The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll, Complete Contents...

ogy for the abuse and falsehood in your paper of Tuesday, October 27th, respecting me, I will prose- cute you for lying." Thomas Paine. In another letter, speaking of this same man, Mr. Paine says: "If an unprincipled bully cannot be re- formed, he can be punished." "Cheetham has been so long in the habit of giving false information, that truth is to him like a foreign language." 477 Mr. Cheetham wrote the life of Paine to gratify his malice and to support religion. He was prose- cuted for libel—was convicted and fined. Yet the life of Paine written by this man is referred to by the Christian world as the highest authority. As to the personal habits of Mr. Paine, we have the testimony of William Carver, with whom he lived; of Mr. Jarvis, the artist, with whom he lived; of Mr. Staple, with whom he lived; of Mr. Purdy, who was a tenant of Paine's; of Mr. Burger, with whom he was intimate; of Thomas Nixon and Captain Daniel Pelton, both of whom knew him well; of Amasa Woodsworth, who was with him when he died; of John Fellows, who boarded at the same house; of James Wilburn, with whom he boarded; of B. F. Haskin, a lawyer, who was well acquainted with him and called upon him during

his last illness; of Walter Morton, a friend; of Clio Rickman, who had known him for many years; of Willet and Elias Hicks, Quakers, who knew him in- timately and well; of Judge Herttell, H. Margary, Elihu Palmer, and many others. All these testified to the fact that Mr. Paine was a temperate man. In those days nearly everybody used spirituous liquors. Paine was not an exception; but he did not drink to excess. Mr. Lovett, who kept the City Hotel where 478 Paine stopped, in a note to Caleb Bingham, declared that Paine drank less than any boarder he had. Against all this evidence you produce the story of Grant Thorburn—the story of the Rev. J. D. Wick- ham that an elder in his church told him that Paine was a drunkard, corroborated by the Rev. Charles Hawley, and an extract from Lossing's history to the same effect. The evidence is overwhelmingly against you. Will you have the fairness to admit it? Your witnesses are merely the repeaters of the false- hoods of James Cheetham, the convicted libeler. After all, drinking is not as bad as lying. An honest drunkard is better than a calumniator of the dead. "A remnant of old mortality, drunk, bloated and half asleep" is better than a

perfectly sober defender of human slavery. To become drunk is a virtue compared with steal- ing a babe from the breast of its mother. Drunkenness is one of the beatitudes, compared with editing a religious paper devoted to the defence of slavery upon the ground that it is a divine insti- tution. Do you really think that Paine was a drunken beast when he wrote "Common Sense"—a pamphlet that aroused three millions of people, as people were never aroused by a pamphlet before? Was he a 479 drunken beast when he wrote the "Crisis"? Was it to a drunken beast that the following letter was addressed: Rocky Hill, September 10, 1783. "I have learned since I have been at this place, that you are at Bordentown.—Whether for the sake of retirement or economy I know not. Be it for either or both, or whatever it may, if you will come to this place and partake with me I shall be exceed- ingly happy to see you at it. Your presence may remind Congress of your past services to this country; and if it is in my power to impress them, command my best exertions with freedom, as they will be rendered cheerfully by one who entertains a lively sense of the importance of your works, and who with much

pleasure subscribes himself, "Your Sincere Friend, "George Washington." Did any of your ancestors ever receive a letter like that? Do you think that Paine was a drunken beast when the following letter was received by him? "You express a wish in your letter to return to America in a national ship; Mr. Dawson, who brings over the treaty, and who will present you with this letter, is charged with orders to the captain of the 480 Maryland to receive and accommodate you back, if you can be ready to depart at such a short warning. You will in general find us returned to sentiments worthy of former times; in these it will be your glory to have steadily labored and with as much effect as any man living. That you may live long to continue your useful labors, and reap the reward in the thankfulness of nations, is my sincere prayer. Accept the assur- ances of my high esteem and affectionate attachment." Thomas Jefferson. Did any of your ancestors ever receive a letter like that? "It has been very generally propagated through the continent that I wrote the pamphlet 'Common Sense.' I could not have written anything in so manly and striking a style."—John Adams. "A few more such flaming

arguments as were exhibited at Falmouth and Norfolk, added to the sound doctrine and unanswerable reasoning con- tained in the pamphlet 'Common Sense,' will not leave numbers at a loss to decide on the propriety of a separation."—George Washington. "It is not necessary for me to tell you how much all your countrymen—I speak of the great mass of the people—are interested in your welfare. 481 They have not forgotten the history of their own Revolution and the difficult scenes through which they passed; nor do they review its several stages without reviving in their bosoms a due sensibility of the merits of those who served them in that great and arduous conflict. The crime of ingratitude has not yet stained, and I trust never will stain, our national character. You are considered by them as not only having rendered important services in our own Revolution, but as being on a more extensive scale the friend of human rights, and a distinguished and able defender of public liberty. To the welfare of Thomas Paine the Americans are not, nor can they be indifferent.".. James Monroe. Did any of your ancestors ever receive a letter like that? "No writer has exceeded Paine in ease and famil-

iarity of style, in perspicuity of expression, happiness of elucidation, and in simple and unassuming lan- guage."'—Thomas Jefferson. Was ever a letter like that written about an editor of the New York Observer? Was it in consideration of the services of a drunken beast that the Legislature of Pennsylvania presented Thomas Paine with five hundred pounds sterling? 482 Did the State of New York feel indebted to a drunken beast, and confer upon Thomas Paine an estate of several hundred acres? "I believe in the equality of man, and I believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creat- ures happy." "My own mind is my own church." "It is necessary to the happiness of man that he be mentally faithful to himself." "Any system of religion that shocks the mind of a child cannot be a true system." "The Word of God is the creation which we behold." "The age of ignorance commenced with the Christian system." "It is with a pious fraud as with a bad action—it begets a calamitous necessity of going on." "To read the Bible without horror, we must undo everything that is tender, sympathizing and benev- olent in the heart of man." "The man

does not exist who can say I have per- secuted him, or that I have in any case returned evil for evil." "Of all tyrannies that afflict mankind, tyranny in religion is the worst." 483 "My own opinion is, that those whose lives have been spent in doing good and endeavoring to make their fellow-mortals happy, will be happy hereafter." "The belief in a cruel god makes a cruel man." "The intellectual part of religion is a private affair between every man and his Maker, and in which no third party has any right to interfere. The practical part consists in our doing good to each other." "No man ought to make a living by religion. One person cannot act religion for another—every person must perform it for himself." "One good schoolmaster is of more use than a hundred priests." "Let us propagate morality unfettered by super- stition." "God is the power, or first cause, Nature is the law, and matter is the subject acted upon." "I believe in one God and no more, and I hope for happiness beyond this life." "The key of heaven is not in the keeping of any sect nor ought the road to it to be obstructed by any." "My religion, and the whole of it, is the fear and love of the Deity and universal

philanthropy." "I have yet, I believe, some years in store, for I have a good state of health and a happy mind. I 484 take care of both, by nourishing the first with tem- perance and the latter with abundance." "He lives immured within the Bastile of a word." How perfectly that sentence describes you! The Bastile in which you are immured is the word "Calvinism." "Man has no property in man." What a splendid motto that would have made for the New York Observer in the olden time! "The world is my country; to do good, my religion." I ask you again whether these splendid utterances came from the lips of a drunken beast? Did Thomas Paine die in destitution and want? The charge has been made, over and over again, that Thomas Paine died in want and destitution— that he was an abandoned pauper—an outcast with- out friends and without money. This charge is just as false as the rest. Upon his return to this country in 1802, he was worth $30,000, according to his own statement made at that time in the following letter addressed to Clio Rickman: "My Dear Friend: Mr. Monroe, who is appointed minister extraordinary to France, takes charge of 485 this, to be delivered to Mr. Este, banker in

Paris, to be forwarded to you. "I arrived at Baltimore the 30th of October, and you can have no idea of the agitation which my arrival occasioned. From New Hampshire to Georgia (an extent of 1,500 miles) every newspaper was filled with applause or abuse. "My property in this country has been taken care of by my friends, and is now worth six thousand pounds sterling; which put in the funds will bring me £400 sterling a year. "Remember me in affection and friendship to your wife and family, and in the circle of your friends." Thomas Paine. A man in those days worth thirty thousand dol- lars was not a pauper. That amount would bring an income of at least two thousand dollars per annum. Two thousand dollars then would be fully equal to five thousand dollars now. On the 12th of July, 1809, the year in which he died, Mr. Paine made his will. From this instru- ment we learn that he was the owner of a valuable farm within twenty miles of New York. He also was the owner of thirty shares in the New York Phoenix Insurance Company, worth upwards of fif- teen hundred dollars. Besides this, some personal 486 property and ready money. By his will he gave to Walter Morton, and Thomas Addis

Emmett, brother of Robert Emmett, two hundred dollars each, and one hundred to the widow of Elihu Palmer. Is it possible that this will was made by a pauper —by a destitute outcast—by a man who suffered for the ordinary necessaries of life? But suppose, for the sake of the argument, that he was poor and that he died a beggar, does that tend to show that the Bible is an inspired book and that Calvin did not burn Servetus? Do you really regard poverty as a crime? If Paine had died a millionaire, would you have accepted his religious opinions? If Paine had drank nothing but cold water would you have repudiated the five cardinal points of Calvin- ism? Does an argument depend for its force upon the pecuniary condition of the person making it? As a matter of fact, most reformers—most men and women of genius, have been acquainted with poverty. Beneath a covering of rags have been found some of the tenderest and bravest hearts. Owing to the attitude of the churches for the last fifteen hundred years, truth-telling has not been a very lucrative business. As a rule, hypocrisy has worn the robes, and honesty the rags. That day is passing away. You cannot now answer the argu- 487 ments of a

man by pointing at holes in his coat. Thomas Paine attacked the church when it was powerful—when it had what was called honors to bestow—when it was the keeper of the public con- science—when it was strong and cruel. The church waited till he was dead then attacked his reputation and his clothes. Once upon a time a donkey kicked a lion. The lion was dead. Conclusion. From the persistence with which the orthodox have charged for the last sixty-eight years that Thomas Paine recanted, and that when dying he was filled with remorse and fear; from the malignity of the attacks upon his personal character, I had con- cluded that there must be some evidence of some kind to support these charges. Even with my ideas of the average honor of believers in superstition— the disciples of fear—I did not quite believe that all these infamies rested solely upon poorly attested lies. I had charity enough to suppose that some- thing had been said or done by Thomas Paine capa- ble of being tortured into a foundation for these calumnies. And I was foolish enough to think that even you would be willing to fairly examine the pre- tended evidence said to sustain these charges, and 488 give your honest

conclusion to the world. I sup- posed that you, being acquainted with the history of your country, felt under a certain obligation to Thomas Paine for the splendid services rendered by him in the darkest days of the Revolution. It was only reasonable to suppose that you were aware that in the midnight of Valley Forge the "Crisis," by Thomas Paine, was the first star that glittered in the wide horizon of despair. I took it for granted that you knew of the bold stand taken and the brave words spoken by Thomas Paine, in the French Con- vention, against the death of the king. I thought it probable that you, being an editor, had read the "Rights of Man;" that you knew that Thomas Paine was a champion of human liberty; that he was one of the founders and fathers of this Republic; that he was one of the foremost men of his age; that he had never written a word in favor of injustice; that he was a despiser of slavery; that he abhorred tyr- anny in all its forms; that he was in the widest and highest sense a friend of his race; that his head was as clear as his heart was good, and that he had the courage to speak his honest thought. Under these circumstances I had hoped that you would for

the moment forget your religious prejudices and submit to the enlightened judgment of the world the evi- 489 dence you had, or could obtain, affecting in any way the character of so great and so generous a man. This you have refused to do. In my judgment, you have mistaken the temper of even your own readers. A large majority of the religious people of this country have, to a considerable extent, outgrown the preju- dices of their fathers. They are willing to know the truth and the whole truth, about the life and death of Thomas Paine. They will not thank you for having presented them the moss-covered, the maimed and dis- torted traditions of ignorance, prejudice, and credulity. By this course you will convince them not of the wickedness of Paine, but of your own unfairness. What crime had Thomas Paine committed that he should have feared to die? The only answer you can give is, that he denied the inspiration of the Scriptures. If this is a crime, the civilized world is filled with criminals. The pioneers of human thought —the intellectual leaders of the world—the foremost men in every science—the kings of literature and art—those who stand in the front rank of investiga- tion—the

men who are civilizing, elevating, instruct- ing, and refining mankind, are to-day unbelievers in the dogma of inspiration. Upon this question, the intellect of Christendom agrees with the conclusions reached by the genius of Thomas Paine. Centuries 490 ago a noise was made for the purpose of frightening mankind. Orthodoxy is the echo of that noise. The man who now regards the Old Testament as in any sense a sacred or inspired book is, in my judg- ment, an intellectual and moral deformity. There is in it so much that is cruel, ignorant, and ferocious that it is to me a matter of amazement that it was ever thought to be the work of a most merciful deity. Upon the question of inspiration Thomas Paine gave his honest opinion. Can it be that to give an honest opinion causes one to die in terror and de- spair? Have you in your writings been actuated by the fear of such a consequence? Why should it be taken for granted that Thomas Paine, who devoted his life to the sacred cause of freedom, should have been hissed at in the hour of death by the snakes of conscience, while editors of Presbyterian papers who defended slavery as a divine institution, and cheer- fully justified the stealing

of babes from the breasts of mothers, are supposed to have passed smilingly from earth to the embraces of angels? Why should you think that the heroic author of the "Rights of Man" should shudderingly dread to leave this "bank and shoal of time," while Calvin, dripping with the blood of Servetus, was anxious to be judged of God? Is it possible that the persecutors—the instigators of 491 the massacre of St. Bartholomew—the inventors and users of thumb-screws, and iron boots, and racks— the burners and tearers of human flesh—the stealers, whippers and enslavers of men—the buyers and beaters of babes and mothers—the founders of inquisitions—the makers of chains, the builders of dungeons, the slanderers of the living and the calum- niators of the dead, all died in the odor of sanctity, with white, forgiven hands folded upon the breasts of peace, while the destroyers of prejudice—the apostles of humanity—the soldiers of liberty—the breakers of fetters—the creators of light—died sur- rounded with the fierce fiends of fear? In your attempt to destroy the character of Thomas Paine you have failed, and have succeeded only in leaving a stain upon your own. You have written words as cruel,

bitter and heartless as the creed of Calvin. Hereafter you will stand in the pillory of history as a defamer—a calumniator of the dead. You will be known as the man who said that Thomas Paine, the "Author Hero," lived a drunken, coward- ly and beastly life, and died a drunken and beastly death. These infamous words will be branded upon the forehead of your reputation. They will be re- membered against you when all else you may have uttered shall have passed from the memory of men. Robert G. Ingersoll. THE OBSERVER'S SECOND ATTACK * From the NY. Observer of Nov. 1, 1877. TOM PAINE AGAIN. In the Observer of September 27th, in response to numerous calls from different parts of the country for information, and in fulfillment of a promise, we presented a mass of testimony, chiefly from persons with whom we had been personally acquainted, establishing the truth of our assertions in regard to the dissolute life and miserable end of Paine. It was not a pleasing subject for discussion, and an apology, or at least an explanation, is due to our readers for resuming it, and for occupying so much space, or any space, in exhibiting the truth and the proofs in regard to the character of a man

who had become so debased by his intemperance, and so vile in his habits, as to be excluded, for many years before and up to the time of his death, from all decent society. Our reasons for taking up the subject at all, and for presenting at this time so much additional testi- mony in regard to the facts of the case, are these: At different periods for the last fifty years, efforts 493 have been made by Infidels to revive and honor the memory of one whose friends would honor him most by suffering his name to sink into oblivion, if that were possible. About two years since, Rev. O. B. Frothingham, of this city, came to their aid, and undertook a sort of championship of Paine, making in a public discourse this statement: "No private character has been more foully calumniated in the name of God than that of Thomas Paine." (Mr. Frothingham, it will be remembered, is the one who recently, in a public discourse, announced the down- fall of Christianity, although he very kindly made the allowance that, "it may be a thousand years before its decay will be visible to all eyes." It is our private opinion that it will be at least a thousand and one.) Rev. John W. Chadwick, a minister of the

same order of unbelief, who signs himself, "Min- ister of the Second Unitarian Society in Brooklyn," has devoted two discourses to the same end, eulogiz- ing Paine. In one of these, which we have before us in a handsomely printed pamphlet, entitled, "Method and Value of his (Paine's) Religious Teachings," he says: "Christian usage has determ- ined that an Infidel means one who does not believe in Christianity as a supernatural religion; in the Bible as a Supernatural book; in Jesus as a super- 494 natural person. And in this sense Paine was an Infidel, and so, thank God, am I." It is proper to add that Unitarians generally decline all responsibil- ity for the utterances of both of these men, and that they compose a denomination, or rather two denom- inations, of their own. There is also a certain class of Infidels who are not quite prepared to meet the odium that attaches to the name; they call themselves Christians, but their sympathies are all with the enemies of Chris- tianity, and they are not always able to conceal it. They have not the courage of their opinions, like Mr. Frothingham and Mr. Chadwick, and they work only sideways toward the same end. We have been no little

amused since our last article on this subject appeared, to read some of the articles that have been written on the other side, though professedly on no side, and to observe how sincerely these men depre- cate the discussion of the character of Paine, as an unprofitable topic. It never appeared to them un- profitable when the discussion was on the other side. Then, too, we have for months past been receiving letters from different parts of the country, asking authentic information on the subject and stating that the followers of Paine are making extraordinary efforts to circulate his writings against the Christian 495 religion, and in order to give currency to these writ- ings they are endeavoring to rescue his name from the disgrace into which it sank during the latter years of his life. Paine spent several of his last years in furnishing a commentary upon his Infidel principles. This commentary was contained in his besotted, degraded life and miserable end, but his friends do not wish the commentary to go out in connection with his writings. They prefer to have them read without the comments by their author. Hence this anxiety to free the great apostle of Infidelity from the

obloquy which his life brought upon his name; to represent him as a pure, noble, virtuous man, and to make it appear that he died a peaceful, happy death, just like a philosopher. But what makes the publication of the facts in the case still more imperative at this time is the whole- sale accusation brought against the Christian public by the friends and admirers of Paine. Christian ministers as a class, and Christian journals are expressly accused of falsifying history, of defaming "the mighty dead!" (meaning Paine,) etc. In the face of all these accusations it cannot be out of place to state the facts and to fortify the statement by satisfactory evidence, as we are abundantly able to do. 496 The two points on which we proposed to produce the testimony are, the character of Paine's life (refer- ring of course to his last residence in this country, for no one has intimated that he had sunk into such besotted drunkenness until about the time of his return to the United States in 1802), and the real character of his death as consistent with such a life, and as marked further by the cowardliness, which has been often exhibited by Infidels in the same circumstances. It is nothing at

all to the purpose to show, as his friends are fond of doing, that Paine rendered important service to the cause of American Inde- pendence. This is not the point under discussion and is not denied. No one ever called in question the valuable service that Benedict Arnold rendered to the country in the early part of the Revolutionary war; but this, with true Americans, does not suffice to cast a shade of loveliness or even to spread a man- tle of charity over his subsequent career. Whatever share Paine had in the personal friendship of the fathers of the Revolution he forfeited by his subse- quent life of beastly drunkenness and degradation, and on this account as well as on account of his blasphemy he was shunned by all decent people. We wish to make one or two corrections of mis- 497 statements by Paine's advocates, on which a vast amount of argument has been simply wasted. We have never stated in any form, nor have we ever supposed, that Paine actually renounced his Infidel- ity. The accounts agree in stating that he died a blaspheming Infidel, and his horrible death we regard as one of the fruits, the fitting complement of his Infidelity. We have never seen anything that

encouraged the hope that he was not abandoned of God in his last hours. But we have no doubt, on the other hand, that having become a wreck in body and mind through his intemperance, abandoned of God, deserted by his Infidel companions, and de- pendent upon Christian charity for the attentions he received, miserable beyond description in his condi- tion, and seeing nothing to hope for in the future, he was afraid to die, and was ready to call upon God and upon Christ for mercy, and ready perhaps in the next minute to blaspheme. This is what we referred to in speaking of Paine's death as cowardly. It is shown in the testimony we have produced, and still more fully in that which we now present. The most wicked men are ready to call upon God in seasons of great peril, and sometimes ask for Christian min- istrations when in extreme illness; but they are often ready on any alleviation of distress to turn to 498 their wickedness again, in the expressive language of Scripture, "as the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire." We have never stated or intimated, nor, so far as we are aware, has any one of our correspondents stated, that Paine died in poverty. It has been

frequently and truthfully stated that Paine was de- pendent on Christian charity for the attentions he received in his last days, and so he was. His Infidel companions forsook him and Christian hearts and hands ministered to his wants, notwithstanding the blasphemies of his death-bed. Nor has one of our correspondents stated, as alleged, that Paine died at New Rochelle. The Rev. Dr. Wickham, who was a resident of that place nearly fifty years ago, and who was perfectly familiar with the facts of his life, wrote that Paine spent "his latter days" on the farm presented to him by the State of New York, which was strictly true, but made no reference to it as the place of his death. Such misrepresentations serve to show how much the advocates of Paine admire "truth." With these explanations we produce further evi- dence in regard to the manner of Paine's life and the character of his death, both of which we have already 499 characterized in appropriate terms, as the following testimony will show. In regard to Paine's "personal habits," even before his return to this country, and particularly his aver- sion to soap and water, Elkana Watson, a gentleman of the highest social position,

who resided in France during a part of the Revolutionary war, and who was the personal friend of Washington, Franklin, and other patriots of the period, makes some inci- dental statements in his "Men and Times of the Revolution." Though eulogizing Paine's efforts in behalf of American Independence, he describes him as "coarse and uncouth in his manners, loathsome in his appearance, and a disgusting egotist." On Paine's arrival at Nantes, the Mayor and other dis- tinguished citizens called upon him to pay their respects to the American patriot. Mr. Watson says: "He was soon rid of his respectable visitors, who left the room with marks of astonishment and dis- gust." Mr. W., after much entreaty, and only by promising him a bundle of newspapers to read while undergoing the operation, succeeded in prevailing on Paine to "stew, for an hour, in a hot bath." Mr. W. accompanied Paine to the bath, and "instructed the keeper, in French, (which Paine did not under- stand,) gradually to increase the heat of the water 500 until 'le Monsieur serait bien bouille (until the gentle- man shall be well boiled;) and adds that "he became so much absorbed in his reading that he was nearly- parboiled

before leaving the bath, much to his im- provement and my satisfaction." William Carver has been cited as a witness in be- half of Paine, and particularly as to his "personal habits." In a letter to Paine, dated December 2, 1776, he bears the following testimony: "A respectable gentlemen from New Rochelle called to see me a few days back, and said that everybody was tired of you there, and no one would undertake to board and lodge you. I thought this was the case, as I found you at a tavern in a most miserable situation. You appeared as if you had not been shaved for a fortnight, and as to a shirt, it could not be said that you had one on. It was only the remains of one, and this, likewise, appeared not to have been off your back for a fortnight, and was nearly the color of tanned leather; and you had the most disagreeable smell possible; just like that of our poor beggars in England. Do you remember the pains I took to clean you? that I got a tub of warm water and soap and washed you from head to foot, and this I had to do three times before I could get you clean." (And then follow more disgusting details.) 501 "You say, also, that you found your own liquors during the time you

boarded with me; but you should have said, 'I found only a small part of the liquor I drank during my stay with you; this part I purchased of John Fellows, which was a demijohn of brandy containing four gallons, and this did not serve me three weeks.' This can be proved, and I mean not to say anything that I cannot prove; for I hold truth as a precious jewel. It is a well-known fact, that you drank one quart of brandy per day, at my expense, during the different times that you have boarded with me, the demijohn above mentioned excepted, and the last fourteen weeks you were sick. Is not this a supply of liquor for dinner and supper?" This chosen witness in behalf of Paine, closes his letter, which is full of loathsome descriptions of Paine's manner of life, as follows: "Now, sir, I think I have drawn a complete por- trait of your character; yet to enter upon every minutiae would be to give a history of your life, and to develop the fallacious mask of hypocrisy and de- ception under which you have acted in your political as well as moral capacity of life." (Signed) "William Carver." Carver had the same opinion of Paine to his dying day. When an old man, and an Infidel of the Paine

502 type and habits, he was visited by the Rev. E. F. Hatfield, D.D., of this city, who writes to us of his interview with Carver, under date of Sept. 27, 1877: "I conversed with him nearly an hour. I took special pains to learn from him all that I could about Paine, whose landlord he had been for eighteen months. He spoke of him as a base and shameless drunkard, utterly destitute of moral principle. His denunciations of the man were perfectly fearful, and fully confirmed, in my apprehension, all that had been written of Paine's immorality and repulsiveness." Cheetham's Life of Paine, which was published the year that he died, and which has passed through several editions (we have three of them now before us) describes a man lost to all moral sensibility and to all sense of decency, a habitual drunkard, and it is simply incredible that a book should have appeared so soon after the death of its subject and should have been so frequently republished without being at once refuted, if the testimony were not substantially true. Many years later, when it was found necessary to bolster up the reputation of Paine, Cheetham's Memoirs were called a pack of lies. If only one- tenth part of

what he publishes circumstantially in his volume, as facts in regard to Paine, were true, all that has been written against him in later years does 503 not begin to set forth the degraded character of the man's life. And with all that has been written on the subject we see no good reason to doubt the sub- stantial accuracy of Cheetham's portrait of the man whom he knew so well. Dr. J. W. Francis, well-known as an eminent phy- sician, of this city, in his Reminiscences of New York, says of Paine: "He who, in his early days, had been associated with, and had received counsel from Franklin, was, in his old age, deserted by the humblest menial; he, whose pen has proved a very sword among nations, had shaken empires, and made kings tremble, now yielded up the mastery to the most treacherous of tyrants, King Alcohol." The physician who attended Paine during his last illness was Dr. James R. Manley, a gentleman of the highest character. A letter of his, written in Octo- ber of the year that Paine died, fully corroborates the account of his state as recorded by Stephen Grellet in his Memoirs, which we have already printed. He writes: "New York, October 2, 1809: I was called upon by

accident to visit Mr. Paine, on the 25th of Feb- ruary last, and found him indisposed with fever, and very apprehensive of an attack of apoplexy, as he 504 stated that he had that disease before, and at this time felt a great degree of vertigo, and was unable to help himself as he had hitherto done, on account of an intense pain above the eyes. On inquiry of the attendants I was told that three or four days previously he had concluded to dispense with his usual quantity of accustomed stimulus and that he had on that day resumed it. To the want of his usual drink they attributed his illness, and it is highly probable that the usual quantity operating upon a state of system more excited from the above priva- tions, was the cause of the symptoms of which he then complained.... And here let me be per- mitted to observe (lest blame might attach to those whose business it was to pay any particular attention to his cleanliness of person) that it was absolutely impossible to effect that purpose. Cleanliness ap- peared to make no part of his comfort; he seemed to have a singular aversion to soap and water; he would never ask to be washed, and when he was he would always make objections;

and it was not un- usual to wash and to dress him clean very much against his inclinations. In this deplorable state, with confirmed dropsy, attended with frequent cough, vomiting and hiccough, he continued growing from bad to worse till the morning of the 8th of June, 505 when he died. Though I may remark that during the last three weeks of his life his situation was such that his decease was confidently expected every day, his ulcers having assumed a gangrenous appearance, being excessively fetid, and discolored blisters hav- ing taken place on the soles of his feet without any ostensible cause, which baffled the usual attempts to arrest their progress; and when we consider his former habits, his advanced age, the feebleness of his constitution, his constant habit of using ardent spirits ad libitum till the commencement of his last illness, so far from wondering that he died so soon, we are constrained to ask, How did he live so long? Con- cerning his conduct during his disease I have not much to remark, though the little I have may be somewhat interesting. Mr. Paine professed to be above the fear of death, and a great part of his con- versation was principally directed to give

the impres- sion that he was perfectly willing to leave this world, and yet some parts of his conduct were with difficulty reconcilable with his belief. In the first stages of his illness he was satisfied to be left alone during the day, but he required some person to be with him at night, urging as his reason that he was afraid that he should die when unattended, and at this period his deportment and his principle seemed to be con- 506 sistent; so much so that a stranger would judge from some of the remarks he would make that he was an Infidel. I recollect being with him at night, watch- ing; he was very apprehensive of a speedy dissolu- tion, and suffered great distress of body, and perhaps of mind (for he was waiting the event of an applica- tion to the Society of Friends for permission that his corpse might be deposited in their grave-ground, and had reason to believe that the request might be refused), when he remarked in these words, 'I think I can say what they made Jesus Christ to say—"My God, my God! why hast thou forsaken me?" He went on to observe on the want of that respect which he conceived he merited, when I observed to him that I thought his corpse should be matter

of least concern to him; that those whom he would leave behind him would see that he was properly interred, and, further, that it would be of little consequence to me where I was deposited provided I was buried; upon which he answered that he had nothing else to talk about, and that he would as lief talk of his death as of anything, but that he was not so indifferent about his corpse as I appeared to be. "During the latter part of his life, though his con- versation was equivocal, his conduct was singular; he could not be left alone night or day; he not only 507 required to have some person with him, but he must see that he or she was there, and would not allow his curtain to be closed at any time; and if, as it would sometimes unavoidably happen, he was left alone, he would scream and halloo until some person came to him. When relief from pain would admit, he seemed thoughtful and contemplative, his eyes being generally closed, and his hands folded upon his breast, although he never slept without the assist- ance of an anodyne. There was something remark- able in his conduct about this period (which comprises about two weeks immediately preceding his death), particularly when we

reflect that Thomas Paine was the author of the 'Age of Reason.' He would call out during his paroxysms of distress, without inter- mission, 'O Lord help me! God help me! Jesus Christ help me! Lord help me!' etc., repeating the same expressions without the least variation, in a tone of voice that would alarm the house. It was this conduct which induced me to think that he had abandoned his former opinions, and I was more inclined to that belief when I understood from his nurse (who is a very serious and, I believe, pious woman), that he would occasionally inquire, when he saw her engaged with a book, what she was reading, and, being answered, and at the same time asked 508 whether she should read aloud, he assented, and would appear to give particular attention. "I took occasion during the nights of the fifth and sixth of June to test the strength of his opinions respecting revelation. I purposely made him a very late visit; it was a time which seemed to suit exactly with my errand; it was midnight, he was in great distress, constantly exclaiming in the words above mentioned, when, after a considerable preface, I addressed him in the following manner, the nurse being present: 'Mr.

Paine, your opinions, by a large portion of the community, have been treated with deference, you have never been in the habit of mix- ing in your conversation words of coarse meaning; you have never indulged in the practice of profane swearing; you must be sensible that we are ac- quainted with your religious opinions as they are given to the world. What must we think of your present conduct? Why do you call upon Jesus Christ to help you? Do you believe that he can help you? Do you believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ? Come, now, answer me honestly. I want an answer from the lips of a dying man, for I verily believe that you will not live twenty-four hours.' I waited some time at the end of every question; he did not answer, but ceased to exclaim in the above 509 manner. Again I addressed him; 'Mr. Paine, you have not answered my questions; will you answer them? Allow me to ask again, do you believe? or let me qualify the question, do you wish to believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?' After a pause of some minutes, he answered, 'I have no wish to believe on that subject.' I then left him, and knew not whether he afterward spoke to any person on any subject, though he

lived, as I before observed, till the morning of the 8th. Such conduct, under usual circumstances, I conceive absolutely unaccount- able, though, with diffidence, I would remark, not so much so in the present instance; for though the first necessary and general result of conviction be a sin- cere wish to atone for evil committed, yet it may be a question worthy of able consideration whether excessive pride of opinion, consummate vanity, and inordinate self-love might not prevent or retard that otherwise natural consequence. For my own part, I believe that had not Thomas Paine been such a distinguished Infidel he would have left less equivo- cal evidences of a change of opinion. Concerning the persons who visited Mr. Paine in his distress as his personal friends, I heard very little, though I may observe that their number was small, and of that number there were not wanting those who endeavor- 510 ed to support him in his deistical opinions, and to encourage him to 'die like a man,' to 'hold fast his integrity,' lest Christians, or, as they were pleased to term them, hypocrites, might take advantage of his weakness, and furnish themselves with a weapon by which they might hope to

destroy their glorious sys- tem of morals. Numbers visited him from motives of benevolence and Christian charity, endeavoring to effect a change of mind in respect to his religious sentiments. The labor of such was apparently lost, and they pretty generally received such treatment from him as none but good men would risk a second time, though some of those persons called frequently." The following testimony will be new to most of our readers. It is from a letter written by Bishop Fenwick (Roman Catholic Bishop of Boston), con- taining a full account of a visit which he paid to Paine in his last illness. It was printed in the United States Catholic Magazine for 1846; in the Catholic Herald of Philadelphia, October 15, 1846; in a sup- plement to the Hartford Courant, October 23, 1847; and in Littell's Living Age for January 22, 1848, from which we copy. Bishop Fenwick writes: "A short time before Paine died I was sent for by him. He was prompted to this by a poor Catholic woman who went to see him in his sickness, and 511 who told him, among other things, that in his wretched condition if anybody could do him any good it would be a Roman Catholic priest. This woman was an American

convert (formerly a Shak- ing Quakeress) whom I had received into the church but a few weeks before. She was the bearer of this message to me from Paine. I stated this circum- stance to F. Kohlmann, at breakfast, and requested him to accompany me. After some solicitation on my part he agreed to do so? at which I was greatly rejoiced, because I was at the time quite young and inexperienced in the ministry, and was glad to have his assistance, as I knew, from the great reputation of Paine, that I should have to do with one of the most impious as well as infamous of men. We shortly after set out for the house at Greenwich where Paine lodged, and on the way agreed on a mode of proceeding with him. "We arrived at the house; a decent-looking elderly woman (probably his housekeeper,) came to the door and inquired whether we were the Catholic priests, for said she, 'Mr. Paine has been so much annoyed of late by other denominations calling upon him that he has left express orders with me to admit no one to-day but the clergymen of the Catholic Church. Upon assuring her that we were Catholic 512 clergymen she opened the door and showed us into the parlor. She then left the room and shortly

after returned to inform us that Paine was asleep, and, at the same time, expressed a wish that we would not disturb him, 'for,' said she, 'he is always in a bad humor when roused out of his sleep. It is better we wait a little till he be awake.' We accordingly sat down and resolved to await a more favorable moment. 'Gentlemen,' said the lady, after having taken her seat also, 'I really wish you may succeed with Mr. Paine, for he is laboring under great distress of mind ever since he was informed by his physicians that he cannot possibly live and must die shortly. He sent for you to-day because he was told that if any one could do him good you might. Possibly he may think you know of some remedy which his physicians are ignorant of. He is truly to be pitied. His cries when he is left alone are heart-rending. 'O Lord help me!' he will exclaim during his paroxysms of distress—'God help me—Jesus Christ help me!' repeating the same expressions without the least variation, in a tone of voice that would alarm the house. Sometimes he will say, 'O God, what have I done to suffer so much!' then, shortly after, 'But there is no God,' and again a little after, 'Yet if there should be, what

would become of me hereafter.' 513 Thus he will continue for some time, when on a sud- den he will scream, as if in terror and agony, and call out for me by name. On one of these occasions, which are very frequent, I went to him and inquired what he wanted. 'Stay with me,' he replied, 'for God's sake, for I cannot bear to be left alone.' I then observed that I could not always be with him, as I had much to attend to in the house. 'Then,' said he, 'send even a child to stay with me, for it is a hell to be alone.' 'I never saw,' she concluded, 'a more unhappy, a more forsaken man. It seems he cannot reconcile himself to die.' "Such was the conversation of the woman who had received us, and who probably had been employ- ed to nurse and take care of him during his illness. She was a Protestant, yet seemed very desirous that we should afford him some relief in his state of abandonment, bordering on complete despair. Hav- ing remained thus some time in the parlor, we at length heard a noise in the adjoining passage-way, which induced us to believe that Mr. Paine, who was sick in that room, had awoke. We accordingly pro- posed to proceed thither, which was assented to by the woman, and

she opened the door for us. On entering, we found him just getting out of his slumber. A more wretched being in appearance I 514 never beheld. He was lying in a bed sufficiently decent of itself, but at present besmeared with filth; his look was that of a man greatly tortured in mind; his eyes haggard, his countenance forbidding, and his whole appearance that of one whose better days had been one continued scene of debauch. His only nourishment at this time, as we were informed, was nothing more than milk punch, in which he indulged to the full extent of his weak state. He had par- taken, undoubtedly, but very recently of it, as the sides and corners of his mouth exhibited very un- equivocal traces of it, as well as of blood, which had also followed in the track and left its mark on the pillow. His face, to a certain extent, had also been besmeared with it." Immediately upon their making known the object of their visit, Paine interrupted the speaker by say- ing: "That's enough, sir; that's enough," and again interrupting him, "I see what you would be about. I wish to hear no more from you, sir. My mind is made up on that subject. I look upon the whole of the Christian scheme to be