have had him deal with his
privatest experience, as
the poet does. The greatest compli-
ment that was ever paid
me was when one asked me what
I thought, and attended
to my answer. I am surprised, as
well as delighted, when
this happens, it is such a rare use he
would make of me, as if
he were acquainted with the tool.
Commonly, if men want
anything of me, it is only to know
how many acres I make of
their land, since I am a surveyor
or, at most, what
trivial news I have burdened myself with.
They never will go to
law for my meat ; they prefer the shell.
A man once came a
considerable distance to ask me to lecture
on Slavery; but on
conversing with him, I found that he and
his clique expected
seven eighths of the lecture to be theirs,
and only one eighth
mine; so I declined. I take it for granted,
when I am invited to
lecture anywhere, for I have had a
little experience in
that business, that there is a desire to
hear what / think on
some subject, though I may be the great-
est fool in the country,
and not that I should say pleasant
things merely, or such
as the audience will assent to; and I
resolve, accordingly,
that I will give them a strong dose of
myself. They have sent
for me, and engaged to pay for me,
and I am determined that
they shall have me, though I bore
them beyond all
precedent.
So now I would say
something similar to you, my readers-
711
712 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
Since you are my
readers, and I have not been much of a
traveler, I will not
talk about people a thousand miles off, but
come as near home as I
can. As the time is short, I will leave
out all the flattery,
and retain all the criticism.
Let us consider the way
in which we spend our lives.
This world is a place of
business. What an infinite bustle!
f am awaked almost every
night by the panting of the locomo-
tive. It interrupts my
dreams. There is no sabbath. It would
be glorious to see
mankind at leisure for once. It is nothing
but work, work, work. I cannot
easily buy a blank-book to
write thoughts in; they
are commonly ruled for dollars and
cents. An Irishman,
seeing me making a minute in the fields,
took it for granted that
I was calculating my wages. If a man
was tossed out of a
window when an infant, and so made a
cripple for life, or
scared out of his wits by the Indians, it
is regretted chiefly
because he was thus incapacitated for
business! I think that
there is nothing, not even crime, more
opposed to poetry, to
philosophy, ay, to life itself, than this
incessant business.
There is a coarse and
boisterous money-making fellow in
the outskirts of our
town, who is going to build a bank-wall
under the hill along the
edge of his meadow. The powers have
put this into his head
to keep him out of mischief, and he
wishes me to spend three
weeks digging there with him. The
result will be that he
will perhaps get some more money to
hoard, and leave for his
heirs to spend foolishly. If I do
this, most will commend
me as an industrious and hard-
working man; but if I
choose to devote myself to certain
labors which yield more
real profit, though but little money,
they may be inclined to look
on me as an idler. Nevertheless,
as I do not need the
police of meaningless labor to regulate
me, and do not see
anything absolutely praiseworthy in this
fellow's undertaking any
more than in many an enterprise
of our own or foreign
governments, however amusing it may
be to him or them, I
prefer to finish my education at a differ-
ent school.
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
713
day, he is in danger of being regarded as a loafer ; but if he
spends his whole day as a speculator, shearing off those woods
and making earth bald before her time, he is esteemed an
industrious and enterprising citizen. As if a town had no
interest in its forests but to cut them down !
Most men would feel
insulted if it were proposed to em-
ploy them in throwing
stones over a wall, and then in throw-
ing them back, merely
that they might earn their wages. But
many are no more
worthily employed now. For instance: just
after sunrise, one
summer morning, I noticed one of my
neighbors walking beside
his team, which was slowly drawing
a heavy hewn stone swung
under the axle, surrounded by
an atmosphere of
industry, his day's work begun, his brow
commenced to sweat, a
reproach to all sluggards and idlers,
pausing abreast the
shoulders of his oxen, and half turn-
ing round with a
flourish of his merciful whip, while they
gained their length on
him. And I thought, Such is the labor
which the American
Congress exists to protect, honest,
manly toil, honest as
the day is long, that makes his bread
taste sweet, and keeps
society sweet, which all men respect
and have consecrated;
one of the sacred band, doing the need-
ful but irksome
drudgery. Indeed, I felt a slight reproach, be-
cause I observed this
from a window, and was not abroad and
stirring about a similar
business. The day went by, and at
evening I passed the
yard of another neighbor, who keeps
many servants, and
spends much money foolishly, while he
adds nothing to the common
stock, and there I saw the stone of
the morning lying beside
a whimsical structure intended to
adorn this Lord Timothy
Dexter's premises, and the dignity
forthwith departed from
the teamster's labor, in my eyes,
In my opinion, the sun
was made to light worthier toil than
this. I may add that his
employer has since run off, in debt
to a good part of the
town, and, after passing through Chan-
cery, has settled
somewhere else, there to become once more
a patron of the arts.
714 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
The ways by which you
may get money almost without
exception lead downward.
To have done anything by which
you earned money merely
is to have been truly idle or worse.
If the laborer gets no
more than the wages which his employer
pays him, he is cheated,
he cheats himself. If you would get
money as a writer or
lecturer, you must be popular, which is
to go down
perpendicularly. Those services which the com-
munity will most readily
pay for, it is most disagreeable to
render. You are paid for
being something less than a man. The
State does not commonly
reward a genius any more wisely.
Even the poet-laureate
would rather not have to celebrate
the accidents of
royalty. He must be bribed with a pipe of
wine; and perhaps
another poet is called away from his muse
to gauge that very pipe.
As for my own business, even that
kind of surveying which
I could do with most satisfaction my
employers do not want.
They would prefer that I should do
my work coarsely and not
too well, ay, not well enough. When
I observe that there are
different ways of surveying, my em-
ployer commonly asks
which will give him the most land, not
which is most correct. I
once invented a rule for measuring
cord-wood, and tried to introduce
it in Boston ; but the meas-
urer there told me that
the sellers did not wish to have their
wood measured correctly,
that he was already too accurate
for them, and therefore
they commonly got their wood meas-
ured in Charlestown
before crossing the bridge.
The aim of the laborer
should be, not to get his living, to
get "a good job/'
but to perform well a certain work; and,
even in a pecuniary
sense, it would be economy for a town to
pay its laborers so well
that they would not feel that they
were working for low
ends, as for a livelihood merely, but for
scientific, or even
moral ends. Do not hire a man who does
your work for money, but
him who does it for love of it.
It is remarkable that
there are few men so well employed,
so much to their minds,
but that a little money or fame would
commonly buy them off
from their present pursuit. I see ad-
vertisements for active
young men, as if activity were the
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
715
whole of a young man's
capital. Yet I have been surprised
when one has with
confidence proposed to me, a grown man,
to embark in some
enterprise of his, as if I had absolutely
nothing to do, my life
having been a complete failure hitherto,
What a doubtful compliment
this to pay me! As if he had
met me halfway across
the ocean beating up against the wind,
but bound nowhere, and
proposed to me to go along with
him! If I did, what do
you think the underwriters would say?
No, no! I am not without
employment at this stage of the
voyage. To tell the
truth, I saw an advertisement for able-
bodied seamen, when I
was a boy, sauntering in my native
port, and as soon as I
came of age I embarked.
The community has no
bribe that will tempt a wise man.
You may raise money
enough to tunnel a mountain, but you
cannot raise money
enough to hire a man who is minding
his awn business. An
efficient and valuable man does what he
can, whether the
community pay him for it or not. The in-
efficient offer their
inefficiency to the highest bidder, and are
forever expecting to be
put into office. One would suppose
that they were rarely
disappointed.
Perhaps I am more than
usually jealous with respect to my
freedom. I feel that my
connection with and obligation to
society are still very
slight and transient. Those slight labors
which afford me a
livelihood, and by which it is allowed that
I am to some extent
serviceable to my contemporaries, are
as yet commonly a
pleasure to me, and I am not often re-
minded that they are a
necessity. So far I am successful.
But I foresee that if my
wants should be much increased, the
labor required to supply
them would become a drudgery. If
I should sell both my
forenoons and afternoons to society, as
most appear to do, I am
sure that for me there would be noth-
ing left worth living
for. I trust that I shall never thus sell
my birthright for a mess
pf.pptt^ge. I wi$h to suggest that &
man may be very
industrious, and yet not spend his time welL
There is no more fatal
blunderer than he who consumes the
greater part of his life
getting his living. All great enterprises
716 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
are self-supporting. The
poet, for instance, must sustain his
body by his poetry, as a
steam planing-mill feeds its boilers
with the shavings it
makes. You must get your living by lov-
ing. But as it is said
of the merchants that ninety-seven in a
hundred fail, so the
life of men generally, tried by this stand-
ard, is a failure, and
bankruptcy may be surely prophesied.
Merely to come into the
world the heir of a fortune is not
cO be born, but to be
still-born, rather. To be supported by
fie charity of friends,
or a government-pension, provided
you continue to breathe,
by whatever fine synonyms you de-
scribe these relations,
is to go into the almshouse. On Sun-
days the poor debtor
goes to church to take an account of
stock, and finds, of
course, that his outgoes have been greater
than his income. In the
Catholic Church, especially, they go
into Chancery, make a
clean confession, give up all, and think
to start again. Thus men
will lie on their backs, talking about
the fall of man, and
never make an effort to get up.
As for the comparative
demand which men make on life, it
is an important
difference between two, that the one is satis-
fied with a level
success, that his marks can all be hit by point-
blank shots, but the
other, however lew and unsuccessful his
life may be, constantly
elevates his aim, though at a very
slight angle to the
horizon. I should much rather be the last
man, though, as the
Orientals say, "Greatness doth not ap-
proach him who is
forever looking down; and all those who
are looking high are
growing poor/'
It is remarkable that
there is little or nothing to be remem-
oered written on the
subject of getting a living; how to make
getting a living not
merely honest and honorable, but alto-
gether inviting and
glorious; for if getting a living is not so,
then living is not. One
would think, from looking at liter-
ature, that this
question had never disturbed a solitary indi-
vidual's musings. Is it
that men are too much disgusted with
their experience to
speak of it? The lesson of value which
money teaches, which the
Author of the Universe has taken
so much pains to teach
us, we are inclined to skip altogether.
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
717
As for the means of
living, it is wonderful how indifferent men
of all classes are about
it, even reformers, so called, whether
they inherit, or earn,
or steal it. I think that Society has done
nothing for us in this
respect, or at least has undone what
she has done. Cold and
hunger seem more friendly to my
nature than those
methods which men have adopted and
advise to ward them off.
The title wise is, for
the most part, falsely applied. How
can one be a wise man,
if he does not know any better how
to live than other men?
if he is only more cunning and
intellectually subtle?
Does Wisdom work in a treadmill? or
does she teach how to
succeed by her example? Is there any
such thing as wisdom not
applied to life? Is she merely the
miller who grinds the
finest logic? It is pertinent to ask if
Plato got his living in
a better way or more successfully than
his contemporaries, or did
he succumb to the difficulties of
life like other men? Did
he seem to prevail over some of them
merely by indifference,
or by assuming grand airs? or find it
easier to live, because
his aunt remembered him in her will?
The ways in which most
men get their living, that is, live,
are mere make-shifts,
and a shirking of the real business of
life, chiefly because
they do not know, but partly because
they do not mean, any
better.
The rush to California,
for instance, and the attitude, not
merely of merchants, but
of philosophers and prophets, so
called, in relation to
it, reflect the greatest disgrace on man-
kind. That so many are
ready to live by luck, and so get the
means of commanding the
labor of others less lucky, without
contributing any value
to society! And that is called enter-
prise! I know of no more
startling development of the immor-
tality of trade, and all
the common modes of getting a living.
The philosophy and
poetry and religion of such a mankind
are not worth the dust of
a puff-ball. The hog that gets his liv-
ing by rooting, stirring
up the soil so, would be ashamed of
such company. If I could
command the wealth of all the
worlds by lifting my
finger, I would not pay such a price for
718 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
it. Even Mahomet knew
that God did not make this world
in jest. It makes God to
be a moneyed gentleman who scat-
ters a handful of
pennies in order to see mankind scramble
for them. The world's
raffle! A subsistence in the domains of
Nature a thing to be
raffled for! What a comment, what a
satire, on our
institutions! The conclusion will be, that man-
kind will hang itself
upon a tree. And have all the precepts in
all the Bibles taught
men only this? and is the last and most
admirable invention of
the human race only an improved
muck-rake? Is this the
ground on which Orientals and Occi-
dentals meet? Did God
direct us so to get our living, digging
where we never planted,
and He would, perchance, reward
us with lumps of gold?
God gave the righteous
man a certificate entitling him
to food and raiment, but
the unrighteous man found a fac-
simile of the same in
God's coffers, and appropriated it, and
obtained food and
raiment like the former. It is one of the
most extensive systems
of counterfeiting that the world has
seen. I did not know
that mankind were suffering for want
of gold. I have seen a
little of it. I know that it is very malle-
able, but not so
malleable as wit. A grain of gold will gild a
great surface, but not
so much as a grain of wisdom.
The gold-digger in the
ravines of the mountains is as much,
a gambler as his fellow
in the saloons of San Francisco. What
difference does it make
whether you shake dirt or shake dice?
If you win, society is
the loser. The gold-digger is the enemy
of the honest laborer,
whatever checks and compensations
there may be. It is not
enough to tell me that you worked
hard to get your gold.
So does the Devil work hard. The
way of transgressors may
be hard in many respects. The
humblest observer who
goes to the mines sees and says
that gold-digging is of
the character of a lottery; the gold
thus obtained is not the
same thing with the wages of honest
toil. But, practically,
he iorgets what he has seen, for he has
seen only the fact, not
the principle, and goes into trade there,
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
719
that is, buys a ticket
in what commonly proves another lot-
tery, where the fact is
not so obvious.
After reading Howitt's
account of the Australian gold-
diggings one evening, I
had in my mind's eye, all night, the
numerous valleys, with
their streams, all cut up with foul '
pits, from ten to one
hundred feet deep, and half a dozen feet
across, as close as they
can be dug, and partly filled with
water, the locality to
which men furiously rush to probe
for their fortunes,
uncertain where they shall break ground,
not knowing but the gold
is under their camp itself, some-
times digging one
hundred and sixty feet before they strike
the vein, or then
missing it by a foot, turned into demons,
and regardless of each
others' rights, in their thirst for riches,
whole valleys, for
thirty miles, suddenly honeycombed by
the pits of the miners,
so that even hundreds are drowned
in them, standing in
water, and covered with mud and
clay, they work night
and day, dying of exposure and dis-
ease. Having read this,
and partly forgotten it, I was think-
ing, accidentally, of my
own unsatisfactory life, doing as
others do; and with that
vision of the diggings still before
me, I asked myself why /
might not be washing some gold
daily, though it were
only the finest particles, why / might
not sink a shaft down to
the gold within me, and work that
mine. There is a
Ballarat, a Bendigo for you, what though
it were a sulky-gully?
At any rate, I might pursue some
path, however solitary
and narrow and crooked, in which I
could walk with love and
reverence. Wherever a man sepa-
rates from the
multitude, and goes his own way in this mood,
there indeed is a fork
in the road, though ordinary travelers
may see only a gap in
the paling. His solitary path across-lots
will turn out the higher
way of the two.
Men rush to California
and Australia as if the true gold
were to be found in that
direction; but that is to go to the very
opposite extreme to
where it lies. They go prospecting farther
and farther away from
the true lead, and are most unfortu-
nate when they think
themselves most successful. Is not our
720 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
native soil auriferous?
Does not a stream from the golden
mountains flow through
our native valley? and has not this
for more than geologic
ages been bringing down the shining
particles and forming
the nuggets for us? Yet, strange to tell,
if a digger steal away,
prospecting for this true gold, into the
unexplored solitudes
around us, there is no danger that any
will dog Lis steps, and
endeavor to supplant him. He may
claim and undermine the
whole valley even, both the culti-
vated and the
uncultivated portions, his whole life long in
peace, for no one will
ever dispute his claim. They will not
mind his cradles or his
toms. He is not confined to a claim
twelve feet square, as
at Ballarat, but may mine anywhere,
and wash the whole wide
world in his torn.
Howitt says of the man
who found the great nugget which
weighed twenty-eight
pounds, at the Bendigo diggings in Aus-
tralia: "He soon
began to drink; got a horse, and rode all
about, generally at full
gallop, and, when he met people,
called out to inquire if
they knew who he was, and then
kindly informed them
that he was 'the bloody wretch that
had found the nugget. 7
At last he rode full speed against a
tree, and nearly knocked
his brains out." I think, however,
there was no danger of
that, for he had already knocked his
brains out against the
nugget. Howitt adds, "He is a hope-
lessly ruined man."
But he is a type of the class. They are
all fast men. Hear some
of the names of the places where they
dig: "Jackass
Flat," "Sheep's-Head Gully," "Murderer's
Bar," etc. Is there
no satire in these names? Let them carry
their ill-gotten wealth
where they will, I am thinking it will
still be "Jackass
Flat," if not "Murderer's Bar," where they
live.
The last resource of our
energy has been the robbing of
graveyards on the
Isthmus of Darien, an enterprise which ap-
pears to be but in its
infancy; for, according to late accounts,
an act has passed its
second reading in the legislature of New
Granada, regulating this
kind of mining; and a correspond-
ent of the Tribune
writes: "In the dry season, when the
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
721
weather will permit of
the country being properly prospected,
no doubt other rich
guacas [that is, graveyards] will be
found." To
emigrants he says: "Do not come before Decem-
ber; take the Isthmus
route in preference to the Boca del
Toro one ; bring no
useless baggage, and do not cumber your-
self with a tent; but a
good pair of blankets will be neces-
sary; a pick, shovel,
and axe of good material will be almost
all that is
required:" advice which might have been taken
from the "Burker's
Guide." And he concludes with this line
in Italics and small
capitals: "// you are doing well at home,
STAY THERE," which
may fairly be interpreted to mean, "If
you are getting a good
living by robbing graveyards at home,
stay there."
But why go to California
for a text? She is the child of New
England, bred at her own
school and church.
It is remarkable that
among all the preachers there are so
few moral teachers. The
prophets are employed in excusing
the ways of men. Most
reverend seniors, the Uluminati of the
age, tell me, with a
gracious, reminiscent smile, betwixt an
aspiration and a
shudder, not to be too tender about these
things, to lump all
that, that is, make a lump of gold of it.
The highest advice I
have heard on these subjects was grovel-
ing. The burden of it
was, It is not worth your while to
undertake to reform the
world in this particular. Do not ask
how your bread is
buttered ; it will make you sick, if you do,
and the like. A man had
better starve at once than lose his
innocence in the process
of getting his bread. If within the
sophisticated man there
is not an unsophisticated one, then
he is but one of the
Devil's angels. As we grow old, we live
more coarsely, we relax
a little in our disciplines, and, to some
extent, cease to obey
our finest instincts. But we should be
fastidious to the
extreme of sanity, disregarding the gibes of
those who are more
unfortunate than ourselves.
In our science and
philosophy, even, there is commonly no
true and absolute
account of things. The spirit of sect and
bigotry has planted its
hoof amid the stars. You have only
722 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
to discuss the problem,
whether the stars are inhabited or
not, in order to
discover it. Why must we daub the heavens
as well as the earth? It
was an unfortunate discovery that
Dr. Kane was a Mason,
and that Sir John Franklin was an-
oiher. But it was a more
cruel suggestion that possibly that
was the reason why the
former went in search of the latter.
There is not a popular
magazine in this country that would
dare to print a child's
thought on important subjects without
comment. It must be
submitted to the D. D.'s. I would it
were the
chicka-dee-dees.
You come from attending
the funeral of mankind to at-
tend to a natural
phenomenon. A little thought is sexton to
all the world.
I hardly know an
intellectual man, even, who is so broad
and truly liberal that
you can think aloud in his society. Most
with whom you endeavor
to talk boon come to a stand against
some institution in
which they appear to hold stock, that is,
some particular, not
unVersal, way of viewing things. They
will continually thrust
their own low roof, with its narrow
skylight, between you
and the sky, when it is the unob-
structed heavens you
would view. Get out of the way with
your cobwebs, wash your
windows, I say! In some lyceums
they tell me that they
have voted to exclude the subject of
religion. But how do I
know what their religion is, and v/hen
[ am near to or far from
it? I have walked into such an arena
and done my best to make
a clean breast of what religion I
have experienced, and
the audience never suspected what I
was about. The lecture
was as harmless as moonshine to them.
Whereas, if I had read
to them the biography of the greatest
scamps in history, they
might have thought that I had written
the lives of the deacons
of their church. Ordinarily, the in-
quiry is, Where did you
come from? or, Where are you going?
That was a more
pertinent question which I overheard one of
my auditors put to
another once, "What does he lecture
for?" It made me
quake in my shoes.
To speak impartially,
the best men that I know are not
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
723
serene, a world in
themselves. For the most part, they dwell
in forms, and flatter
and study effect only more finely than the
rest. We select granite
for the underpinning of our houses and
barns ; we build fences
of stone ; but we do not ourselves rest
on an underpinning of
granitic truth, the lowest primitive
rock. Our sills are
rotten. What stuff is the man made of
who is not coexistent in
our thought with the purest and sub-
tilest truth? I often
accuse my finest acquaintances of an
immense frivolity; for,
while there are manners and compli-
ments we do not meet, we
do not teach one another the lessons
of honesty and sincerity
that the brutes do, or of steadiness
and solidity that the
rocks do. The fault is commonly mutual,
however ; for we do not
habitually demand any more of each
other.
That excitement about
Kossuth, consider how character-
istic, but superficial,
it was! only another kind of politics
or dancing. Men were
making speeches to him all over the
country, but each
expressed only the thought, or the want of
thought, of the multitude.
No man stood on truth. They were
merely banded together,
as usual one leaning on another, and
all together on nothing;
as the Hindoos made the world rest
on an elephant, the
elephant on a tortoise, and the tortoise
on a serpent, and had
nothing to put under the serpent.
For all fruit of that
stir we have the Kossuth hat.
Just so hollow and
ineffectual, for the most part, is our
ordinary conversation.
Surface meets surface. When our life
ceases to be inward and
private, conversation degenerates
into mere gossip. We
rarely meet a man who can tell us any
news which he has not
read in a newspaper, or been told by
his neighbor ; and, for
the most part, the only difference be-
tween us and our fellow
is that he has seen the newspapei \
or been out to tea, and
we have not. In proportion as our
inward life fails, we go
more constantly and desperately to
the post-office. You may
depend on it, that the poor fellow
who walks away with the
greatest number of letters proud
724 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
of his extensive
correspondence has not heard from himself
this long while.
I do not know but it is
too much to read one newspaper
a week. I have tried it
recently, and for so long it seems to me
that I have not dwelt in
my native region. The sun, the
clouds, the snow, the
trees say not so much to me. You can-
not serve two masters. It requires more than a
day's devo-
tion to know and to
possess the wealth of a day.
We may well be ashamed
to tell what things we have read
or heard in our day. I
do not know why my news should be
so trivial, considering
what one's dreams and expectations
are, why the
developments should be so paltry. The news we
hear, for the most part,
is not news to our genius. It is the
stalest repetition. You
are often tempted to ask why such
stress is laid on a
particular experience which you have had,
that, after twenty-five
years, you should meet Hobbins,
Registrar of Deeds,
again on the sidewalk. Have you not
budged an inch, then?
Such is the daily news. Its facts ap-
pear to float in the
atmosphere, insignificant as the sporules
of fungi, and impinge on
some neglected thallus, or surface
of our minds, which
affords a basis for them, and hence a
parasitic growth. We
should wash ourselves clean of such
news. Of what
consequence, though our planet explode, if
there is no character
involved in the explosion? In health we
have not the least
curiosity about such events. We do not
live for idle amusement.
I would not run round a corner to
see the world blow up.
All summer, and far into
the autumn, perchance, you un-
consciously went by the
newspapers and the news, and now
you find it was because
the morning and the evening were
full of news to you.
Your walks were full of incidents. You
attended, not to the
affairs of Europe, but to your own af-
fairs in Massachusetts
fields. If you chance to live and move
and have your being in
that thin stratum in which the events
that make the news
transpire, thinner than the paper on
which it is printed,
then these things will fill the world for
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
725
you ; but if you soar
about or dive below that plane, you can-
not remember nor be
reminded of them. Really to see the
sun rise or go down
every day, so to relate ourselves to a uni-
versal fact, would
preserve us sane forever. Nations! What
are nations? Tartars,
and Huns, and Chinamen! Like in-
sects, they swarm. The
historian strives in vain to make them
memorable. It is for
want of a man that there are so manj
men. It is individuals
that populate the world. Any man
thinking may say with
the Spirit of Lodin,
"I look down from
my height on nations,
And they become ashes
before me;
Calm is my dwelling in
the clouds;
Pleasant are the great
fields of my rest."
Pray, let us live
without being drawn by dogs, Esquimaux-
fashion, tearing over
hill and dale, and biting each other's
ears.
Not without a slight
shudder at the danger, I often per-
ceive how near I had
come to admitting into my mind the de-
tails of some trivial
affair, the news of the street; and I am
astonished to observe
how willing men are to lumber their
minds with such rubbish,
to permit idle rumors and inci-
dents of the most insignificant
kind to intrude on ground
which should be sacred
to thought. Shall the mind be a public
arena, where the affairs
of the street and the gossip of the
tea-table chiefly are
discussed? Or shall it be a quarter of
heaven itself, an
hypaethral temple, consecrated to the serv-
ice of the gods? I find
it so difficult to dispose of the few fact?
which to me are
significant, that I hesitate to burden my at-
tention with those which
are insignificant, which only a divine
mind could illustrate.
Such is, for the most part, the news
in newspapers and
conversation. It is important to preserve
the mind's chastity in
this respect. Think of admitting the
details of a single case
of the criminal court into our thoughts,
to stalk profanely
through their very sanctum sanctorum for
726 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
an hour, ay, for many
hours! to make a very bar-room of the
mind's inmost apartment,
as if for so long the dust of the
street had occupied us,
the very street itself, with all its
travel, its bustle, and
filth, had passed through our thoughts*
shrine! Would it not be
an intellectual and moral suicide?
When I have been
compelled to sit spectator and auditor in
a court room for some
hours, and have seen my neighbors,
who were not compelled,
stealing in from time to time, and
tiptoeing about with
washed hands and faces, it has appeared
to my mind's eye, that,
when they took off their hats, their
ears suddenly expanded
into vast hoppers for sound, between
which even their narrow
heads were crowded. Like the vanes
of windmills, they
caught the broad but shallow stream of
sound, which, after a
few titillating gyrations in their coggy
brains, passed out the
other side. I wondered if. when they
got home, they were as
careful to wash their ears as before
their hands and faces.
It has seemed to me, at such a time,
lhat the auditors and
the witnesses, the jury and the counsel,
the judge and the
criminal at the bar, if I may presume him
guilty before he is
convicted, were all equally criminal, and
a thunderbolt might be
expected to descend and consume
them all together.
By all kinds of traps
and signboards, threatening the ex-
treme penalty of the
divine law, exclude such trespassers from
the only ground which
can be sacred to you. It is so hard to
forget what it is worse
than useless to remember ! If I am to
be a thoroughfare, I
prefer that it be of the mountain-brooks,
the Parnassian streams,
and not the town-sewers. There is
inspiration, that gossip
which comes to the ear of the atten-
tive mind from the
courts of heaven. There is the profane
and stale revelation of
the bar-room and the police court.
The same ear is fitted
to receive both communications. Only
the character of the hearer
determines to which it shall be
open, and to which
closed. I believe that the mind can be per-
manently profaned by the
habit of attending to trivial things,
so that all our thoughts
shall be tinged with triviality. Our
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
727
very intellect shall be
macadamized, as it were, its founda-
tion broken into
fragments for the wheels of travel to roll
over; and if you would
know what will make the most durable
pavement, surpassing
rolled stones, spruce blocks, and asphal-
tum, you have only to
look into some of our minds which have
been subjected to this
treatment so long.
If we have thus
desecrated ourselves, as who has not?
the remedy will be
wariness and devotion to reconsecrate
ourselves, and make once
more a fane of the mind. We should
treat our minds, that
is, ourselves, as innocent and ingenuous
children, whose
guardians we are, and be careful what objects
and what subjects we
thrust on their attention. Read not the
Times. Read the
Eternities. Conventionalities are at length
as bad as impurities.
Even the facts of science may dust the
mind by their dryness,
unless they are in a sense effaced each
morning, or rather
rendered fertile by the dews of fresh and
living truth. Knowledge
does not come to us by details, but
in flashes of light from
heaven. Yes, every thought that passes
through the mind helps
to wear and tear it, and to deepen the
ruts, which, as in the
streets of Pompeii, evince how much
it has been used. How
many things there are concerning which
we might well deliberate
whether we had better know them,
had better let their
peddling-carts be driven, even at the
slowest trot or walk,
over that bridge of glorious span by
which we trust to pass
at last from the farthest brink of time
to the nearest shore of
eternity! Have we no culture, no refine-
ment, but skill only to
live coarsely and serve the Devil?
to acquire a little
worldly wealth, or fame, or liberty, and
make a false show with
it, as if we were all husk and shell,
with no tender and
living kernel to us? Shall our institutions
be like those
chestnut-burs which contain abortive nuts, per-
fect only to prick the
fingers?
America is said to be
the arena on which the battle of free-
dom is to be fought; but
surely it cannot be freedom in a
merely political sense
that is meant. Even if we grant that
the American has freed
himself from a political tyrant, hf
728 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
is still the slave of an
economical and moral tyrant. Now
that the republic the
res-publica has been settled, it is time
to look after
res-privata, the private state, to see, as the
Roman senate charged its
consuls, "ne quid m-PRiVATA
detriment* caperet"
that the private state receive no detri-
ment.
Do we call this the land
of the free? What is it to be free
from King George and
continue the slaves of King Preju-
dice? What is it to be
born free and not to live free? What
is the value of any
political freedom, but as a means to moral
freedom? Is it a freedom
to be slaves, or a freedom to be free,
of which we boast? We
are a nation of politicians, concerned
about the outmost
defenses only of freedom. It is our chil-
dren's children who may
perchance be really free. We tax
ourselves unjustly.
There is a part of us which is not repre-
sented. It is taxation
without representation. We quarter
troops, we quarter fools
and cattle of all sorts upon ourselves.
We quarter our gross
bodies on our poor souls, till the former
eat up all the latter's
substance.
With respect to a true
culture and manhood, we are essen-
tially provincial still,
not metropolitan, mere Jonathans.
We are provincial,
because we do not find at home our stand-
ards; because we do not
worship truth, but the reflection
of truth ; because we
are warped and narrowed by an exclu-
sive devotion to trade
and commerce and manufactures and
agriculture and the
like, which are but means, and not the
end.
So is the English
Parliament provincial. Mere country-
bumpkins, they betray
themselves, when any more impor-
tant question arises for
them to settle, the Irish question, for
instance, the English
question why did I not say? Their
natures are subdued to
what they work in. Their "good breed-
ing" respects only
secondary objects. The finest manners in
the world are
awkwardness and fatuity when contrasted with
a finer intelligence.
They appear but as the fashions of past
days, mere courtliness,
knee-buckles and small-clothes, out
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
729
of date. It is the vice,
but not the excellence of manners, that
they are continually
being deserted by the character ; they are
cast-off clothes or
shells, claiming the respect which belonged
to the living creature.
You are presented with the shells in-
stead of the meat, and
it is no excuse generally, that, in the
case of some fishes, the
shells are of more worth than the
meat. The man who
thrusts his manners upon me does as if
he were to insist on
introducing me to his cabinet of curiosi-
ties, when I wished to
see himself. It was not in this sense that
the poet Decker called
Christ "the first true gentleman that
ever breathed." I
repeat that in this sense the most splendid
court in Christendom is
provincial, having authority to con-
sult about Transalpine
interests only, and not the affairs of
Rome. A praetor or
proconsul would suffice to settle the ques-
tions which absorb the
attention of the English Parliament
and the American
Congress.
Government and
legislation: these I thought were respect-
able professions. We
have heard of heaven-born Numas,
Lycurguses, and Solons,
in the history of the world, whose
names at least may stand
for ideal legislators; but think of
legislating to regulate
the breeding of slaves, or the exporta-
tion of tobacco ! What
have divine legislators to do with the
exportation or the
importation of tobacco? what humane ones
with the breeding of
slaves? Suppose you were to submit the
question to any son of
God, and has He no children in the
nineteenth century? is
it a family which is extinct? in what
condition would you get
it again? What shall a State like
Virginia say for itself
at the last day, in which these have
been the principal, the
staple productions? What ground is
there for patriotism in
such a State? I derive my facts from
statistical tables which
the States themselves have published.
A commerce that whitens
every sea in quest of nuts and
raisins, and makes
slaves of its sailors for this purpose 1 I saw,
the other day, a vessel
which had been wrecked, and many
lives lost, and her
cargo of rags, juniper-berries, and bitter
almonds were strewn
along the shore. It seemed hardly worth
730 THE WRITINGS OF
THOREAU
the while to tempt the
dangers of the sea between Leghorn
and New York for the
sake of a cargo of juniper-berries and
bitter almonds. America
sending to the Old World for her
bitters! Is not the
sea-brine, is not shipwreck, bitter enough
to make the cup of life
go down here? Yet such, to a great ex-
tent, is our boasted
commerce; and there are those who style
themselves statesmen and
philosophers who are so blind as to
think that progress and
civilization depend on precisely this
kind of interchange and
activity, the activity of flies about
a molasses-hogshead.
Very well, observes one, if men were
oysters. And very well,
answer I, if men were mosquitoes.
Lieutenant Herndon, whom
our Government sent to ex-
plore the Amazon, and,
it is said, to extend the area of slav-
ery, observed that there
was wanting there "an industrious
and active population,
who know what the comforts of life
are, and who have
artificial wants to draw out the great re-
sources of the
country." But what are the "artificial wants"
to be encouraged? Not
the love of luxuries, like the tobacco
and slaves of, I
believe, his native Virginia, nor the ice and
granite and other
material wealth of our native New Eng-
land; nor are "the
great resources of a country' 7 that fertility
or barrenness of soil
which produces these. The chief want, in
every State that I have
been into, was a high and earnest pur-
pose in its inhabitants.
This alone draws out "the great re-
sources" of Nature,
and at last taxes her beyond her re-
sources; for man
naturally dies out of her. When we want
culture more than
potatoes, and illumination more than
sugar-plums, then the
great resources of a world are taxed
and drawn out, and the
result, or staple production, is, not
slaves, nor operatives,
but men, those rare fruits called
heroes, saints, poets,
philosophers, and redeemers.
In short, as a
snow-drift is formed where there is a lull in
the wind, so, one would
say, where there is a lull of truth, an
institution springs up.
But the truth blows right on over it,
nevertheless, and at
length blows it down.
What is called politics
is comparatively something so super-
LIFE WITHOUT PRINCIPLE
731
fidal and inhuman, that
practically I have never fairly recog-
nized that it concerns
me at all. The newspapers, I perceive,
devote some of their columns
specially to politics or govern-
ment without charge; and
this, one would say, is all that
saves it ; but as I love
literature and to some extent the truth
also, I never read those
columns at any rate. I do not wish
to blunt my sense of
right so much. I have not got to answer
for having read a single
President's Message. A strange age
of the world this, when
empires, kingdoms, and republics
come a-begging to a
private man's door, and utter their com-
plaints at his elbow! I
cannot take up a newspaper but 1
find that some wretched
government or other, hard pushed,
and on its last legs, is
interceding with me, the reader, to vote
for it, more importunate
than an Italian beggar; and if 1
have a mind to look at
its certificate, made, perchance, by
some benevolent
merchant's clerk, or the skipper that brought
it over, for it cannot
speak a word of English itself, I shall
probably read of the
eruption of some Vesuvius, or the over-
flowing of some Po, true
or forged, which brought it into this
condition. I do not
hesitate, in such a case, to suggest work>
or the almshouse; or why
not keep its castle in silence, as J
do commonly? The poor
President, what with preserving his
popularity and doing his
duty, is completely bewildered. The
newspapers are the
ruling power. Any other government is
reduced to a few marines
at Fort Independence. If a man neg-
lects to read the Daily
Times, government will go down on
its knees to him, for
this is the only treason in these days.
Those things which now
most engage the attention of men v
as politics and the
daily routine, are, it is true, vital functions
of human society, but
should be unconsciously performed,
like the corresponding
functions of the physical body. They
are infra-human, a kind
of vegetation. I sometimes awake
to a half-consciousness
of them going on about me, as a man
may become conscious of
some of the processes of digestion
in a morbid state, and
so have the dyspepsia, as it is called.
It is as if a thinker
submitted himself to be rasped by the
732 THE WRITINGS OF
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great gizzard of
creation. Politics is, as it were, the gizzard
of society, full of grit
and gravel, and the two political parties
are its two opposite
halves, sometimes split into quarters,
it may be, which grind
on each other. Not only individuals,
but states, have thus a
confirmed dyspepsia, which expresses
itself, you can imagine
by what sort of eloquence. Thus our
life is not altogether a
forgetting, but also, alas! to a great ex-
tent, a remembering, of
that which we should never have
been conscious of,
certainly not in our waking hours. Why
should we not meet, not
always as dyspeptics, to tell our bad
dreams, but sometimes as
ewpeptics, to congratulate each
other on the
ever-glorious morning? I do not make an exorbi-
tant demand, surely.
ምንም አስተያየቶች የሉም:
አስተያየት ይለጥፉ