“I have not gone and done anything, Mother. I have gone and not done something. Which very much needed the not doing.”
Thoreau’s mother is distressed that her troublesome son has landed in jail. Naturally curious, but as though it is far from the first time, she inquires as to what he has done to end up there. Henry David Thoreau (always called David Henry by his mother which he instantly moves to correct) responds in a way that is natural for him. He is a troublemaker and an iconoclast and this response sums up his character quite efficiently.
“Then simplify. Simplify!”
In response to Ralph Waldo Emerson’s contention that blacks and whites living together is too infinitely complicated a circumstance to make rash decision on, Thoreau responds with his usual exasperation that the solution is simple: simply simplify. This is not merely a quote from the play’s dialogue, but also a recommendation by the authors in directing how the performance should be stated. Taking Thoreau’s own advice, the recommendation is for as spare a production as possible with the intent of forcing the audience to participate through their own individual imaginations.
"Go along!"
Along with “Get along,” these words become the clarion call of everything that Thoreau is against and a recurring thematic motif of what drives Thoreau almost to the point of madness. The concept of “getting along” is anathema to Thoreau; it is a courtesy to principles not deserving of such. At one point he even has a nightmare where everyone seems to be chanting the phrase “Go along” with a demonic fury. Thoreau himself is also given to repeating the words at high volume, but with a contemptuous fury.
“Waldo! What are you doing out of jail?”
This is likely the most famous line from the play. It is the line which brings the curtain down on Act One. As indicated, Thoreau addresses his question to Ralph Waldo Emerson and the fact that he replies with a question to a question posed by Emerson provides great illumination into the character of Henry. The question Emerson asks, of course, is “Henry, what are you doing in jail?” and the chasm that exists between the mindset represented by the first question and that represented by the second is really the gap into which the play throws the audience. For Thoreau, the whole point of being jail is simplified: you don’t just go along to make things simple when your conscience is the price of courtesy. To Thoreau's everlasting indignation, most others do not share this perspective.
