Walden and On the Duty of Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau
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This book brings together two of Henry David Thoreau's most influential works.
Walden (1854) describes the two years, two months and two days Thoreau spent living alone in a small cabin he built himself beside Walden Pond, near Concord, Massachusetts, from 1845 to 1847. He went to the woods, he wrote, "because I wished to live deliberately". The book mixes practical details, such as what he grew, ate and spent, with reflections on nature, work, wealth and how much of what people chase they truly need.
Civil Disobedience (1849) explains why Thoreau refused to pay a tax that supported slavery and the Mexican-American War, and why he accepted a night in jail for it. He argues that people should follow their conscience even when it means breaking an unjust law peacefully. The essay later influenced Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr.
Ideas you will find:
- Simple living and self-reliance
- Nature as a teacher
- Peaceful resistance to injustice
First published: Walden 1854, Civil Disobedience 1849.
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Walden, and On The
Duty Of Civil Disobedience
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Title : Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience
Author : Henry David Thoreau
Release date : January 1, 1995 [eBook #205]
Most recently updated: January 28, 2021
Language : English
Credits : Judith Boss, and David Widger
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WALDEN, AND
ON THE DUTY OF CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE ***
WA L D E N
and
ON THE DUTY OF CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE
by Henry David Thoreau
Contents
WALDEN
Economy
Where I Lived, and What I Lived For
Reading
Sounds
Solitude
Visitors
The Bean-Field
The Village
The Ponds
Baker Farm
Higher Laws
Brute Neighbors
House-Warming
Former Inhabitants and Winter Visitors
Winter Animals
The Pond in Winter
Spring
Conclusion
ON THE DUTY OF CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE
WALDEN
Economy
When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived
alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had built
myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and
earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two years and
two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.
I should not obtrude my affairs so much on the notice of my readers if
very particular inquiries had not been made by my townsmen concerning
my mode of life, which some would call impertinent, though they do not
appear to me at all impertinent, but, considering the circumstances, very
natural and pertinent. Some have asked what I got to eat; if I did not feel
lonesome; if I was not afraid; and the like. Others have been curious to
learn what portion of my income I devoted to charitable purposes; and
some, who have large families, how many poor children I maintained. I will
therefore ask those of my readers who feel no particular interest in me to
pardon me if I undertake to answer some of these questions in this book. In
most books, the I , or first person, is omitted; in this it will be retained; that,
in respect to egotism, is the main difference. We commonly do not
remember that it is, after all, always the first person that is speaking. I
should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I
knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness
of my experience. Moreover, I, on my side, require of every writer, first or
last, a simple and sincere account of his own life, and not merely what he
has heard of other men’s lives; some such account as he would send to his
kindred from a distant land; for if he has lived sincerely, it must have been
in a distant land to me. Perhaps these pages are more particularly addressed
to poor students. As for the rest of my readers, they will accept such
portions as apply to them. I trust that none will stretch the seams in putting
on the coat, for it may do good service to him whom it fits.
I would fain say something, not so much concerning the Chinese and
Sandwich Islanders as you who read these pages, who are said to live in
New England; something about your condition, especially your outward
condition or circumstances in this world, in this town, what it is, whether it
is necessary that it be as bad as it is, whether it cannot be improved as well
as not. I have travelled a good deal in Concord; and everywhere, in shops,
and offices, and fields, the inhabitants have appeared to me to be doing
penance in a thousand remarkable ways. What I have heard of Brahmins
sitting exposed to four fires and looking in the face of the sun; or hanging
suspended, with their heads downward, over flames; or looking at the
heavens over their shoulders “until it becomes impossible for them to
resume their natural position, while from the twist of the neck nothing but
liquids can pass into the stomach;” or dwelling, chained for life, at the foot
of a tree; or measuring with their bodies, like caterpillars, the breadth of
vast empires; or standing on one leg on the tops of pillars,—even these
forms of conscious penance are hardly more incredible and astonishing than
the scenes which I daily witness. The twelve labors of Hercules were
trifling in comparison with those which my neighbors have undertaken; for
they were only twelve, and had an end; but I could never see that these men
slew or captured any monster or finished any labor. They have no friend
Iolas to burn with a hot iron the root of the hydra’s head, but as soon as one
head is crushed, two spring up.
I see young men, my townsmen, whose misfortune it is to have inherited
farms, houses, barns, cattle, and farming tools; for these are more easily
acquired than got rid of. Better if they had been born in the open pasture
and suckled by a wolf, that they might have seen with clearer eyes what
field they were called to labor in. Who made them serfs of the soil? Why
should they eat their sixty acres, when man is condemned to eat only his
peck of dirt? Why should they begin digging their graves as soon as they
are born? They have got to live a man’s life, pushing all these things before
them, and get on as well as they can. How many a poor immortal soul have
I met well nigh crushed and smothered under its load, creeping down the
road of life, pushing before it a barn seventy-five feet by forty, its Augean
stables never cleansed, and one hundred acres of land, tillage, mowing,
pasture, and wood-lot! The portionless, who struggle with no such
unnecessary inherited encumbrances, find it labor enou
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