rs Tee > cS SEs + BOS PSPS ese ee SAS ae fe_ ibrary omplete w DI YX - University of Vi rginia L 0 JC177 .A3 188 ALD Owt ennegeneane reaper hy sais yet a eae ae Enis vite Ricketmiele errr eer si Ree Be aaa oRausrtss Ea} . | a i nde oe r Li 9 ea . eee pipette ih he Thay: hint aa as edpdibididadap ae: ane ee) sa oy Ee Watints dares 9 sa eta aa riiaes HI : pout ‘ erry " bitsy baad)* 7 3 B= E+] q seeessind he eee het Leg4 cs ; a ee cha Te Te ee ae Mele nies ery a - . ‘ a4 ‘ Se 6 bl + eid ce ont mite . ee Pn A er : Pa NAbot IRM pag tbached dita oa eh et Te ellis elNeanibusdtbel 2 - ri i : PRP E ts PEE eet ata TE ETE Tits ceemetsreieciste terest aleneed pdekaeta fesse Tat EY Pte anette UA URRSI ie MR Se SENN op : Nas Baee Leer eee Ae de se eee tera ee bs oo im abla Saaain aaah Ss $ ~ _ - seb td ee 2} bb dks wi Me LE CO en tic ia ma or ee SRM elle re . a brett eae Ltt Sl letdda kde atti Te4 A J id cihidicade ST tet eee toe i. ore) teers Fe: eieieetap eee ‘ poet tre eee ReR ELE Lito rir ras eee es J * rs Bs a ct a . ‘e* one a ees ea a yaresgeeege dates Phe Ss ry i 3 rarttiit ss Py eerste saettei URE ED b 5 ri TEritie.Adc aadh de toads nied Nee ain Bn Ere MMT OLI a ar brie da yy f te RGA ASIA Ro qt ae Uta a et eee ety EYE Abt ew prone reat raty es (Pret reaeoy Teh toh FAK . s Phi tein Mt Pcbddsbs hos tahoe eter > x ‘ i esa x ie Ld ‘i 4 a ear pos Sas< a) ee A } BELEFORD, C LA J ou ue At aed a » Ss Lheee el F ry * j Q ri *. ae Sree i eee. — OF — Shee eet lee Te | er ~d ~oy 4 preg ty A 4 pases ws eA 4 prwer or — ' jes — Newie be ~ parr = i ‘ jos p= poms \, * * % * * a = « a ~ . Ps eI * = a . a a CJ a ef * ~ PA . - - 4 . Ps | i + : or we col * ad 4 oi eI 7 * bas . * “* ad » 4 +2 vad - Seal a ~ + te . « . ~ a - = Sl —) ; . : \ "Ee Doe) I WNC AK i}. Tres ts bees PeRigr is treetesy CHICAGO: ree eS) CD SO head Res KE & CO = LOOO.Misdiga these ay ert ye LPT ee oe Td beak ieee Pree sas ar ere he tt De eae er batpoem Mabe ic Late CT ET es Ete eee ey ye Ft ra A Seeearregss sss FOCas tg egages Dek ee eo) t Ei Cs * ‘ a a . . . . rs ae ee eS *gder ye ide weenieie Neneh: ss ee ~ RTO bar wei TTT tr ate La aii bate eG, ae me Beh ter : ARNT‘ INTRODUCTION, A FULL and impartial history of THomas Parner alone can supply that, the omission of which falsifies every work pre- tending to give an account of the war for the national inde- pendence of the United States. ‘he American Revolution of 1776, of which THomas PAINE was the author-hero, was the prelude to that far more sanguin- ary struggle against oppression and wrong which overturned, : ‘ : ni : eS : } . 4 “ANA? 7 ~ or irreparably shook, every throne in Western Europe; includ- ing, in the category, even the chair of St. Peter; and of which struggle the most prominent author-hero was JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU. said wis ‘ : ec : é os Ent Se Janne tier nA nant B to dwath nealer lak lv more i nis ] SFeENnerailLy UNDGEeErstood. ut &a LTUTD INCAICUIADIV More t ; yt nt ha ithar ] } +} r whoallw ver] ok ad \y } nt wWMportvant Nas NlbNerto peen elvNne WHOL overiooKkeada, Or DU T } } 7 8 Ere a Sees oO11lmMm™M NA 1 per It 1S ti i GI pe American and . s 1 Yrmoannh » ‘ % 17 y ' rewd Q or "9 S78 Hrench ro LUt1LOI v8 Dut fj 0 lI { es Or CTrUS8t 1 enna 1 tag mn CH pre )| Los { \ an YrignotS whicn 7 T mime u) l te lon organism : 1 : 7 7 H | l rey id in } il | Hic! DOT ile VOUAL dt ae fi LOpmN é that unt quera ole iesire ror per7éct ana Swejjicrvenily-tasting 01 f | 4 oJ | a + rl . 4-] NIM ImMNnAnN 1a 7 i ePTeT) | 12D VOC! nalcat tne common arm arm A . ry 7 , hss wai oe nt art FY d nt all nNanwrga } na terial- attarinat le aft, &) ;c1ence. OF arti. AD¢« Oi dt Tiatvuladl. itaveCLlial . J Pa bed a ai ae ¢ ha 4 thirst for 1; ’ which IStIC, OFT 77 Gvote acl 1G1IES : LoOatw tTOITsv’ IO] y yVnicn atisnea hy xo toning short ol the revolution whica will ] . 7° St remove alt constrarvnt —w! accomplish revolution—and ~ ¢ TERPS DREN LER E LOE LSA, : i A | oJ & bs A P ) I dt td dake bo aca 7 a Staisswerdet ac 2!vi, INTRODUCTION. trus justify LurHer, eee Parne, Fourrsr, and all other 4 ° ° Fa ri L] ce i> revolutionists. Of this crowning revolution, the text-book is 7 © > “7 7 37 38 j a Cn x 7 € The Positive Diilsainho of AUGUSTE COMTE. + 1 Had Thom: as Paine been seconde a as Vs aliant] y when he mace e + 1 7} Pie ; p iesteraft howl, as he was when he hurled detiance against k ngs, despotism by this time would rea/ly, instead of on nominally, have lain as low as did its minions at ji yy} lanc \iITOY r 1A > aTaoarangoandadie« 9 , ’ \ orkt own. ine land over which the star-Spanfiea Nanne? \XY TAR WT uld y . he ra han ma t} > Npatw ~ AAYPIINM+ Y\ 17 leaps waves would not have become the pl ey Of corrupt, spol nor would Europe now tremble at the nod of . 7 Ing demagoeues, a military dictator. Ns ere hea cee gh ly eg tte ave cee ee iy Not but that priestcraft itself has a substructure, a// bwt 1} 3) ote ~ a a : *“supernaturally ” profound, which must be sapped before: jus- ps 1 (heck : py tees an hs fe tice can be more than a mockery, freedom aught but a mere abstraction, or happiness little else than an zgnis fatuus. But man should have continued the great battle for his rights when the soldiers and author-heroes of liberty were in the full flush of victory ; instead of making that vain, mischievous and y) 1; . 111 femrroent 4e mana eny Ll ns nrnr were ‘ary til t} 3 } : Bs YIQGIC ulo uS { except 4S provistondat ) compromise with the human inclinations, called duty; and failing back on that miserabl. wrmistice between the wretched poor and the unhappy rich, for the conditions of which, consult that refinement of treacher a constitution, and that Opaque entanclement, ab surdly entitled Jaw. Can right be done and peace be main- tavned, under institutions whose ultimatum is to give half a breakfast to the million, and half a million or go to a balance of mankind, conditioned on such anxie ty on the part of the lat lest they be added to the million before dinner-time, that dyspepsia, rather than nutrition, “ waits on appetite?” Is man wremediably doomed to a condition which, at shorter andINTRODUCTION. shorter ‘intervals, forces him to seek relief in one of those saturnalias of carnage and devastation which throws progress aback, menaces civilization even, and yet but partially and s ~ temporarily mitigates human ills? Is thi 1 j ra ete th s the whole sum, sub- stance and end of revolution? It appears to me, that they rine eliave thie hs op be on aml oe i | 1% - : who believe this, and who admire and commend Thomas Paine from éhewr stand-point, dishonor his memory far more than his i a L ; © ? protessed enemies do or yy) 4 Zee 1 17 ° 7° a ° J fe na Os 4. - A wrt 2 A red ace - fn But to enable all to understandinely form their own conclu- sions, I shall give all the essential facts wt] Ea’ +i Sl 8, 4 Ssllali QIVE alt the essential tacts with respect to the ore very | ee ohana os Wd “it! rhinl Ic - 2 ! ] history before us, with which a long and careful search, under + wa hl : sn es 1 7 ° nN most favouradle circumstances, nas made me acquainted. For, A let facts UC fu ry SLMLCEM, WItd truth OG fully KnROWnT, 1S the Ccorre- late Of the proposition (the correctness of which 1 demonstrated In a former Work By fi yuon of wcrence’ ) that nature, sim 1 ao eee ea : oe 1) ce i 1 ° pie, SCIENT1INCG and artistic, will prove all-sui ICleNnt 5; ana neith¢ } 3 hor admits the possipility of, a SUperior : that man, therefore, requires nothing more than what nature is capable rig. os ay ye Se ae ee ee er TAC a AL or being levelops ad into proaus mis; Ol Can Ne KNOW aught beyond nature, or rorm what can intelleibly be called an idea or any happiness or good, superior to that which, yY means of the substantiai, 1ncluding of course, Man- himself, can be “7M -} procured. There needs but to have the light of truth shine fully upon - A. the veal character of Thomas Paine, to prove him to have been far creater man than 1s most ardent admirers have hit . . Swe kay ike | ; - Bainiorao hvaetanwo 4 rntsamatal riven him eredit ror pein? Paine’s nistory 1s so intimately : rat porl od hat nat nroorece hot} before and since hi connected with that oi progress, potn perore ana since fis time, that it will necessarily embrace a very wide rang heral intormation. e74 b eee! oe aS | P Slédtasar reese LiL iat . LReHles et Geer ye ee eaesee akRe ae at ee feet) INTRODUCTION. T am not unmindful that there have been hundreds, perhaps ee thousands of author-heroes and heroines. Bacon, Locke, Lu- — ther, Voltaire,* Fourier, and Robert Owen were prominently of the former, and Mary Wollstonecraft and Frances Wright were decidedly among the latter. But it appears to me, that none of their writings have been guwite such text-books of revolution, as those of Rousseau and Paine were; and those of Comte now are. * Schlosser, in his ‘‘ History of the Eighteenth Century,” whilst speaking of Voltaire, Shaftesbury, and ‘‘the numerous deists who were reproachfull called atheists,” says, that they “‘ wielded the weapons ” which Locke “| e& forged.”LIFE OF THOMAS PAINE. PERIOD FIRST. 1737—1774. From Mr. Parinr’s BIRTH TO HIS ARRIVAL IN AMERICA, THOMAS PAINE was born in Thetford. Norfolk county, Ene- land, on the 29th of January, 1737. ” His father was a member of the society of Friends. and a staymaker by trade; his mother professed the faith of the Church of Enegiand. At the age of about thirteen years, he left the common school, in Which, in addition to the branches of education usually taught therein, he had learned the rudiments of Latin, and went to work with his father. But his school teacher, who had been iS a ss 1 <3 = , . } . j a Jj Bi blue chaplain on board a man-of-war, had infused into his youne and ard nt mind such an enthusiasm for the naval service, that ‘ Se aI eT « + | t “als geet wt thy {7 oY a? Lc a+ - ay le ’ aitver reiuctanuy towing avout tnree years at nis not very iucra 3 Seas ne eee wis | Lit } ee Te : 2 ie oa tive or promising calling, he left home evidently resolved t i : ale +} i hh] yea) tic n 1? he moanth ” SECK tN DOL dit @) LLLO1. CVen Ln tie Cannons Mmoutn ana to pursue hic 13 throuon <« ehances ¢ n var the} PULS il} LO I i AV 1} A LILO t) ULLeT , 4 ; ; wntry and mNnce icht of I ninent Uwe sp OMWUtit wilt i LiCe Pra Hu Ot t ’ i Ureadriul must nave pee oetween nis compas ‘ 4 ed ‘ ts ; : : sais, <2 pie Sie ake sionate nature and nis necessities and am DO1TLON. Arrived in i 7 ] 7 tX7 } } rT, fant i y ’ NH AW lh > Nevey 1 laa atronya hy London, without friends or money, ne, nevertheless, strovs OY every means 1n AIS power to settie himself nonorably in tie ha Ge ome yee Bee | Bap ay tes ei fie SA Spas ate world. Without embracing tne areadrul proression he nad been } l ns ] } } 4 al Slo Dated ates a AOE i Awa neee 4 both constituted and educated to look upon With norror: be I | Tar 9S TITY dD h CQ ld OPC otinn even nes { O Tar aS to return OiS O1a occup cLON 5 eee ae ee heel Te Ae oe: Wat) A eee : ET panaAxcnar atnaaAt Aiter working afew weeks ior iWiYr. IVLOrris, 1n fianover Street, i A | erated Dyover where he al worlzed a. chort Longe Acre, he went to WVover, wnere ne aiso worKkea @ sHort . Af ‘ be Or 2 WEY. ixrrace eee EELS tS erry a7 - <= 7” me O z | | a Lita . eee tee Be Bek 8 neds at ie10 PERIOD FIRST. War between England and France had now been declared ; our hero was in all the b uoyancy of youth, being not yet seven- teen years old; fortune and glory were ‘possible on the one hand, pover rty and toil inevitable on the other. War is murder, ’tis true; murder, all the more heinous for being gloried in; murder, all the more abominable for the mag- nificence of the scale on which it is pe rpetrate 2d: murder, w hich touches the lowest depths of cowardice, in being carried on by - vast armies and immense fleets, instead of by sms aller and bolder gangs of ar and by more venturesome banditti. But its eterna craft would sail, and its, death-dealing cannon be mannet ee uly with or without. him; and the place which he refused would be taken, probably by some one with far less tenderness for a wounded or surrendered foe. On board the privateer “Terrible,” Captain Death, enlisted, ; : : sh 5 } 5 probably in the capacity of a ee or marine, the man who was afterwards the soul of a revolution which extended electiv: eee ati e 4] Pe eta ee frovernment over the Ost fertile pO tion of the globe, Incinaing : 5s - 7 : 2 3 j an area more than twenty times larger thai ps at of Great ' d the unprecedented onan to be called Britain, and who hac to the legislative councils of the foremost though a foreigner, nation in the world. For some unexplained cause, Paine left the “ Terrible” almost immediately, and ship} ped on board ie “ King of Prussia.” But the affectionate remonstrances of his father soon induced hin to aunt privateering altogethe or. In the year 1759, he settled at Sandwich, as a master stay maker. ‘here he became acquainted with a young woman of considerable personal attractions, whose name was Mary Lan bert, to whom he was married about the end of the same yea: His success in business not answering his expectations, he, in the year 1760, removed to Margate. Here his wife died. From Margate he went to London; thence back again to his native town; where, through the influence of Mr. Cocksedge, the recorder, he, towards the end of 1 763, obtained a situatio in the excise Under the pretext of some trifling fault, but really, as there is every reason for supposing, because he was 40 conscientious to connive at the villainies which were practiced by both his superiors and his compeers in office, he was sleet ssed from his situation in little more than a year. It has never been publicly stated for what it was pretended that he was dismissed; andthe fact that he was recalled in eleven months thereafter, shows inst PERIOD FIRST. 1 food va him was, it was not substan- tiated, nor probably, a very grave one. That the British cover AALEG, DOL PlOvaviy, Y grave one. 1a0 UNE OYivish YOvern- 20 4 that whatever the charge against ment, in 1ts subsequent efforts to destroy his character, never ’ 1 ce pa [eo = Sor pes s. - c ; ile of this affair, is conclusive in his favor | made any han Vuring his suspension from the excise, he repaired to London ) 5 et EG : hee 1 cae on AP 1] where he became a teacher in an academy Kept oy Mr. INObDILe ON pe i RE SAO | la pe iret) 1 ; Or WwooamMmans I ields: and aQuringe nis leisure nours A ADDIE! pst re < | ‘ erie : Lae } Sa” eee oN nhimseit to the stuay ot astronomy and natura philo opny. aor ee ee: S 1c en ¥. eee si 1, whi nh i avalled hnimseir of the advantaces which tne philosovhica none of Mark ORF ac PT Ween a es tectures Of Ji¥iartin and #£erguson aioraeda, ana mad bne ar qualntance Ol LPT. bey IS, an aoie astranomer or tne noOya! soelety. 3. 1 re : ¥ < % ‘ } } Ty} 1 On his re-ay ntment to tne exc : Paine returned to Thet . ae | geese Pog } wage eas 8 ot Pan ae ST a | ford, where ne continued tli tne spring Or if/oo, waen tie | cam At TAS , 9} | } : i Qiiacay Nara ha auties or 0) yt called him to Lewe , ik pussex 1et ne Cie: rey c a ee > MA 15 | a ph rede aaa geile ee boarded in the tamily ot Mr. Ollive, tobacconist; but at toe ena Pt ts Bees taal +] lint ~dian Dain WepaAapKnad hi in ot about tweive MontwnAs, tne latte! ca1ed., rane SUCCECEECCCG Alt ID : f : a : ocr ; business. and in the vear 1771, married his daughte1 os , ssp wae Cee nN In Pde. i vrote a small pampniet entitied ine Vase or we i 1} 1 the Kixeise Ormcel itnougi this Was special Imncten ed Uf 1} } 7 covel the case OL & Very il pDald Cia OT rovernment otneers t l-o Hl ] 2 < . ‘ no th rT 7} | v i was remarkaodly clear and CONnCcIS howing tn ne only way to } 1 : ; 4 goa : | ; Pat a ‘ . 1p it+xy + make peopie nonesi s to relieve them from the necessity ol } ‘ being otherwise mv. ? 7 4 i j | | | Aa ; i , 1 hat on a 1 ee This pamphiet excited both the aiarm ana natread OF DIS superiors Li othice, vwhnho were living 1n 1UXUryY ana ease, ang ‘ : ; ; ident aug: 1] ; who pesiaes getting nearly all the pay ror doing nardaly any of 3 ” - = o | e the WOrkK were pecomlinge rico DY SmuPlPeilIng, wot n toe Os tions enavdies vunem to Carry OL aiMost Wit impunity. hey 5 . 1 } l DL iaw in tne enaracter or conauct oi spared nO pains DLAs some ae 1D he naracts . 4 ee i the author ot their uneasiness, Dut coulda ona notnaing’g of WAICR LO accust him, xcept that ne Kept a tobdacconists Ssnop, tons ee eee 1] oie Lowe r. under tn: ircumstances, Was suinicient, and tne Most if not tl jentious exciseman in all England hnones it now toe on onsclentvl S excisemalh | Akh = 1G. 1] a ns 1774 was unaLly als LilisacuUu, ii PII a he On ae 1 1 1 ae a. eon -. oe ee @ Pain ‘sted with. and was highly respected by the bes ‘ A ‘ ys . .' A J a se : Pe are : ay bccn society in i y though so poor, that in a month after his SOUT UY AX ‘ 5 Aiblil 4 » i rs y . ag a es aa Lt dismissa ‘rom office, his coods had to be sola to pay NS Gevts ‘ e stron’ proo! thai he had never abused his omcial trust. a CoLly 3 - a i : [ have twice already so far violated my own taste, to please lic U YY 4 A CUUl ’ vB J ty : , . > . : : pee pre a eae pees mins -hase memoirg that of others, as to mention that the su pyject of these memoirs #@e ais eee kT | e a - ? | 7 4 eae tend eee t oper ss12 PERIOD FIRST. had been married. But I cannot consent to meddle further with, and assist the public to peer into affairs with which none but the parties immediately concerned have any business, except at protest. Therefore, I do now most solemnly protest, that [ feel more guilty, more ashamed, and more as though [ ought to have my nose rung, for writing anything at all about Mi and Mrs. Paine’s sexual affairs, than I should, were I to enter into a serious inquiry respecting the manner in which they per formed any of their natural functions. Still, reader you may be sure of my fidelity; you need not suspect that I’m going to suppress any of the facts, for if I undertake to doa thing, 7h Carry it throug! 1, if it’s ever sO mean. To begin, then :— In the flowery month of May, exactly one thousand seven hundred and seventy-four years after. Jehovah had been pre sented with a son by a woman whom he never, not even subse quently married, Mr. and Mrs. Paine separated; not through the intervention of the oT! m tyrant w ho had caused the separa tion between Mr. Paine and his first wife, but for that most heinous of all imaginable causes, in old f fogy estimation, mutaza/ consent. On the fourth of June, in the vear just desionated. 1 Wh Py es ely Renae ee : aaa 1: mir. taine signed articles Of agreement, rreely relinquishine to = Bs « l a | * e ng 1 j we ra % Dag LEYUALLY robbed his wife all the pr roperty of which mé ATI ag her for his benefit. This was just; but a Thomas Paine would blush to call it ur lagnanimous. Be ie 10ld the 2 O 1 7 ° em DOUN, In the prime of life ina prea licament in which thee were debarred. bv the inscrutable wisdom of si yelety, trom the legal exercise of those functions on which near ly all their enjoyments, including health itself, dep vended. All the causes of this separation are not known. Well. I’m heartily glad of it. YetI delight not in b holding vi and disappointment, even though the victims are the im ently inquisitive. Still, I repeat, I’m most heartily clad of ; That neither Mr. nor Mrs. Paine abused, o} leunte Y offended each other, is conclusive from the fact that M pes always spoke very ctiully a indly of his wi ind says the veracious Clio Rickman, “frequently s 1t h ar without letting her know the source whence it cams und Mrs Paine always held her, husband in such hich eet m . oO” ’ differed widely from him in the important of religion, that if any one spoke disresn: etfully of presence, she etene not a word of answerPERIOD FIRST. 13 pow oe > => Nees » the room, even though she wereattable. If questioned o1 s QC 1 4g? {- } » . {Oo e subject of her separation from her marital partner, she did +} \ 1 the same. Sensible woman. Cc 4 }° 2; ts . Z 5 - . . . 7 “Clio Rickman asserts, and the most intimate friends of Mr Paine support him, says Mr. Gilbert Vale in his excellent Lif 1p = st E of Paine, to which I here, once for all, acknowledge myseli : | de D.: } . aT) °2 F ‘ béMoima ye mucn indadepnote dd, that raine never co! habi ted wit bh his SECO: wire. Shor In treats the lio Ric] mi + 6c PS , ey RS a D > SU yy CK Lb aS “ak DUT Lily man was a man of integrity, and he asserts Chat th documents showing LOIS stranc point tovretvaer W th L¢ nr 1 ha pie oa a 1 : ve er . > proving that this arose from no pnoysicai aerectS in Lfaine. ‘ } ; . : ; = am: ~° , \\ nen toe Que Stlon was pial ny put tO Mer. Paine by & 1rlienad instead of spitting in the questioner’s face, or kicking him, h ’} LL d:— i had CAUSE 11 O yUSINeSS of anybody.” Oh, Lm mort ul Paine ! Did VOU KNOW the feelings which CLEC W rl Ing of the five last paragra phs has cost me, you would torgiv’ LV, EVEl D1 me And now, ch ar public. hav ing’, to please Vou, stepped asice Irom tl uth « { li ltImMmate history, permit me to continue the dict SOLON a Little «4 rae} Oo please mysei OU V- YOu. Ca ulto me extra attention to one who has sacrificed his feel I Ings, ane put tor what | am now going t LV, Will Dave sacrilices nis Se€il-respect, even, ror your accommodation. Al A) 17 | ; h Tt EX ron Dé LO Of Un ny tlan world believes that tne mai race rie One form ; ny nid > ntin » +] ] »y . | ry\ leat] Ant iC, LiCe i nea, snouiag continue tlil severea oy deatti, + r 7 ' : 7? - 1 xr adultery. iN1S 18 Supposed to pe,—Drst, 1n accordance wit! . A L scripture; secondly, in accordance with the best interests ot 1evy. WA hat (sod hath JOU Ch, let not man put asunder,’ XCEPt for ‘“‘cause of a lultery,” is the text in the first piace LnG the prevention ot Lie mtiousness, and regard tor the im ] fe ce 2Y ] : TeSLS OL GI _ Nn, constitute tne pretext In) the Sseconag Pidace. 1 but Soc ety bl idly 7 Jumps LO the con clusion th: Lt the constantly varvl 1s di icrees O] e gisla fave f odu Ss cle sl onate *° what God hath od ,’ and that august body is equally uncritical with respect to what adultery, both according to scripture and common sense, means. When any joining becomes abhorent to the feelings which almighty power has implanted in man, to at- pt to force the continuance | of such joining, under the plea f authority from such power, 1s mos t atrocious, and ‘‘ Jesus,” or whoever spoke in his name, thus rationally defines adultery: fae ’ Ep aiee are cy eee eye ge ae . aine,” by G. Vale, is published at theyoffice of - 771.4 hoe corn as ” iis Life of Thomas P: ‘ ; that most able advocate of free disscussion, the ‘‘ Boston Investigator. ’ ee EAL eT ray! re * > es a % * 4 Ad Bs aa a TTLitattt eT > oh ot Sided ee ret thee’ | 4 | Bee4 PERIOD FIRST. pa afttarher 7’ & Tosns” di ‘Whoso looketh on a woman to lust after her. Fesuc’’ de +$ ATS ] ac 17 Y not condemn the woman, who, under pressure of legal restric tion, committed the “ very act” of adul demn her accusers, in the severest and most cul possible. . ee We have already shown the utter disregard which the tery; but he did con sing manne! supposed almighty father of Jesus showed—tor monogamic - tharriage; that he did not even respect vested rights in the ®-onnection: that-he who is believed to have said—“‘ be ye per- fect even as I am perfect,” trampled on the marital rules xecording to oe the poor carpenter, Joseph, had been be oe to his Mar ‘ Tow well the son of Mary followed in the footste vf his ¢ ) L Bo As aD ee ge Vee ee A Ant naman “- aa 5 Ada ahty” father, we have already demonstrated; and | } oe v F aN cele VT Tae le | 1 ee ph fe 7 shall close all L have TO say on the supposed qa1lv1n UY OF 4 li Li subject, by ca Ing the attention Of the reader to the high 1 e } ” ; * 7 cats i aah 7 1 ee 1 me spect which ‘ Jesus se ae to the woman who had pd fi 7 i ae z . 7 + ey 5 Lr er od hie oe h es a oe husbands, and who was, at the time he did her the honour ¢ cCOnVerse eee her in public, and to even expound is LISS] He) her, cohal LTINS W ith aman to whol sne was not married. Nothing in scripture is plainer, than that Jesus was such an out and out free-lover in principle, as to hold that as soon as married people looked on others than each other with lustful eyes, they were nections Bioutd aie place to new ones. In the perfect state which “Jesus” in his parabolical language called ‘“‘ Heaven,” he explicitly das in reference to what the old fogies of his time called marriage, “that they neither marry nor are siven in marriage;” and if “the Saviour” said this in dee batioa of the rane slight bondage which encumb narriage in Judea, eighteen hundred years ago, what see ie say were he to visit © paiebes idom at the present time 1 Wouldn’t he make the “whip of small cords” with whic he thrashed the money changers, whiz about the ears of those legislators and judges, who dare christen their tyrannical and abominable inventions—marriage ! who have the audacity to attribute their wretched expedients and stupid blunders to eternal wisdom ? So much as to the scriptural view of marriage. For infor- mation as to the effects of “legal marriage” in the cure of licentiousness, and in promoting the welfare of children, con- sult the records of prostitution, the alms-house registers, and } y 7? 1 1 ae a } ae 1 7 ae ho longer So, legally 5 Dut that thei old co} edPERIOD FIRST. 15 the swarms of beggars, by which you are continually impor- 4 tuned. As to the effect of the “holv bonds” on domestic fexicity, I verily believe that if they were suddenly and com- pletely severed, the dealers in a who happened to have but little stock on hand, would bless their luc ky stars And I speak from a a of the causes which nee tavorably or unf: ect the human organism, in saying, at if the unnatural tie which arrogates the name of marria: re, was universally severed. } U } t i 4} ’ on + , . that 16 1s perfectly certain, t suicide would diminish one-ha f idiocy and insa nity woul eo ‘ usappear, proiapsus uterl and hysteria would be almost un EMBR OMERICAN fy ‘ £ ani 4 PAN Loui Nai? { LAOUVLUULIOTIAIIST.. fe j ° 7 7 P7191 nNro 1 2 SOCIE IPO aAN } wpa lane tnNé 1 hw church est iInos lore rae LUI } Ke : lts T Ut he spoils ara el ce whole power of the majority to clared that “to the victors belo right to bind the minority in all case 7 lessness is in complete contrast with tl i Britain pays to the interests of her and peculation in offiee, it out-doe y ng le regard ‘ ; \ > subjects: and } o Aust y i oye Fos Tlanh des tyran EVOL S Whatsoever. Nn HIS DEPARTURE FOR FRANCE: TION LiUOLN, Vayda bee NIL } ay kee ' an txy } S Gistinguishine characteristi the tralt wi Ol His greatness—was his canahbij ty OL belno Ol his time. Were he bodily present now. would be as far j : advance of the miserable sham of free, to which the major- Siig : 1 ? " ityism which he advocat a, tnougen } Islonaily ne sary, has } . 1 7 " 1 . } . dwindled, as he was in advance of the gover tal exnedient hi ra} ' reha i th 1 oy ’ fh , . } . bs ] ( - whicn reached the sta Or eleveness in his aay. ", £NG GPs Ie ee ee et ‘ : eae oat bry , ,s SiS, Instead of commen: ins with “ these are the times tha try men souls,” would begin with “These are the times that = ook : Lew inca cde ee ») : . a exhaust mens power of endurance. Demagocgism. W ith the hh taxation. OT ism itself.PERIOD SECOND. Fy Majorityism has carried its insolence so far as to desnice nothing so much as the name and memory of him who risked his life, his honor, his all, to protect its infancy; it has scorn- fully refused his portrait a place on the walls of the very hall which once rang with popular applause of the eloquence which his soul-stirring pleas for elective franchise | A mnaenirad ” Inspired, COO Anas ; a ay 2 + . ; . , . corr Yes; the city council of Philadelphia has. in L859. j u LOxr : b + j ‘oO er tlh ¢ ve > ~ ] ‘ aide 1} he + - ° obedience to the commands or that public opinion, which was +] awa ake Ce et j 2 fh, ae > ait ; the court of last appeal, of him who frst, on this continent. eS ‘Nash wa pie a ry Ae! ; ‘ = : FE ; dared pronounce the words American Inde} endence, refused his portrait a place by the side of his iaeteian ' flip I LUlalt a WiaCe DY Line Ss1iae Ort nis ulustrious Cco-wW orkers: thus rebuking, and most impudently insulting Washi (S J “~ ake ha who in an ecstacy of admiration grasped the hand of the « a i g = = of ‘Common Sense,’ and invited him to share his table } val I 10m: 7" bas convee thom: ao hetgike. Dace adit vk Sen Ree OU he was dearer than a brother; Barlow. who pronounced him a + 1 : *; 1 . Hranklin, who invited him to our shores; Lafayette, to v ‘one of the most benevolent and disinterested of mankind ;’ lhomas Jefferson, who sent a government ship to reconduct } ; Y ce a 1 oe a na « nim to our shores; and all the friends of popular suffrage in | ; | - France, who, at the time th: tried men’s souls there, elected him to their national councils. ‘Like the Turkish despot who cut off the head and blotted V out of existence the family of his prime minister, to whom he owed the preservation of his throne, majorityism has crowded the name of its chief apostle almost out of the history of its rise.” “Freedom of speech, particularly on religious subjects, and é rat on the government’s pet project, is a myth; every seventh day the freedom of action is restricted to going to church, dozing away the time in the house, taking a disreputable stroll, or venturing on a not strictly legal ride. We have nothing like the amount of individual freedom which is enjoyed by the men and women of imperially governed France; and notwithstand- ing the muzzling of the press by Louis Napoleon, there could be published within the very shade of the Tuileries, a truer and more liberal history of Democracy and its leaders, and of American Independence, than any considerable house, except the one from which this emanates, dare put forth, within the vast area over which the star-spangled banner waves, “This is but a tithe of the despotism which public opinion, free to be formed by priests, and directed by demagogues, has inflicted: but a faint view of how abominably prostituted 2 PEE ETS TEU re rere se err ’ 6 ia rs . A ory ey Set tis heen hee i APES SSE Zt Peeosedy + ** fad18 PERIOD SECOND. liberty must inevitably become, if unregulated by sclence. 4 1 there was in it- democracy has not exhausted all the gooa majorityism has not become effete, and as obnoxious ever was—in short, if what is 02 tla liberty, tO Progress as monarchy is not slavery, there is not such a Cine as slavery on the earth.” a gee acs Din At ie close of the year 1775, when the American hevo { ° 1 ; 5 : . s } : se Fa a : } lution had progressed as far as the battles of 4 sexXington anda Dp 7 TT ?7 + A ea > Ro, ch ok eee } Bunker Hill, John Adams, Benjamin Ru sh. Benjamin Frank 2 ® VAT as eee ee E ae, ] | lin, ana George Washington, had met Raeathel to read the terrible despatches they had received. Having done waich 1 Aya) : yause in gloom and silence. Presently Fra nklin speaks they { cW hat,” he asks, “is to be the end of : ull this? Is it to obtain justice of Great Britain, to change the ministry, to soften tax? Or is it for’—— He pases the word independence yet choked the bravest throat that ; sought to utter it. At this critical moment, Paine ee Franklin introduces him, and he takes his seat. He well knows the cause of the PrPeauine. 2 cloom, and breaks the deep silence thus: ‘‘ These States of ae must be inde pendent of England. That iS the only solution of this question ! They all rise to their feet y a at this political blasphemy. But, mothe daunted, he goes on; his eye lights up with patriotic fire as he paints the glorious destiny which America, considering her vast resources, ought to achieve, and adjures them to lend their influence to rescue the Western a isut from the absurd, unnatural, and unpro gressive predicament of being governed by a small island, three thousand miles off. Washington leaped forward, and taking both his hands, besought him to publish these views in a book. Paine went to his room, seized his pen, lost sight of every other object, toiled incessa ntly, and in December, 1775, the work entitled ‘‘Common Sense,” which caused the Dec laration of Independence, and brought both people and their leaders face to face with the work they had to accomplish, was sent forth on its mission. “That book,” says Dr. Rush, “burst forth from the press with an eff ct that has been rarely produced by types and paper, in any age or country.” } ‘Have you seen the pamphlet, ‘Common Sense?’” asked Major General Lee, in a letter to Washington; “I never saw such a masterly, irresistible performance. It will, if I mis- take not, in concurrence with the trancendent folly and wicked- mess of the ministry, give the coup-de- -GTrace to Gr eat Britain. Bae shee cei moet te te inPERIOD SECOND. 19 in short, I own myself convinced by the arguments, of the ne of sep rati 10n." Vhat si of atiaeyie ndence the pen of Paine fed with fuel ’ rT i Wit 1 om his brain when it was growine dim. We cannot overrate | s - cr ‘ ; . v3rT ° 1e ele trie hipastes: Oo] that pen, 1G one vLime Yy\ ASHING TON hou: an that his troops. dish artened, almost naked and half starved, would entirely di; band. But the Author-Hero of the Revolution was tracking their march and writing by the lich} f camp-fires the sey ies of essays ealled “The Crisis.” And vhen the veterans who still clung to the clorio IS cause ther had espoused were called together, thes I CO. ied Ocetner, Nes | . | .¥Y) @ cry $ a +] cree 7 4. ) VY ipon them: nese are the times that trv men's souls. “PF tek cOlasax ana Sc on eRe en i 23 summer soidier and l© sunshine patriot Wik Fp shrink from the service of his rd but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, uke Hell, is not easily conduered : yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.” S “These are the times that t "y men’s souls,” was the watchword at the battle of Trenton. and W ashington himself set the pen of Paine above an Ly sword wielded that da ay. But we need not dwell on the fact of Paine’s servic es and influence at this event- ful per 1od. He stood the ac knowle -dge d leader of American statemanship, and the soul of the Americ an Revolution. by the proclamation of the: EL ecislatures of all the States, and th: at of the Congress of the United States: the tribute of his greatest enemy was in these words: “The annon of W ashington was not more formidable to the British than the pen of the author of ‘Common Sense.’” A rasta less n .odesty, a little more pre- ference of himself, to hum: nity, and a good deal more of w hat ought to be common sense on the part of the ae he sought to free, and he would have been President of the U nited States ; ind America, instead of France, would have had the merit of bestowing the highest honor on the most deservi ing of mankind. If Paine had been consulted to the extent he ought to hav been, by those who modeled the r ‘public he was so instru- mental in starting into existence, our social structure would have been so founded, that it might have lasted till superseded by the immeasurahly better one to which I shall presently A ‘ llude, and to which, as [ shall show. his measures aimed. It would not now depend upon a base so uncertain that it has to be carefully sl ored up by such props as gibbets, prisons, alms- v4 4 = - i 3 ~ * 4 ~ as oY rs +o - a A ~ ri A s , “ S ed > a 7) - ~ A * ke ‘Pseiggetesie20 PERIOD SECOND. som houses, and soup-dispensing committees, in order to prevent its 5 : 7} ¥ wo a Ts oe being sapped by the hunger-driven slaves of ‘free labor,” nor would our Union be already in such danger of falling to pieces, ‘hat the cords which bind it together are as flimsy as cotton, and as rotten as are the souls of those who expose both their relicious and their political opinions for sale as eagerly as they do their most damaged goods. On the 17th of April, 1777, Congress elected Mr. Paine secretary to the committee of foreign affairs. In this | the committee that th CapaclLry, ry 1 : Hnelish he stood in the same relation to the c c + a ee . 1. Naan ot ¢ 7 xy« secretary for foreign afiairs dia to the ' abinet, and it was not from vanity, but in order to preserve the dignity of the new sovernment under w hich he acted, that he claimed the bith which was bestowed on the British minister, who performed a function corresponding to his own, “The Crisis” is contained in sixteen numbers; to notice which, separately, would involve a history of the American Revolution itself. In fact, they comprise a truer history otf that event than does any professed history of it yet written They comprise the soul of it, of which every professed history 1s destitute. A disgrace which this country can never wipe out. In January, 1779, Paine resigned his secretaryship, in con- sequence of a misunderstanding which had taken place between him and Congress, on account of one Silas Deane. In the early part of the war, it appears that Deane had been supplies, either as a loan from the French government, or, i he failed in this, to purchase them. But before entering on the duties of his office, Dr. Franklin and Mr. Lee were added to the mission, and the three proceeded to Paris for the sam: purpose. The French monarch, more perhaps from his hostility to the English government, than from any attachment to the American cause, acceded to the request; and the supplies were immediately furnished. As France was then upon amicable terms with England, a pledge was given by the American com missioners that the affair should remain a secret. The supplies were accordingly shipped in the name of a Mr. Beaumarchai: and consigned to an imaginary house in the United States. Deane, taking advantage of the secresy which had been promised, presented a claim for compensation in behalf of himself and Beaumarchais; thinking that the auditing committee would prefer comphance to an exposure of their ally, the king of employed as an agent in France, tor the purpose of obtaining ;PERIOD SECOND. 21 France, to a rupture with England. Mr. Paine, perceiving the trick, aiid knowing the circumstances of the dae tesokesd on laying the transaction before the public. He accordingly wrote for the newspapers several essays, under the title of “Common Sense to the Public on Mr. Deane’s Affairs,” in which he exposed the dishonest designs of Deane. The business. in ee” soon became a subject of general conversation : the demand was rejected by the auditing committee, and Deane soon afterwards absconded to Eneland. For this piece of service to the Americans. Paine was res and applauded by the people; but by this time a party had begun to form itself, whose principles, if not the reverse ot indlaeser } dence, were the reverse of republicanism. These men had co envied the popularity of Paine, but from their want of means to check or control it, they had hitherto remained silent. An opportunity was now offered for venting their spleen. Mn Paine, in exposing the trickery. of Deane, had incautiously mentioned one or two circumstances that had come to his know- ledge in consequence of his office; this was magnified into a breach of confidence, and a plan was immediate ly formed for depriving him of his situation; accordingly, a Oe was made for an order to bring him before congress. Mr. Paine readily attended ; and on being asked whether the ee in question were written by him, he replied that they were. He was then directed to withdraw. As soon as he had left the ] house, a member arose and moved: ‘‘ That Thomas Paine be discharged from the oflice of secretary to the committee on foreign affairs ;” but the motion was lost upon a division. Mr. Paine then wrote to congress, requesting that he might be heard in his own defence, and Myr. Lawrence made a motion for that purpose, which was negatived. The ne oe day he sent in his resignation, concluding with these words : ‘‘ As I cannot, consistently with my character as a freeman, submit to be censured unheard ; therefore, to preserve that character and maintain that right, I think it my duty to resign the office of secretary to the committee for foreign affairs; and I do hereby resign ne same.” This conduct on the part of the congress may, in some degree, be attributed to a desire to quiet the fears of the French am- bassador, who had become very dissatisfied in consequence of its being known to the world that the supplies were a present from his master. To silence his apprehension, and preserve the friendship of the French court, they treated Paine with ingra- RODEO Tero re ere rey 34 2 4 « 7 3 F +: oye Sahat hod debetehaiah ak ar Yaa Ob es LA Pe be) Eo se ae 99 PERIOD SECOND. titude. This they acknowledged at a future ee riod by a grant of which I shall have occasion to speak in its proper place. a Paine was now de prived of the means ¢ A. Phineas a liveli- a 7 7 . ‘ eM raea o Dat doe etn aa 9} ‘cc aybhser hood ‘ and pelng averse to rendering his liter ary labors a / , 1 : iL wir to I¥ vient to his personal wants, he engaged himself as clerk to M Biddle, an attorney at Phila delphi produced no change in Mr I’ r S “iF oS he ingratitude of Paine’s patriotism. On every occasion, he continued to display) > . } = aA sac aac hich h ' the same deores or independence and resoluciton, Wihicl Nad < oa y* "YT } a \ , ” Ria u ce } oO \ 1? first animated him in favor or the repubdiican Cause ’ Oily 1 1f ae \ ‘ Ch enlisted himself as a volunteer in the American cau: Dé . ° . 2 4 7 5 : c a are ae 17 1 vindicated her rights under every change of circumstance, wit! 7 unabated ardor. In a2 communication made many years aiterwards to Uneel ham (who would have contradicted 1t, could he naye don without stating what everyone would immediately know to “JT served in the army the whole of the ‘time that tried men’s souls,’ from the beginning to the end.” Soon after the declaration of independence, July cONeTESS recommended that a body or ten thousand men, to be called the flying camp, because 1 should be formed from the militia and volunteers ot oh rsey, Py oe rly Was tO act W herever necessary ania, and Maryland. I went with one division from See rae, gover General Roberdeau. We were stationed at Perth Amboy, and afterwards at Bergen; and when the tim of the fying camp » expired, and they went home, Iwent to Fort Lee, an 3 - 4 ™ } ] j l served as aide-de-camp to Greene, who commanded at ao a eee Fort Lee, and was with him through the whole of the black times of pe trying campaign. i pie CU eta nine with +] I began the first number of the ‘ Crisis,” beginning with the WwW 1 xT aw Vatets s » aca « the mes ee, tru nN an’ ¥ ell-know Li € xX} EC ssion, 1 1e8e are LE time x LLiAat ul y iilt i «mala ? ~ + T 17 Clas rPAT PAO t RAN q yt T 4 an } SOULS, at Most ar re Boas the retreat Irom tort Lee, ana iti at every place we stopped at, and had i i Philadelphia, the 19th of December, six days before 4 - yeient ‘Qe . z Stara a cept a siee, art fe \ he taking the Hessians at Trenton, which, with the affair at . . . saps Tis iets pe ; } 1 Eh A eee ? Princeton, the week after, put an end to the black times. cy etse oS - CL. 7 ‘ ee . ‘ an . 7 l : 1 e Soon after the resionation of his secretaryship, he was < « I le Se Licwee C.5r> . She : TEs wrk wid lecislature of Pennsylvania, ‘This appoint cM Sis 1 eae chosen clerk of the ment 1S a proot friends : and that the malicious insinuations of the former had ie 1 - TAR 7 “ Ba ene ek | = ws dies nov been able to weaken the attachment of the latter, | moe } ] ia : ater! ey ] sae lat, Paoned | ne nag some enemies, ne had manyPERIOD SECOND. 93 In February, 1781, Paine, at the earnest solicitation of Colonel Laurens, accompanied him to France, on a mission which the. former had himself set on foot, which was, to ob- tain of the French Government a loan of a million sterling annually during the war. This mission was so much more successful than they expected, that six millions of ] ot livres as a present, and ten millions as a loan was the resu lt. They : leh T ! 7 . ° e iled from Brest, at the beginning of J a ie « : : ‘a . Boston in August, having under their charge 4 \ half in silver, and a Ship and a brig laden with clot hing aa S military stores Before going to Fy ance, aS just narrated, Paine headed a private subscription list, with the sum of five hundred dollars, all the money he could raise; and the nobleness of his conduct so stimulated the munificence of others, that the subscriptions amounted res the generous sum of three hundred thousand pounds. Soon after the war of Independence had been brought to Ui ; betan | tke ta cag yf g Oe ] fo ee a successtul termi LATION, IVEY, Paine 1 returned to Bordentow ny, in New Jersey, where he had a smal] property. Washington, rationally fearing tnat one so devoted and generous might be . ) t +t, moct gq wR hy . ‘ YT - eae } bd circumstance 5S HOt the Most Tour ING, wrote to him the Rocky Hi, Se l0th, 1783, aoe n : 4. I have learned, since I have been at this place, that you are at Bordentown. Whether for the sake of retirement or econ- yy, | know not. Be it for either. for both. or whatever it i may, if you will eome to this place and partake with me, I shall De exceedingly happy to see you at ite Your presence may remind ¢ Ongress of your past services to this coun ry: and 3 4G a in my power to impress them, command my best exertions with freedom. as they will be rendered cheerfully by one who entertains 2 lively sense of the importance ef your works, and who, with much pleasure, subscribes himself Your sincere friend, G. WASHINGTON. mn 1735, congress, on the report of a committee consisting Mr. Gerry, Mr. Petit, and Mr. King, Resolved, That the board of treasury take order for paying to Mr. Thomas Paine the sum of three thousand dollars, - e or * » te a so] oy z 4 * Py ere tee . Ps dh Fh Py Sirere yorrye tase * hee24 PERIOD SECOND. This, however, was not a gratuity, although it took that shape. It was but little if any more than was due Mr. Paine. in consequence of the depreciation of the continental money in which his salary as secretary of the committee of foreleg: affairs had been paid. Mr. Paine had resolved not to make any application to tl congress on the score of his literary labors; but he had sever: friends in the provincial assem iblies who were gaan ened tha his exertions should not pass unrewarded. Through thei influence, motions in his favor were brought before the legis lature of Pennsylvania and the assembly of New York; th former gave him £500, and the latter the confiscated estate 0! a Mr. Frederick Devoe, a royalist. This estate, situated New Rochelle, consisting of more than three hundred acres o land in a high state of cultivation, with a spacious and elegaz stone house, beside extensive out-buildings, was a valuabl acquisition; and the readiness with which it was granted, i proof of the high estimation in which Mr. Paine’s services were held by one of the most opulent and powerful states in the Union. : In 1786, he published at Philadelphia, his ‘ Dissertations on Corcrment? “The Affairs of the Bank,” and “ Paper- Money.” ‘The bank alluded to was the one which had been established some years before, under the name of the “ Bank of North America,” on the capital of the three hundred thou sand pounds, which resulted from the epics which Paine headed with five hundred dollars, as a as already been stated ; which aks al of ae what anks now are,- pores et ‘tall pee a cat use is ee cause of our national independence. Paine advocated a paper currency when it was of use, instead of being an abuse: in his davs i! helped to secure national independence, instead of subjectine the country, as it now does, to a servitude to the interests of England, which could she have foreseen. it is elaine whether even British pride would not have so succum] koe British avarice, that not a gun would have been fired. or a sword drawn against us. England could have afforded ee om us aS Many pounds for subjecting ourselves as we have done to her interests, as it cost her pennies to vainly attempt to pre- vent us from doing this. It is hichly worthy of remark, that APERIOD SECOND, 25 Paine opposed giving even the independence promoting Bank of North America, a perpetual charter. At this time Mr. Paine was highly popular, and enjoyed the esteem and friendship of the most literary, scientific, and patriotic men of the age TSCCRSIERE OPERAS OK Le o S “% a ms e d # a at a aT re Ree DE LS ober k Sd bisiveverseePERIOD THIRD. PERIOD THIRD. Mr. Pane cors To Evrorr. His REevoturionNARY MOVEMENTS IN ENG- LAND. IS ELECTED A MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY OF FRANCE. TAKES AN ACTIVE PART IN THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. HIS DEATH, THE BHOCEES wl 1ad crowned Mr. _Paine’s ex¢ rtions in America, ma le him. re sel to try the effects of his influence in the poll citadel of the foes of liber: ul pr rinciple Sin government, whose out-posts he a ad stormed. As Avie ica no tite needed his aid, he 7 solved to attack the English government at home; + to free En igl ed herself Accordingly, in April, 17 87, he sailed from the United States for France, and arrived in Paris after a short passage. His knowledge of mechanics and natural philosophy had pro- eured him the honor of being admitted a member of the Ameri- can Philosophical Society ; he was also admitted Master of Arts by the University of £ hilade Iphia. These honors, though not of much consequence in themselves, were the means of introducing him to some of the most scientific men in Franc ce, and soon after his arrival he exhibited to the Adademy of Sciences, the mode! of an iron bridge which had occupied much of his leisure tims during his residence in America, This model received the un qualified approbation of the Academy, and it was afterwards adopted by the most scientific men of England. From Paris Mr Paine proceeded to London, where he arrived on the third of September. Before the end of that month h went to Thetford to see his mother, who was now borne dow by age, and was, besides, in very straightened circcmstance: ie father, it appears, had died during his absence Hestatod to the place of his birth to Sate the wants of | surviving i ent. He led a recluse sort of life at Thetford f several weeks, being principally occupied in writing a pamph PRY) Ft > and he 11s rOlPERIOD THIRD. 27 let on the state of the nation. under the title of “ Prospects on Ais > wn ? mi: : 11°.7 ; ‘ rk ees the Rubicon.” This was puolished in London, toward the end or the year 1787. Uuring the year 1788, Mr. Paine was principolly oceupied in J y Pe free: eT Se ts 1 yet building his bridge. For this purpose he went to Rotherham . ty , . . = ern in Yorkshire, in order that he micht have an o superintending its ry S tiation > Ty | | : Sa Lhe situation of France nad now become of great interest to Iron Casvlnoes, : . ee ; a ] vr Bee : ‘ ie : zi : all Kurope, ANG ivi’, Falne was 1n the confidence ot the chief actors 1n the | Ling dom, the Scene ( whic tL nad h fted tyr } ne lan l or W ash No LON to the ( hit | Vette The I nen r’¢ eculiarly si nsitiv e to the sl itts of ridicule: and V oltai taki ya WISE a ly intace O; this. had mace such good use hy 5. ql e W it tha ay th pI teratt and statecratt ‘ in 1O Prot oa ie ; | wa peed ok 1 Pe : had become ra her absurd than 1 ectabie in the estimation of c ' ] a “| , mid eave ] 1 | } . 7 1 ° the higher orders of those who held both their wealth and their positions undael such patronage. | i mn) T° ao ID 1} 3 ] } } 1) 5 {iT 7 e t « nari , i t- 4ywr Lie Wrltines oO} the EDDe Ravnal Nada Imoued the frrencn 21 ; ; a ‘ ey v4 : | Wl1tn respect fol ru NAVUL A rionts O© humanity, and econse- quently Wlth ¢ mtempti and abnorrence for the vested rights of 4 : ‘ : 1 as as ! : | a 754 ' , tyrants; and the writings of that great apostle of liberty. Rous v ] ] . 7 7 eC se€au, h Qa i0nge peen preparing the way. 15 Hrance . Lor what , | ° 7 7 ve 4 7 ot . ic . z nd Ra . 1 . - those Oj Ine nad etected in America: In LAC: Rousseau Was - é¢ i ] ; ? e 4 ita. »} Revoluti . TAO he author nero Ol tne Lrencn KeVOLUtLION : and it WasS More / | { <4 . : |} { a : a! owing to his pen, than to anything else, that the views of ths eo ce i itu, 1 a ee ite peopi Ol Mrance SO ailmerea from tnose OT LOCIE FULers: that. whilst the latter, in assisting America to throw off the British 1 ] } Ze 1] el -~ th cXy , 17 na ha yitatine voke. looked no further than the weakening and ft umiliating Or . a Enel n |. the former approved Of, and sustainea tne measure, as Initliatory to the aestruction Of monareny itselt. pened furnished a elntorcement to the popular cause, and in hout all Fra Lo TN Pai ark Tused LUS iD lpit nroucsnout All rance. VED. aine remayl se L 1 Ce ‘ . ° ony sig pe eee “4 . ann 11 VAS IInpOss1b1e to separate the milztary events which os 2 e a i ° ° } an LI ’ : . took place in America from the principles of the American * That Encyclopedia of wit and wisdom, Voltaire’s ‘‘ Philosophical Dic- tionary,” is published by Mr. J. P. Mendum, at the office of the ‘ Boston Investigator.” rm A : ‘ CLAS eat ly c } ik tain Le 1 } Che return trom America or tne troops or Latavyette had POLIT Terie et ere. * . on ° a os b a] s a} aL TLitatit et cs Ps “yo tabeee+ “ot Soetereee28 PERIOD THIRD. revolution, the publication of those events in France necessarily connected themselves with the principles that produced them. Many of the facts were in themselves principles ; such as the Declaration of American Independence, and the treaty of alliance between France and America, i recognized the natural rights of man, and justified resistence to oppr ession. This is the proper place to show that neither Paine, Rousseau, nor Voltaire are at all chargeable with the abominations which have been perpetrated, both in America and France, in the name of liberty ; and that our ‘scurvy politicians’ have nomore business to spout their impudent clap-trap in the name of the principles advocated by the author of “The Rights of Man,” than Marat, St. yuBhs and ail had to mouth Rousseau. Nothing is plainer, than that the two great moving minds in the Amert- can and French revolutions aimed at the practical actualization of liberty. Had Rousseau awoke from the dead at the time of the French Revolution,—‘‘ What!” he would have exclaimed “Do you take carnage to be what I me ant by the state of mature?” “Miscreants!” Paine would thunder in the ears of our rulers, were he now to visit the land over which the star- spangled banner waves. “Is elective franchise to end in majority-despotism and spoils? Do you think I mean caucus trickery, election frauds, ‘office gambling, corruption,—in short demagogism, when I said Sree government? ‘““Are my teachings to be estimated from the’ stand- point where ’tis difficult, if not impossible to determine whether ‘ free laborers’ or ‘slaves’ have the most uncomfortable time of it? In the name of ‘Common Sense,’ I protest against your gross misrepresentation of me. The contempti ible knave and fool game which you are playing in the name of liberty, is but the Faeh step of ‘the Jorward one towards freedom, which I helped mankind to take. Call you your miserable hotch-potch of spent supernaturalism and worn out absolution, what I meant by freedom? You might as well calla rotting heap of building materials, which some architect, whose skill was far in advance of his time, had not lived long enough to put together according to his de slgn, the edifice which he intended. “Ye infidels,* who meanly and hypocritically r sneak for * I wish it to be particularly observed, that T give the term *“infidels,” ae much more extendedsensethan that which itis spopularly supposed to convey,PERIOD THIRD. 29 patronage under the shreds and tatters of the worn out cloak of the « hureh 1, OF who quit the ranks of superstition, only to waste Vy ‘our energies over an old soe which T completely e masculated t lived to discover that I had mistaken a prominent sympton i the disease I sought to cure) ; or to dispute and wranek over mere speculative albstraaticre. or at most, to eat and drink and dance. and talk in memory of me, every twenty-nintl of January, when it does os fae on a Sunday. In oe on my name, and looking backward in unavailing admiration of wh: a ? did, instead of pushi ung ahead and carrying on the work which I began, you confer no more honor on me _ thay ode rm Christians do on their “Jesus.” You are no more lik 7 t} | protestants are the true followers of t mi lan. pap ists and i Ne Phar: isee-condemning, Sabbath-breaking son of the world- famous carpenter of Galillee. ‘My religion was ‘to do good.’ Yours has thus far been to do nothing or worse than nothing. “Why do you not organize, and have your own schools, in- stead of allowing your children to be supe naturalistically educated? You allow the reasoning faculties of the scions of humanity to be completely maimed, and then blame nature because they are ‘vicious ; or, like idiots holding candles for the blind to read by, you ply them with reason, when they arrive at the age when they ought to be reasonable, but are con- firmed in folly instead. Has the freedom of the people to chose their own teachers and head their own churches, culminated in Sc hols ls, the very hot-beds of superstition, and in churches more ith, and et expensive to the state, sub tl Lome ° intima el y connec ted Wl 3 than the Catholic ch Lure h ope rel ly Hf) even in F ‘Why do you not elevate woman, instead of letting your : J ‘ aa TrOSa daughters grow up under the influence of the priests? Why do you so stubbornly cling to that immaculate abortion ; that most pestifer ous effluvia of supernaturalism ; that quintessence of malice ; that thickest fog that ever darkened the understanding ; that strong-hold of all that is arbitrary; that refinement of cruelty ; neh pasts diesen of epson eee absurdit ys = nO political eitel m W hy ae dike your opponents, still appealing to that most fallible of all guides,—-conscience? And in the name of all that is intelligil sle, what good is there in that chronic suicide which you outdo even supernaturalists i in lauding as virtue’ Besides, has ‘ virtue,’ notwithstanding all the pains tea Rett eer eae ee a » ha . z 4 P| * eh ehh ee rhelugeeeeeei Seti hens 3 30 PERIOD THIRD. taken with it, and all the hot-house fostering that that plant has received, grown a hair’s breadth since the remotest ages? “Why has not how to, long since superset led ought to? “ Abandon, I beseech you, ‘that inflicter of martyrdom ; that s rae . - i paper ats é eee as ke ae watchword of Robespierre, a und of the most relentless tyrants that ever tortured human it —p7 LneCUp é. Let the science and erent: we art of goodness take its Ses “The severest and most persistent scourges of the human race are, and ever have been, men and women of principle. 145 ee i ha Bren probed tomde mont Do haciiarrs was Her LIlEY Cannowu DE CVer IT TOCA Oa fis ° ELU VCE t C I Wan // f 17 } ce k.. ) J 7 = excellence, ‘the incorruptible and so was Marat ie ee aA awe ak Tey at eR a Saga ‘Principle is the very bed of Proc ustes. Principle is the a ~ i ge diseuise in which the ‘angel of darkness’ appears so like ai ‘angel of light,’ as to deceive, thus far, all but ‘the very elect. It partially deceived even me. But I had not your means of detecting the cheat. In my day it had not been, as it recently has been, demonstrated that man’s will, aided by the force of all that is intelligible fully dev elope od and harmoniously and most adv vantageously combined, is the measure of his power, and of nature’s resources ; that well doing, to any extent worth naming, requires nothing more, and nothing less, than sucl force, such development, and such combination; that to pro eress, there is no obstruction, even to the unfriendliness of climate, which is not, through human heart, working with, in, and through nature, removeable. “In my time, it had not been shown (as it recently has been, to a mathematica demonstration) that the only possible way to make people good, is to create the requisite materialistic conditions; and that therefore the most stupid of blunders- the most ‘aerial of cruelties is punishment. “You affect to love science. Make it loveable. Raise it to the dignity of the highest law, or religion; make it the basis of government; and thus avail yourselves of its whole use, instead of the little benetit you derive from its ‘ beggarly elements.’ “Patiently discover, instead of recklessly and vainly ‘enact ing laws; scientifically develop, and artistically combine the whole force of physical nature, and the whole power of ee Assist nature, whose head you are, to create, till supply is adequate to demand; till creation is complete ; till harmony is in exact proportion to present antagonism; till no obstacle stands between man and perfect goodness, perfect freedom, and perfect and sufficiently lasting happiness. Thus, alone, canPERIOD THIRD. 3 you eliminate that synonym for ignorance— —mystery, and its wer Bes WCE, “waNtue,’ -moralism: vsbael utism, demayogism, CRB Ee ngs aaa 4 , Lt you love ,Aahna wo Lid tru] V honor me, as ef Jorward accord ing to the spirit, and not back, ward, according to the /etter, of what | taught. Let onward to pe rfection be your motto. ‘* Your numbers are suffi lent, aS you would see if you would stand out; you are far from poor, on the average, and vou nciude nearly all the learned and scientific; but you are some how or other so averse LO Organizing and becoming an se 1 ; rit] ‘ hoad La +4 iio. ! ms 17 . 3 body, with a head, that like tne mutually suspicious e1lghty = : A ese Fe i 1 oc VOT) millions of tn } nom a few well reculated Britigh verms, you suffer your even half organized foes to tramp le your rights under foot. when if you wou ld organize selfish scientific and artistic basis. your own rights, and those of all secured. Down with that IANS. to W troops dictate I on an intellicible, TRU your fellow- “nen would be barricade of ] hypocrisy,— principle. Liberty, goodness, in short. h: appiness, can be nothing Jess than the crowning art. “Instead of admitting, as you do, that natnre e ought to have & Supernatur: al guardian or he lper (inasmuch as you admit that she is incompetent to supply more than a'tithe of the satisfac- tion which her wants, as manifested through her highest organism, man call for), why do you not meet the question, as it alone can be met, by demonstrating that man no more really wants or needs absolutely eternal self-consci ‘Lousness, than the infant really wants or needs the moon for a ba ae when he stretches forth his hand to grasp it, and w eeps at his failure. But that what man re: lly does want, nature, through science, art, development, can give ? Can’t you see that what 1 man: 1n reality means by perfect and ‘eternal’ happiness, is, perfect and sufficiently- lasting happiness? and that nature mast furnish this, or prove a failure which would amount to a greater absurdit: y than ‘supernaturalism’ itself2 Do you not see that for man to even desire any thing really beyond nature, is to prove ‘supernaturalism.’ Mind, I have said desvre ; ion man cannot conceive of, and therefore cannot desire the annihila tion of duration and space.. He cannot really wish for h: ppl- ness without its conditions; if it came merely at his bidding, — if he could believe himself into Heaven, or vote himself ¢r both Heaven and freedom would pall on the appetite as soon as tasted. eA Pee eee eos tee) * . . a a Pa * * : : * ve N a 4 - os 2 7 a rn +PERIOD THIRD. “ Had I lived at the time when Humboldt scanned nature 1 when Feuerbach demonstrated th ism,’ and showed the all-importance and practical significancy 6 e naturalness of ‘supernatura! 2 : 5 ° ° . . . a ie. ; eee Sg te Te “e of man’s instinctively inaugurating his abstract subjectivity of ; 1 > 5 ; > ‘ 7 t ce 1 . , h, almighty; when Comte showed the connection, and proved th unity of all science; when Fourier discovered the equitabl ans ° } oy oes Tey : SES fe oh Pies) | relations which should exist between labor, capital, and skull, 3 T i ° 7 i } > . _ at ana which, sooner or later, must displace tne present unn wUura!l : : Tce Poe mE 5 ced et and ruinous ones; had I lived when it had been demonstrated that nature is all sufficient; that science, art,—development, vell prove adequate to all the requirements of miracle; that 4} { 1 1 : : : ? Visa at ye 9714 \ Ll« bne Nionest aSpiratlons Or natures nignest organism, man, - 4 eae 2 r - } ++ . 1c ) nta io «| , t ] indicate the perrection to which nature 18S Spontaneously tend : : 4 ’ Es ‘ | : j age Bs a : ine, and which she must attain to; that the business of man is to discover how to fully gratify all ons which nature the pass has implanted in him (instead of trying to contrive how to mortify, repress, and overcome nearly all, and by far the best of them); how to live, till he has rung, so to speak, all the changes possible on his five senses, till the repetition becomes irksome; had I enjoyed the advantages derivable from all this, your steam engines, steam printing presses, sewing machines, and all other machines, and your electric teleer should have had its match in social science and art; you should, aph, even, by this time, have had a religion self evidently true, and a system of law necessarily just; and the whole world should have been far advanced towards becoming a state spontaneously free.” Reader, considering how very far ahead of his time, it wa: the distinguishing characteristic of the author of the * Rights of Man” and “The Age of Reason” to be, is it too much to suppose that, were he alive now, he would talk thus, except far more eloquently, beyond all question? Would not he wl LO made but two steps from the government of priests, kings and lords, to the people’s right to be their own church and their own governmont, have found out, before now, the means of escaping from demagogism? As one who is not prepared to admit that liberty is an empty name, that happiness at all answering to that which man desires, is an impractibility, | respectfully submit that he would. And 1 scorn the Suppo sition that he would degrade himself, and the cause he espoused, so far as to make the pitiable and lying excuse which the betrayers of mankind offer in behalf of “ free institutions,” —PERIOD THIRD. 30 that they are 2p worse than those, to escape from which, both earth and ocean have been reddened with human blood, and strewn with the ashes and the wrecks of human industry. Our “free institutions” have come to be so much worse than those confessedly despotic, that it is only the superior natwral advantage, which our country enjoys, that has thus far pre- served even their name. The proper or natural functions of popularism are but tran- sitional. The instant it is undertaken to erect democraey into a permanency, it dwindles to a most pitiable imitation—to a blundering re-enacting, under false names, of the worn out measures of the religion and politics, from which it is legiti- mately but a protest and a departure. It thus becomes so exceedingly corrupt and morbitic, that the social organism, to protect itself from utter dissolution, is forced to reject it, and return again under its old regime. And nothing short of the religion and government of science can furnish an outlet from this vicious circle. Mr. Paine again left France for England, in Nov. 1790, hav- ing witnessed the destruction of the Bastile, and been an atten- tive observer, if not an active adviser, of the revolutionary proceedings which had taken place during the preceding twelve months. On the 13th of March, 1791, Mr. Jordan, No. 166 Fleet street, published for him the first part of “The Rights of Man.” This work was intended to arouse the people of England to a sense of the defects and abuses of their vaunted system of govern- ment; besides which, it was a masterly refutation of the false- hoods and exaggerations of Edmund Burke’s celebrated “ Re- flections on the Revolution in France.” About the middle of May, Mr. Paine again went to France. This was just before the king attempted to escape from his own dominions. On the occasion of the return of the fugitive mon- arch, Mr. Paine was, from an accidental circumstance, in con- siderable danger of losing his life. An immense concourse of people had assembled to witness the event. Among the crowd was Mr. Paine. An officer proclaimed the order of the national assembly, that all should be silent and covered, In an instant all except Mr. Paine, put on their hats. He had lost his cock- ade, the emblem of liberty and equality. The multitude ob- serving that he remained uncovered, supposed that he was one of their enemies, and a cry instantly arose, “Arictocrat/ Aristocrat ! 3od PERIOD THIRD. @ la lanterne / a la lanterne /” He was instructed by those who stood near him to put on his hat, but it was some time before the matter could be satisfactorily explained to the multitude. On the 13th of July, 1791, he returned to London, but it was not thought prudent that he should attend the public cele- bration of the French revolution, which was to take place on the following day. He was however, present at the meeting which was held at the Thatched House tavern, on the twentieth of August following. Of the address and declaration which issued from this meeting, and which was at first attributed to Mr. Horn Tooke, Mr. Paine was the author. Mr. Paine was now engaged in preparing the second part of the “ Rights of Man” for the press. In the mean time the ministry had received information that the work would shortly appear, and they resolved to get it suppressed if possible. Having ascertained the name of the printer, they employed him to endeavor to purchase the copyright. He began by offering a hundred guineas, then five hundred, and at length a thousand; but Mr. Paine told him, that he “would never put it in the power of any printer or publisher to suppress or alter a work of his.” Finding that Mr. Paine was net to be bribed, the ministry next attempted to suppress the work by means of prosecu- tions; but even in this they succeeded so badly, that the second part of the “ Rights of Man” was published on the sixteenth of February, 1792, and at a moderate calculation. more than a hundred thousand copies of the work were cir- culated. In August, 1792, Paine prepared a publication in defense of the “ Rights of man,” and of his motives in writing it; he entitled it ““An Address to the Addressers on the late Procla- mation.” ‘‘ This,” says Sherwin, “is one of the severest pieces of satire that ever issued from the press.” About the middle of September, 1792, a French deputation announced to Mr. Paine that he had been elected to represent the department of Calais in the National Convention. At Dover, whither he repaired, in order to embark for France, the treatment of the minions of British despotism towards the hated author of the “ Rights of Man,” was dis- graceful and mean to the last degree. His trunks were all opened, and the contents examined. Some of his papers were seized, and it is probable that the whole would have been butae ~~ PERIOD THIRD. 85 for the cool and steady conduct of their owner and his attend ants. When the custom. house officers had indulged their petty malice as long as they thought proper, Mr. Tas ne and his friends were allowed to embark, and they arrived at C ‘alais in about three hours. The E nglish-French representative, how- ver, ‘Very narrowly escaped the vigilance of the despots he had provoked, for it appears that an order to detain him was received at Dover , In about twenty minutes after his em. barkation. A salute from the batter 'Y announced to the people of Calais the arrival of the distinguished for elgner, on whom they had bestowed an honor unprecedented. His reception, both military and Civic, was what a mon- arch might well have been proud of. “The garrison at Calais were under arms to receive this friend of liberty; the tri-colored cockade wag presented to him by the mayor, and the hs andsome St woman in the town was selected to place it on his hat. This cere mony being over, he walked to Dei sissein’s, in the fue de I Egalité (formerly Awe de Roi) ), the men, women, and children, crowding around him. and shouting « Vive Thomas Paine!” He was then conducted to the tow hall, and there presented to the mun uicipality, who with the createst aecion embraced their representative. The mayor addr essed him in a short speech (which was inte) rpreted to him by his friend M. Audibert), to which Mr. Paine, laying his hand on his heart, replied that his life should be devoted to their service. At the inn he was waited upon by the authorities, and by the president of the ( onstitutional ee who desired that he would attend their mee ting that night: he cheerfully com- plied with the request, and the whole io would have been there, had there been room: the hall of the Minimes was so crowded that it was with the greatest difficulty they made w ay for Mr. Paine to the side of the president. Over the chair in which he sat were placed the bust of ] Mirabeau, and the colors . * * ad & ® = a 4 oy ® ee errge bab etoess * 'The least unfair view of Thom 1as Paine’s char meer and merits which has hitherto been found in the historical wri itings of any American author except Randall, Savage, and Vale (who quotes copiously from Sherwin), is taken by an ecclesia stic, Francis L. Hawkes, D. D., Libs. Di His" y- clope dia of Biogr: ‘phy ’ from which I have quoted above, is published 1 by the Messrs. D. Ap »pleton & Co., who also Ene lish Buckle’s “History of ( vee in England,” a work. which would have fully satisfied the author Mf the ‘‘ Ave of Reason’ * himself, had he lived to read it.36 PERIOD THIRD. of France, England and America united. A speaker from the tribune, formally announced his election, amid the plaudits of the people; for some minutes after nothing was heard but “Vive la Nation / Vive Thomas Paine,” in voices both male and female. On the following day an extra meeting was appointed, to be held in the church in honor of the new ‘deputy to the conven- tion, the Minimes having been found quite suffocating from the vast concourse of people which had assembled on the pre- vious occasion. At the theatre, on the evening after me arrl- val, a box was specially reserved for the author of the “ Rights of Man,” the object of the English proclamation. Such was the enthusiasm of the people for the “author- hero” of the American Revolution, that Mr. Paine was also elected deputy for Abbeville, Beauvais, and Versailles; but the people of Calais having been beforehand in their choice, he preferred being their representative. After remaining with his constituents a short time, he pro- ceeded to Paris, in order to take his seat as a member of the National Assembly. On the road thither he met with similar honors to those which he had received at Calais. As soon as he arrived at Paris, he addressed a letter to his fellow-citizens, the people of France, thanking them for both adopting and electing him as their deputy to the convention. Mr. Paine was shortly after his arrival in Paris, appointed a member of the committee for framing the new constitution. While he was performing the important duties of his station, the ministry of England were using every effort to counteract the (to them) dangerous principles which he had disseminated. For this purpose they filed informations against the different individuals who had sold the “ Rights of Man,” and also against the author. ‘The trial of Mr. Paine came on at Guild- hall, on the 18th of December, before that most cruel and vindictive of creatures that ever disgraced the bench of even a British court of justice, Lord Kenyon. As the judge was pensioned, and the jury packed, a verdict of guilty followed as a matter of course. Mr. Erskine’s plea for the defence was, as Mr. Paine observed, on reading a report Be oS farce which had been enacted under the name of a trial, “a good speech for himself, but a very poor defence of the ‘ Rights Of ‘Vian,’ ?* * *Psine’s work,” (the ‘‘ Rights of Man,’’]says Schlosser. in his ‘* djstoryPERIOD THIRD. 37 Seldom has the cowardice which a sense of guilt excites, reached such a panic as that into which the government of England was thrown by Thomas Paine. In France he was safe from their malice, but no less than ten individuals were prosecuted for selling his works, and by corrupted judges and packed juries, nine of the number were convicted, and severely fined or imprisoned, or both. : ‘On the first appearance of the ‘Rights of Man,’” says Sherwin, ‘the ministry saw that it inculcated truths which they could not controvert; that it contained plans, which, if adopted, would benefit at least nine-tenths of the community, and that its principles were the reverse of the existing system of gov- ernment; they therefore judged that the most politic method would be to treat the work with contempt, to represent it as a foolish and insignificant performance, unworthy of their notice, and undeserving the attention of the public. But they soon found the inefficiency of this mode of treatment ; the more contempt they showed, the more the book was read, and approved of. Finding, therefore, that their declarations of contempt were as unsuccessful as their project of buying up the work, they determined upon prosecuting the author and publisher. Mr. Paine was not at all surprised at this resolution of the ministry; indeed, he had anticipated 1t on the publication of the second part of the work, and to remove any doubt as to his intention of defending the principles which he had so effectually inculcated, he addressed the following letter to his publisher :— February 16th, L792, S1r,—Should any person, under the sanction of any kind of authority, inquire of you respecting the author and publisher of the “ Rights of Man,” you will please to mention me as the author and publisher of that work, and show to such person this letter. I will, as soon as I am made acquainted with it, appear and answer for the work personally. Your humble servant, THOMAS PAINE, Mr. JORDAN, No. 166 Fleet Street. ‘The first intimation which Mr. Paine received,” continues of the Eighteenth Century,” ‘‘made as great and as lasting an impression on certain classes in England as Burke’s did upon the great majority of the higher and middle ranks,” a - o * ~ Pi a a a) * er38 PERIOD THIRD. Sherwin, ‘of the intentions of the ministry, was on the 14tk of May, 1792. He was then at Bromly, in Kent, upon whiel: he came immediately to town; on his arrival he found that M Jordan had that evening been served with a summons to a pear at the court of King’s Bench on the M onday following, but for what purpose was not stated. Conceiving it to be on account of the work, he appointed a meeting with Mr. Jordan, on the next morning, when he provided ponte, and took the ex- pense of the defense on himself. gut Mr. Jordan, it ap pea had too much regard for his person to hazard its safety on the event of a prosecution, and he compromised the Sar with a solicitor of the treasury, by agreeing to appear in court and vered th a a m 5b @ purpose ot both plead guilty. ‘This arrangement ansv f from the risk of a parties—That of Jordan in Nbaene himsel | prosecution, and that of the ministry, since his plea of guilty amounted in some measure to a condemnation of the wor! oe following letter from Mr. Paine to the Attorney-Gencr: Archibald Macdonald, shows, that but for the circumstance ce his being called to France, as just relate d, it was his intentio1 to have formally defended | sete in the prosecution against him as author of the “ F oie of Man.” Sir: Though I have some reason for believing that you were m - ith not the original promoter or encourager of the prosec ution coI LAS 1 1 z “4 ¢ shite £ NTan 7? ap « menced against the work entitled ‘‘ Rights of Man,” either as that prosecution is intended to affect the ae the publisher or the pee yet | as you appear the official person therein, | 2ddress this letter to you, not as Sir Archib an ae sdonald, but as Attorney-General. You began by a prosecution against the publisher, Jordan and the reason as ssigned | oy Mr. Secretary Dundas, in the Hous: of Commons, in the debate on the proclam: ution, May 25, for taking that measure, was, he said, because Mr. Paine couid not be found, or words to that effect. Mr. Paine, sir, so far fron secreting himself, never went a step out of his way, nor in the least instance varied from his el conduct, to avoid any measure you might choose to adopt with respect to him. It is on the purity of his heart, and the universal utility of the principles and plans which his writings contain, that he rests the issue; and he will not dishonor it by any kind of subter- fuge. The apartments which he occupied at the timé of writing the work last winter, he has continued to occupy to the presentPERIOD 'PHIRD. 39 hour, and the polititors of the prosecution know where to find him; of which there isa proof in their own office as far back as the 21st of May, and a So In the office of my own attorney. But admitting for the sake of the ca Se, that the reason for proceeding against the publisher was, as Mr. Dundas stated, that Mr. Paine could not be found, that reason no longer. The instant that I was informed that an information was pre- paring to be filed agains t me, as the author of, I | oelieve, one of the most useful books ever offered to mankind, I directed my attorney to put in an app earance; and as I shall meet the prose- cution fully and fairly, and witha good and upright conscience, | have a right to e xpect that no act of littleness will be made use of on the part of the prosecution towards ana the future issue with respect to the author. can now exist This expression may, but I am in the possession of which serve to show that the action against the publis sher is hot intended to be a real action. is. therefore, he prosecution have found their cause appear convenient to them to enter into perhaps, appear obscure to you, some Matters ] ' a a : “ Se So any persons concerned int so weak as to make Lt a hegotiation with the upDisSNner. whether ror tne purpose OL . . e i» 7 a ce ae = a Se ; his submittine to a verdict. and to make use of the verdict so obtained a L Circumstance, by Way or prec edent, On. a tuture ; ees ; TN st a trial against myself; or for any othe purpose not tully made known to me; if, I say, I have eause to suspect this to be the case, I shall most certainly withdraw the detence | should —— otherwise have made, or pr romoted, on his (the publisher’s) behalf, and leave the negotiations to tl hemselves, and shail reserve the whole of the defence tor tT the Pe eal trial. But, sir, for the purpose of conducting this matter el at least that appearance of fairness and openness that s sha a li j istify itself before the public whose cause it really is (for it is aa right of public discussion and investigation that is questioned), i hav to propose to you to cease the prosecution against the publisher: and as the reason or pretext can no longer exist for continuing it against him because Mr. Paine could not be found, that you would direct the whole process against me, with whom the pro- secuting party will not find it possible to enter into any private egotiation. ‘ T will do the cause full justice, as well for the sake of the nation, as for my own reputation. : Another reason for discontinuing the process against the pub- ti¢ SHhp Res stang “ee a » a) * s ry = 7 = « ee ore | “pe ip 4*eo +740 PERIOD THIRD. lisher 1s, because it can amount to nothing. First, because a jury in London cannot decide upon the fact of publishing beyond the limits of the jurisdiction of London, and therefore the work may be republished over and: over again in every county in the nation, and every case must have a separate pro- cess; and by the time that three or four hundred prosecutions have been had, the eyes of the nation will then be fully open to see that the work in question contains a plan the best calculated to root out all the abuses of government, and to lessen the taxes of the nation upwards of six millions annually. Secondly, because though the gentlemen of London may be very expert in understanding their particular professions and occupations, and how to make business contracts with govern- ment beneficial to themselves as individuals, the rest of the nation may not be disposed to consider them sufficiently quali- fied nor authorized to determine for the whole nation on plans of reform, and on systems and principles of government. This would be in effect to erect a jury into a national convention, instead of electing a convention, and to lay a precedent for the probable tyranny of juries, under the pretence of supporting their rights. That the possibility always exists of packing juries will not be denied; and, therefore, in all cases where government is the prosecutor, more especially in those where the right of public discussion and investigation of principles and systems of govern- ment is attempted to be suppressed by a verdict, or in those where the object of the work that is prosecuted is the reform of abuse and the abolition of sinecure places and” pensions, in all these cases the verdict of a jury will itself become a subject of discussion; and therefore, it furnishes an additional reason for discontinuing the prosecution against the publisher, more especially as it is not a secret that there has been a negotiation with him for secret purposes, and for proceeding against me only. I shall make a much stronger defence than what } believe the treasury solicitor’s agreement with him will permit him to do. I believe that Mr. Burke, finding himself defeated, and not being able to make any answer to the “Rights of Man,” has been one of the promotors of this prosecution; and I shall return the compliment to him by showing, in a future publication, that he has been a masked pensioner at fifteen hundred pounds per annum for about ten years.PERIOD THIRD 44 Thus it is that the public money is wasted, and the dread of public investigation is produced. I am, sir, Your obedient humble servant, Tuomas Pave. Stz A. MAcponaLp, Attorney-General. On the 25th of July, 1792, the Duke of Brunswick issued his sanguinary manifesto, in which he declared that the allies were resolved to inflict the most dreadful punishments on the national assembly, for their treatment of the royal family; he even went so far as to threaten to give up Paris to military execution. This made the people furious, and drove them to deeds of desperation. A party was consequently formed in the convention for putting the king to death. Mr. Paine labored hard to prevent matters from being carried to this ex- tremity, but though his efforts produced a few converts to his doctrine, the majority of his colleagues were too enraged at the duplicity of the king, and the detestable conduct of the foreign monarchs, with whom he was leagued, to be satisfied with any- thing short of the most dreadful vengeance. The conduct of Louis was too reprehensible to be passed over unnoticed, and Mr. Paine therefore voted that he should be tried; but when the question whether he should be put to death, was brought forward, he opposed it. by every argument in his power. His exertions were, however, ineffectual, and sentence of death was passed, though by a very small majority. Mr. Paine lost no opportunity of protesting against this extreme measure; when the question, whether the sentence should be carried into exe- cution, was discussed, he combated the proposition with great energy. As he was not well versed in the French language, he wrote or spoke in English, which one of the secretaries translated. It is evident that his reasoning was thought very persuasive, since those who had heard the speeches of Buzot, Condorcet, and Brissot, on the same side of the question, without interrup- tion, broke out in murmurs, while Paine’s opinion was being translated; and Marat, at length, losing all patience, exclaimed that Paine was a quaker, whose mind was so contracted by the narrow principles of his religion, that he was incapable of the liberality that was requisite for condemning men to death. This shrewd argument not being thought convincing,Peet Se rid ots 49° PERIOD THIRD, the secretary continued to read, that ‘the execution of the sentence, instead of an act of justice, would appear to all the world, and particularly to their allies, the American States, as an act of vengeance, and that if he were sufficiently master of the French language, he would, in the name of his brethren of America, present a petition at ‘their bar against the execution of the sentence.’ Marat and his associates said that these could not possibly be the sentiments of Thomas Paine, and that the assembly was imposed upon by a false translation. On com- paring it with the original, however, it was found to be correct. The only practical effect of Paine’s leniency to the king was that of rendering himself an object of hatred among the: most violent and now dominant actors in the revolution. They found that he could not be induced to participate in their acts of cruelty; they dreaded the opposition which he might make to their sanguinary deeds, and they therefore marked him out as a victim to be sacrificed the first opportunity. The humanity of Mr. Paine was, indeed, one of the most prominent features in his character, and he exercised it, whether on public or private occasions. Of his strict attention to his public duty i in this respect, even at the hazard of his own saf ety, we have just seen a convincin ; proot in his opposition to the execution of the king; and of his humane and charitable dis- position in private matters, the following circumstances are sufficient to warrant the as unqualified conclusio: Mr. Paine was dining one da uy with about twenty a coffee-house in the Palais H 'galite, now the Palais 1 unfort cunately for the har mony of the com} pany, acaptain in the English service contrived to introduce himse Lf. The military glish system of _ Sea ene at vs Loyal, when. gentleman was a strenuous Supporter of the En government, and of course, a decided « nemy of the French Revolution. After the cloth was removed, the conversation turned on the state of affairs in England, and the means which had been adopted by the gover nment to cl ( 1eck political know- ledge. Mr. Paine gave his opinion very free ly, and much to the satisfaction of ever y one present, except Captain Grimstone, who finding himself cornered, answ enet his arguments by eall- ing him a traitor to his country, and applying to him other terms equally opprobrious. Mr. Paine treated his abuse with much good humor, which rendered the c he struck him a violent blow, havior on the part of a stout y ‘aptain so furious that But the cowardice of this be oung man, toward a person up-PERIOD THIRD. 48 ward of sixty years of age, Ww affair. ‘The captain had tion, which was hurried into that Mr. P: spot. The convention had decre as not the worst part of the str uck a citizen- -deputy of the conven- an insult to the whole nation ; the offender was custody, and it was with the oveabods difficulty aine prevented him from being massacred on the ed the punishment of death “ any one who should be convicted of striking a deputy: Mr. Paine was therefore placed in a very unpleasant situation. He im- mediately applied to Barrere, president of the committee of pubhe safety, for a passport for his imprudent adversary. His request being, after much hesitation, complied with, he still had considerable difficulty y in Bae ing his - eration: but even this was not all of whi ch the nobility of his nature was capable. The captain was without friends. and penniless ; and Mr. Paine generous 1 supple qd] him with money to defray his travel- ling expenses , home to E gland. A et ade ais lodged at the same hotel with Mr. Paine, and whose business it was to inform Pitt and eh min- istry of England, of what was going on in France. remaining after the war was declared, was thrown into prison. He applied to Mr. Paine. who. by great exertion, procured his re- lease. The reien of terror had now f: irly begun, and Mr. Paine’s humane disposition conspicuously marked him for one victims. OF AGS In alluding to the dreadful procee dings which were making such havoc alnon® the best patr iots of F rance, he Says :— “As for mvself, I used to find some relief by walking alone in the garden after it was dark. and cursing with hearty good will the authors of that terrible system that had turned the character of the revolution I had been proud to defend. | went but little to the convention, and then only to make mny appearance ; because | found it impossible for me to join in their tremendous decrees, and useless and dangerous to oppose them. My having voted and spoken extensive ly, more so than any other member, against the execution of the king, had already fixed a mark upon me: neither dared any of my associates in the convention to translate, and speak in French for me anything [ might have dared to write. Pen and ink were then of no use to me. No good could be done by writing, and ™> printer dared to print; and whatever I might have written tor * o * ~ - Oa 4 * oo Pr * 5i Sala ke eal rey ay bn se os oe + = * A ~~ * ee ook 1. wheehs bhooo ress rs ry 0 a f : a tbs - Ce a 52 PERIOD THIRD. of Jesus,” Volney’s “Ruins of Empires,” and ‘New Re searches on Ancient History,” Dupuis’s “Origine de tous les Cultes,”* Taylor’s “ Diegesis,” ‘“‘ Astronomical-Theological Ser- mons,” and “ Devil’s Pulpit,” Greg’s ‘Creed of Christendom ; Its Foundations and superstructure,” Macnaught on ‘The Doctrine of Inspiration,” and that natural history of ‘‘ super- naturalism,”—Feuerbach’s ‘*‘ Essence of Christianity.” There is nothing like constructive revolution in Mr. Paine’s attacks on tho ecclesiastical hierar chy which has been, notwith- standing its faults, and is now, and for some time past, abomin- able abuses, the nurse of civilization—the initiator of human progress. But there is, in the effects of his attacks on venerable abuses, that which is Fist neccessitating constructive revolution. Still, it is to be regretted that so many of those whom Mr. Paine’s caustic argument put in more zealous than formidable battle array against priesteratt, run away with the idea, so unjust and humiliating to human nature, that the whole gospel system was, from the beginning, but a nefarious scheme of priests and kings, whereby to destroy liberty ; that the Church has always been but a hypocritical and tyrannical organization. For in consequence of these views, they think that they have found out all that need be known with respect to the great question of man’s instinctive faith ; and vainly imagine, that through the power of reason alone, all the temples of superstition can be demolished, or shaved down to common school-houses ; and think that this will make the world about as good as it is capable of becoming. The plain truth is, that Mr. Paine’s theological views are as superficial as his religious conceptions are profound. [Tt will be recollected that “to do good,” was Mr. Paine’s religion. ] His belief in a supernatural ‘‘ God,” in “happiness after death,” and in ‘‘some punishment for the wicked,” though immeasur- ably less atrocious than the Judaistic and Paganistic Christian- ism which he combatted, are not a whit more intelligible ; and had “The Age of Reason ” been written by some shar p-witte ‘d magazine critic, instead of by the author of “The Crisis,’ “Common Sense,” and “ tights of Man ;”—or by some obscure individual, instead of by the companion ‘of, and co- worker with, sy Published by Mr. Gilbert NG The other works here referred to and also “The Age of Reason,” and “Examination of The Prophecies,” are published by C. Blanchard.PERIOD THIRD. do Washington, Jefferson, Franktin, Adams, and Lafayette, its notoriety never would have reached the height to which it im- mediately arose, and which, owing to clerical persecution, and to the abominable injustice and ingratitude with which Paine has been treated, it will no doubt gain upon for some time to come. But we must, in full justice to Thomas Paine, take into account the fact, that his theology is susceptible of a very liberal interpretation. I, too, materialist though I am,* believe in a God; a God as infinite as is all of which we can conceive: ay, and as real, a God as almighty as is materiality; which is at once both agent and act, and out of whose presence we can- not go even in thought, will prove to be, through that only intel- ligit-le miracle,—development. I believe, furthermore, in the punishment of the wicked; and that, too, after death. Nay, I know that the punishment of al/ sim is wmevitable. Is not that monster of iniquity, society, though dead and all but rotten in “ trespasses and sins,” under- going the very torments of the damned ? I hope for, nay, I know that I shall have, happiness after death ;—that every particle of me will, through chemical change, and the refinements which nature is with rapidly increasing speed, elaborating, go to form material beings as much happier than any which now exist, as “ glorified saints and angels” are imagined to be. But Mr Paine has won such laurels through his political writings, that he can richly afford to yield the palm with respect to theology ; not that he has not, though negatively, done good service, even in this field. His theological writings have cleared the way for the practical and positive in social affairs, by show- ing that reason, or speculativeness, though of importance in starting the march of human progress, is utterly inefficient in the all important respects of the motive and the creative power, necessary to speed that progress to ats goal. The “ Age of Reason” negatively prepared the way for the introduction of science and art into social architecture; for the inaugration of the knowable, the practical, the humane, the * Of all the Deistical works that I have examined, none appear to~me to be less inconsistent than the one by Henri D*‘sdier, avocat, published at Geneva, in 1859. His remarks on the clergy’s great lever, education, ought to be read by every reformer. The work is entitled—‘ Conciliation Ra- tionnelle du Droit et du Devoir.” It appears to me that M. Disdier has omitted no argument that can be adduced to support the proposition that there exists a ‘‘ Supernatural God,” or “ Dieu Personnel.” o a oe - s t 4 eI A "7 a Cedetedade54 PERIOD THIRD. efficient, in place of the mysterious, the speculative, the vindic- tive, the provisional, and otherwise aborteve. L know that these views will be somewhat distasteful to many of Mr. Paine’s admirer’s; but I have undertaken to give an im- partial history, and therefore cannot let my own admiration or that of others for the great man I am writing about, blind me to the great truth, that, till the perfection point be gained, means, even those as powerful as Mr. Paine used, must, as fast as they exhaust their efficacy, be thrust aside for those of greater and greater potency. Opinionism has long since fulfilled its function in the social organism, and therefore cannot too soon be rejected, along with its correlative, moralism, and that now main dependence of vice, —virtue. Principle has become an excrescence, and should bi immediately expelled for enlightened selfishness. Principle is the barricade behind which hypocrisy hides. It encumbers the path through which actual progress ought to have a free passage. But to return to the thread of this history :— In April, 1795, a committee was appointed to form another new constitution (the former one having been abolished), and the report of this committee was brought forward on the 23rd of June following, by Boissy d’ Anglais. In 1795, Mr. Paine wrote a speech in opposition to several] of the articles of the new constitution which had been presented for adoption, which was translated and read to the convention by Citizen Lanthera, on the seventh of July. He particularly contended against the unjust distinction that was attempted to be made between direct and indirect taxes. Whatever weight his objections ought to have carried, they were not listened to by the convention, and the constitution of Boissy d’ Anglais was adopted. By this decree the convention was formally dis- solved; and as Mr. Paine was not afterward re-elected, it also terminated his public functions in France. The reign of terror* having somewhat subsided, Mr. Paine * Let me not be misunderstood, in speaking as I have, and shall, of dema- gogues, priests, and “‘oppressors” generally. I by no means approve of the avalanche of blame in which Robespierre has been overwhelmed. He and his colleagues were but the instruments of an infuriated populace which an unfortunate train of circumstances had let loose upon those whom equally unfortunate causes had made their oppressors. : _ it is highly worthy of attention, that all the blood shed during the long “infidel” ‘‘reign of terror,” amounted to but little more than half what had flown in a single day (St. Bartholomew’s), under the reign of supernatural- istic terror. ‘The whole number guillotined by order of the RevolutionaryPERIOD THIRD, 55 resumed his pen. About the time when he brought out the second part of the “ Age of Reason,” he published several pam- phlets on subjects less likely to inflame the passions of the bigoted and ignorant; the principal of these are his “ Disserta- tion on first Principles of Government,” ‘“‘ Agrarian Justice opposed to Agrarian Law,” and the “Decline and Fall of the English System of Finance.” The first of these is a continua- tion of the arguments advanced in the “ Rights of Man;” the second is a plan for creating in every country a national fund ‘‘to pay te every person when arrived at the age of twenty-one years, the sum of fifteen pounds sterling, to enable him or her to begin the world; and also ten pounds sterling, per annum, during life, to every person now living of the age of fifty years, and to all others, when they shall arrive at that age, to enable them to live without wretchedness, in old age, and to go decently out of the world.” In 1796, he published at Paris a “ Letter to General Wash- ington.” ‘The principal subject of this letter was the treaty which had recently been concluded between the United States and Great Britain. From the articles of the treaty, Mr. Paine contends, that those who concluded it had compromised the honor of America, and the safety of her commerce, from a dis- position to crouch to the British ministry. The cold neglect of Washington toward Mr. Paine during his imprisonment, forms likewise a prominent subject of the letter, and but for this cir- cumstance, it is probable that it would never have appeared. Notwithstanding the high opinion which Washington professed to entertain of his services in behalf of American independence, he abandoned him in a few years afterward to the mercy of Robespierre, and during his imprisonment of eleven months he never made an effort to release him. This was not the treat- ment which the author of ‘‘ The Crisis” deserved at the hands of Washington, either as a private individual, or as president of tribunal was 18,603, viz:—Nobles, 1,278. Noble women, 750. Wives of laborers and artisans, 1,467. Religeuses, 350. Priests, 1,135. Common en if 9 |2 persons, not noble, 15,623. ie The lowest estimate of the number of victims of the St. Bartholomew massacre, is 25,000; but there is every reason for supposing that the number was not less than 30,000. ar at ‘ In six weeks time, the supernaturalistically misguided Duke a, in- : aes : stizated the murder, for conscience sake, of 18,0U0 people in the king- dom of the Netherlands. : Is itnot time that the murderous system of blame and punishment, to- gether with their correlate, principle, was superseded56 PERIOD THIRD. the United States. Exclusive of Mr. Paine’s being a citizen of the United States, and consequently entitled to the protection of its government, he had rendered her services which none but the ungrateful could forget; he had therefore no reason to expect that her chief magistrate would abandon him in the hour of peril. However deserving of our admiration some parts of General Washington’s conduct towards Mr. Paine may be, his behaviour in this instance certainly reflects no honor upon his character; and we are utterly at a loss for an excuse for it, on recollecting that when the American residents of Paris de- manded Paine’s release, the answer of the convention mainly was, that the demand could not be listened to “in consequence of rts not being authorized by the American government.” Mr. Paine regarded the United States as his home; and although his spirit of universal philanthrophy, his republican principles, and his resolution in attacking fraud in politics and superstition in religion, rendered him rather a citizen of the world than of any particular country, he had domestic feelings and pivotal attachments. During his residence in Europe, he always declared his intention of returning to America; the fol- lowing extract from a letter of his to a lady at New York will show the affectionate regard which he cherished for the cou ntry whose affairs were the means of first launching him into public life :— “You touch me on a very tender point when you say, that my friends on your side of the water cannot be reconciled to the rdea of my abandoning America even for my native England. They are right. I had rather see my horse, Button, eating the grass of Bordertown, or Morrissania, than see all the pomp and show of Europe. “A thousand years hence, for I must indulge a few thoughts, perhaps in less, America may be what England now is. The innocence of her character, that won the hearts of al] nations in her favor, may sound like a romance, and her inimitable virtue as if it had never been. The ruins of that liberty, which thou- sands bled to obtain, may just furnish materials for a village tale, or extort a sigh from rustic sensibility ; while the fashion- able of that day, enveloped in dissipation, shall deride the prin- cipie and deny the fact. ‘When we contemplate the fall of empires, and the extinction of the nations of the ancient world, we see but little more to excit our regret than the mouldering ruins of pompous palaces,PERIOD THIRD. 57 magnificent monuments, lofty pyramids, and walls and towers of the most costly workmanship: but when the empire of America shall fall, the subject for contemplative sorrow will be infinitely greater than crumbling brass or marble can inspire. It will not then be said, Here stood a temple of vast antiquity, here rose a Babel of invisible height, or there a palace of sump- tuous extravagance; but here! ah! painful thought! the noblest work of human wisdom, the greatest scene of human glory, the fair cause of freedom, rose and fell! Read this, then ask if I forgot America.” In 1797, a society was formed in Paris, under the title of ‘“‘Theophilanthropists.” Of this society, Mr. Paine, was one of the principal founders. More of this anon. This year Mr. Paine published a “Letter to the People of France; on the Events of the eighteenth Fructidor.” About the middle of the same year he also wrote a letter to Camille Jordan, one of the council of five hundred, respecting his report on the priests, public worship, and bells. “It is want of feeling,” says he, ‘‘to talk of priests and hells, while so many infants are perishing in the hospitals, and aged and infirm poor in the streets from the want of necessaries The abundance that France produces is sufficient for every want, if rightly ap- plied; but priests and bells, like articles of luxury, ought to be the least articles of consideration.” Tke publication of his deistical opinions lost Mr. Paine a great number of his friends, and, it is possible, that this might be one of the causes of General Washington’s indifference. The clear, open, and bold manner in which he had exposed the fallacy of long established opinions, called forth the indignation of the whole order of priesthood both in England and America, and there was scarcely a house of devotion in either country, which did not ring with pious execrations against the author of the “Age of Reason,” Theapostles of superstition witnessed with amazement and terror the immense circulation of the work, and trembled at the possibility that men might come to think for themselves.* —~ * The late Mr. George H. Evans (one of the first movers of the land reform question) was the first collector and publisher of Paine’s Works in this country; and the late Frances Wright d’Arusmont rendered, and Mrs. H. L. Rose is now rendering, most efficient aid in disseminating such views of these works as the popular mind is capable of taking. The constructive revolutionist must admire the stand she has so bravely * hy id oe 0 7 « + “4 « ee. es ” - ree aM Be A asr Paka eal tee nn ry LIT SS I eee wan a Be 58 PERIOD THIRD. On leaving the house of Mr. Monroe, Paine boarded in the family of Nicholas Bonneville, a gentleman in good circum- stances, and editor of a political paper, the ‘‘ Bouche de Fer.” In 1797, the society of ‘ Theophilanthropists” was formed in Paris. Men capable of any reflection began to see how utterly monstrous was the attempt to dispense with religion—with a universal higher law to which to appeal—with something to satisfy, or at least prevent from being utterly discouraged, the instinctive aspirations of the human heart. Robspierre objected to atheism as aristocratic; but Paine saw somewhat further i than this, and Larévilliére, a member of the Directory, was im- pressed with the necessity of a system which should rival the catholic church itself. The idea was supremely great, and lacked only the Comtean conception of science to make it a suc- cess. As it was, however, it proved a worse failure than has even Christianism. Pure Deism is not at all more intelligible than is that mixture of Deism, Buddhism, Judaism, and Paganism, called Christianity; and the cold moralism which is attached to the one God system, the human heart instinctively abhors. Paine, and all the other doctors of divinity with whom he was in unison, were far behind even Mahomet, or Joe Smith, in respect to theology. Haiiy, a brother of the eminent crystallogist, assembled the first society of Theophilanthropists. They held their meetings on Sunday, and had their manual of worship and hymn-book. and ably taken with respect to woman’s rights, however exceptional some of the measures she has advocated may be considéred. But there is no danger that the legitimate object of man’s adoration.— woman—can be drawn into that maelstrom of abomination, —caucus-and-bal- lot-boxism, and if I mistake not, Mrs. Rose does not press the extension of “‘elective franchise,” to her sex quite as vigorously as she used to. At all events, she is doing good service to the cause of human emancipation ; she has been @ pioneer in a reform on which further progress importantly depends; for which she deserves the hearty ‘‘thanks of manand woman.” — Abner Kneeland was, I believe, the first editor of the first ‘ ‘openly avowed Infidel paper” in the United States,—the ‘*Boston Investigator ;” now edited by Horace Seaver, Esq. As to Theodore Parker, his exertions in the cause of free inquiry are of world-wide notoriety : and I will here mention that “The Evidences against Christianity,” by John S. Hittell, should be the hand-book of all those who look to reason, free discussion, and to an exposure of falsehood and error, for the salvation of the human race. The services which Mr. Joseph Barker has rendered the liberal cause will not soon be forgotten. His debate with Dr. Berg floors Christianity to the utmost that argument can. But I much prefer the valedictory letter which he published in the “Investigator,” previous to his departure for Europe. Evidently, the writer is beginning to see that something more than mere hegativism is needed to put down superstition.PERIOD THIRD. 59 Robespierre had, three years befor in honor of l’£tre Supréme, and P course before one of the Theophilanthropist congregations, in which he attempted to blend science and ‘“supernaturalism.” That some parts of his discourse would have done honor to an Orthodox divine, the following extracts will attest :—“ Do we want to contemplate His [God’s] power? We see it in the immensity of the creation. Do we want to contemplate his wisdom? We see it in the unchangeable order by which the incomprehensible whole is governed. Do we want to contem- plate His mercy? We see it in His not withholding His abundance even from the unthankful. In fine, do we want to know what Godis? Search not written books, but the Scriptures called the Creation.” The finale of the miserable political and religious farce which had been played in France, was, that, in 1799, Bonaparte sent a file of grenadiers to turn both the political and theological quacks out of their halls; and the sooner some Bonaparte does the same thing in the United States, the sooner will the cause of liberty be at least delivered from the management of those who are insulting, disgracing, and treacherously betraying it. Whilst writing this, the two great parties of spoil-seekers in the United States, have been causing for, and have at length decided on, two individuals out of some thirty millions, one of whom is to be demagogism’s cat’s-paw general for the next four years. ; The qualifications of one of these candidates for the presi- dential chair, consist in his having been a ‘“farm-laborer, a common workman in a saw-mill, and a boatman on the Wabash and Mississsippi rivers ;” a wood-chopper, a hunter, a soldier in the Black Hawk war, a clerk in a store, and finally a sham-law manufacturer and monger—a member of a legislature, and a lawyer. The qualifications of his opponent on the political- race-course, are probably about as different im respect to value, from those just enumerated, as fiddlededum is from fiddlededee, Those convenient tools of both parties, those chessmen with which the political game is played—The People, however have great expectations of reform from which ever candidate they vote (they vote! do they? Faugh/) for, provided he is elected. But mark me well, my dear fellow-sufferers; you, and all, except about one in fifty or a hundred of the office-seekers whose thievish fingers itch for the public treasury, are destined e, given a magnificent fete aine now delivered a dis- > i 7 Fa & ef 4 oT oT et ee ee needs o60 PERIOD THIRD. to utter, and most woeful disappointment. Still, I neither blame the demagogues nor yourselves. In the concluding sentences of this history, I shall tell you where the fault lies ; for I hope, that the political scamps who, in this country, are making the name of freedom a scorn and a derision throughout the rest of the world, will be eliminated by those who will make liberty an actuality. How this may be done, I claim to have demonstrated in “The Religion of Science,” and “ Essence of Science.” Throughout Paine’s political writings, notwithstanding their popularistic dressings, there runs a tone entirely condemnatory of demagogism, and highly suggestive of social science and art. And there is no question but that the miserable abortion in which the liberty-agitation seemed to terminate in France, and the failing aspect which it took on in America, even in his day, all but “burst his mighty heart,” and made him somewhat care- less, though far from slovenly, with respect to his person. Paine’s opposition to the atheists, on the one hand, and to the cruelty of those who, headed by Robespierre, had instituted the worship of the “Supreme Being” on the other, had grad- ually rendered him unpopular in France. His remittances from the United States not being very regular, M. Bonneville added generosity to the nobleness which he, considering the circumstances displayed, in opening his door to Mr. Paine, by . . So . lending him money whenever he wanted it. This kindness, Paine had soon both the opportunity and the means of reciprocating; for majority absolutism had now be- come so unbearably despotic, so exceedingly morbific to the social organism in France, that to save civilization even from destruction, Bonaparte had to be invested with supreme power in the State, and the noninally free press of M. Bonneville was consequently stopped. Mr. Paine’s liberty mission in France, having now evidently failed [always remembering that nothing in nature i ) lute failure—that progres i eemung contrary but an aberration |, he at once resolved to return to the United States, where he offered an asylum to M. Bonneville and family; in consequence of which, Madame Bonneville and her three sons soon left Paris for New York. Owing to some cause or other, but not to the one which Paine’s slanderers were afterwards mul sted in damages, even in a Christian court of Justice, for assigning, M. Bonneville did S an abso- s the constant rule and the sPERIOD THIRD. 6] not acvompany them. : The eldest son returned to his father in Paris; but Mr. P aine amply provided for the maintenance of Madame Bonneville and her two sons who remained in America. At Paris, such personages as the Earl of Lauderdale, Dr. Moore, Brissot, the Marquis de Chatelet le Roi, General Mi- randa, Capt. Imlay, Joel Barlow, Mr. and Mrs, Stone, and Mary Wollstonecraft, * sought the honor of Mr. Paine’s com- pany. That Mr. Paine’s eloquence and power of reasoning were un- surpassed even by Cicero, Demosthenes or Daniel Webster, his political writings fully attest. Betore it became known who wrote “ Common Sense,” it was by some attributed to Dr. Franklin ; others insisted that it was by that elegant writer of English,—John Adams.+ “Tt has been very generally propagated through the continent,” says Mr. Adams, “that I wrote this pamphlet. ... I could not have written anything in so manly and striking a style.” This eulogy, be it remembered, was pronounced by one who was so jealous of Paine’s credit in the matter of the Declaration of Independence, that, says Randall, in his “Life of Thomas Jef- ferson,” he “spares no occasion to underrate Paine’s Services, and to assault his opinions and character.” + Mr. Randall continues :— “A more effective popular appeal [than ‘Common Sense’] never went to the bosoms of a nation. Its tone, its manner, its biblical illusions, its avoidance of all openly impassioned appeals to feeling, and its unanswerable common sense were * Authoress of ‘fA Vindication of the Richts of Woman, with Strictures on Political and Moral Subjects.” A work, the exceeding merit of which has been lost sight of, in its name, since woman’s rights have been claimed to consist in the liberty to degrade herself to the level of the politician. + That that great patriot, John Adams, and many other revolutionary worthies vaguely entertained the idea of Independence before “Common Sense” was published, there can be no doubt. But the question is, who had the courage to first propose the thing, and ina practical shape? T hat Mr. Adam’s prudence predominated over his courage, great as that was, is fur- ther deducible from the strong reason there was for the inference that his religious opinions, if openly expressed, would have appeared as far from the orthodox standard, as were those of Paine. See Randali’s ‘Life of Jeffer- son,” on this point. t+ 1 have before called the attention of the reader to the fact that Rousseau was, like Paine, an ‘‘author hero;” his writings were prominently the text of the French Revolution. I will further remark, that whoever drew up the *‘ Declaration of Independence,” has given indisputable evidence of hav- iny well studied the ‘‘ Contrat Social” of the author of the ‘* world-famous ‘* Confessions.” B o a 7 ra 5 J a] + oS oe "Ht bs seoesee eh 362 PERIOD THIRD. exquisitely adapted to the great audience to which it was addressed; and calm investigation will satisfy the historical student, that its effect in preparing the popular mind for the Declaration of Independence, exceeded that of any other paper, speech, or document made to favor it, and it would scarcely be exaggeration to add, than all other such means put together. “No writer,” says Thomas Jefferson, “has exceeded Paine in ease and familiarity of style, in perspicuity of expression, happiness of elucidation, and in simple and unassuming language.” Says General Washington, in a letter to Joseph Reed (Jan. 31, 1776): “A few more such flaming arguments as were ex- hibited at Falmouth and Norfolk, added to the sound doctrine and unanswerable reasoning contained in the pamphlet ‘Com- mon Sense,’ will not leave numbers at a loss to decide on the propriety of a separation.” That Paine possessed a very superior degree of mechanical skill, his model for iron-bridges abundantly proves. That his genius for poetry lacked but cultivating, I think will sufficiently appear from the following little effusion, extracted from his correspondence with a lady, afterwards the wife of Sir Robert Smith :— FROM “THE CASTLE IN THE AIR,” TO THE “LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD.” In the region of clouds where the whirlwinds arise, My castle of fancy was built; The turrets reflected the blue of the skies, And the windows with sun-beams were gilt. The rainbow sometimes, in its beautiful state, Enamelled the mansion around, And the figures that fancy in clouds can create, Supplied me with gardens and ground. I had grottoes and fountains and orange tree groves, T had all that enchantment has told; I had sweet shady walks for the gods and their loves, I had mountains of coral and gold. But a storm that I felt not, had risen and rolled, While wrapt in a slumber I lay: And when I looked out in the morning, behold! My castle was carried away. It passed over rivers, and valleys, and groves— he world, it was all in my view— I thought of my friends, of their fates, of their loves, And often, full often, of you.PERIOD THIRD. 63 Aj length it came over a beautiful scene, ‘That nature in silence had made: The place was but small—but twas sweetly serene, And chequered with sunshine and shade. I gazed and I envied with painful good will, nd grew tired of my seat in the air: When all of a sudden my castle stood still, As if some attraction was t] ere. Like a lark from the sky it came fluttering down, And placed me exactly in view— When who should I meet, in this charming retreat, This corner of calmness—but you. Delighted to find you in honor and ease, I felt no more sorrow nor pain ; And the wind coming fair, I ascended the breeze, And went back with my castle again. On the subject of the simplicity of Mr. Paine’s habits, and his general amiability, his friend Clio Rickman remarks :— “He usually rose about seven, breakfasted with his friend Choppin, Johnson, and two or three other Englishmen, and a Monsieur La Borde, who had been an officer in the ci-devant grande du corps, an intolerable aristocrat, but whose skill in mechanics and geometry brought on a friendship between him and Paine; for the undaunted and distinguished ability and firmness with which he ever defended his own opinions when controverted, do not reflect higher honor on him than that un- bounded liberality toward the opinion of others which consti- tuted such a prominent feature in his character, and which never suffered mere difference of sentiment, whether political cr religious, to interrupt the harmonious intercourse of friend- ship, or impede the interchanges of knowledge and information. ‘‘ After breakfast he usually strayed an hour or two in the garden, where he one morning pointed out the kind of spider whose web furnished him with the first idea of constructing his iron bridge; a fine model of which, in mahogany, is pre- served at Paris. 7 “The little happy circle who lived with him here will ever remember these days with delight: with these select friends he would talk of his boyish days, play at chess, whist, piquet, or cribbage, and enliven the moments by many interesting anec- dotes: with these he would sport on the broad and fine gravel walk at the upper end of the garden, and then retire to his bouboir, where he was up to his knees in letters and papers of * “ Es a ~ e * aFee eA pr at . a _ 64 PERIOD THIRD. various descriptions. Here he remained till dinner-time; and unless he visited Brissot’s family, or some particular friend in the evening, which was his frequent custom, he joined again the society of his favorites and fellow-boarders, with whom his conversation was often witty and cheerful, always acute and improving, but never frivolous. “ Incorrupt, straightforward, and sincere, he pursued his polit- ical course in France, as everywhere else, let the government or clamor or faction of the day be what it might, with firmness, with clearness, and without a “shadow of turning.’ “Tn all Mr. Paine’s inquiries and conversations he evinced the strongest attachment to the investigation of truth, and was always for going to the fountain-head for information. He often lamented we had no good history of America, and that the letters written by Columbus, the early navigators, and others to the Spanish court, were inaccessible, and that many valuable documents, collected by Philip II., and deposited with the national archives at Simanca, had not yet been promulga- ted. He used to speak highly of the sentimental parts of ‘Raynal’s History.’” Of course Mr. Paine did not escape the imputation of being “immoral.” The cry of “immorality” and “ licentiousness ” has been raised against everyone who has ever proposed a social system different from the prevailing one, from the time of him who preferred harlotry to phariseeism, to that of Charles Fourier. Luther no more escaped the accusation of being a sensualist, than did Thomas Paine; and had not Milton written “Paradise Lost,” and professed the “ orthodox” religion, his ‘“‘ Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce” would have placed him on the same historical page with those reformers Dr. T. L. Nichols, Dr. E. Lazarus, and Stephen Pearl Andrews.* * The first of these gentlemen favored mankind with ‘‘ Esoteric Anthro- pology,” and ‘‘ Marriage: its History,” &c. The second is the author of ‘*Love vs. Marriage ;” and the third took the free love side of the question in the famous discussion on Marriage and Divorce, between himself and the Hon. Horace Greeley, and is author of “The Science of Society yates stare other progressive works, and of an admirable system of instruction ‘in the French language. : It is difficult to see how a person of Mr. Greeley’s understanding could have taken the side he did in the controversy just alluded +0 and SEG in the renewal of that controversy between himself and the Hon. Robert Dale Owen. That monogamy, like pologamy, has served a useful purpose, everyonePERIOD THIRD. 65 Paine did not, as we have seen, live with his wife; but if he refrained from sexual] intercourse, it must have been because he was afraid of what the world might say (a supposition too absurd, in his case, to be entertained for & moment), or because he had little taste for amorous pleasures; or, lastly, because he wanted to show the world that liberalism wag such a matter of moon-shine, that it was not even inimical to what a religious system which upholds crucifixion and self-denial, palms off on its dupes for “vaboue "Ghat lies has no virtue of its own, and therefore has to borrow and adopt that the very basis of which is Ssupernaturalistic self-enslavement ; that free-think- ing is a mere speculative, impracticable, abstract sort of free- dom, which it would not be “ virtuous” to accompany by free acting; that liberty, even in the most important particular (as all physiologists know), is but a mere figment of the imagina- tion, over which to debate or hold free discussions ; or, at most, to write songs, plays, and novels about, But what is most worthy of remark in this connection is, that had the discoverer of the steam-engine, or of the electrical] telegraph been a very Rochester, or Cesar Borgia, the circum- stance would not have been mentioned as an objection to a steam-boat passage, or to a telegraphic despatch; and only when sociology is rescued from the wild regions of the speculative capable of tracing prosress, can of course see; but how such an one can fail to perceive that these institutions hav e about equally become worn out, and morbific to the social organism, both in Western Europe and the United States, is to me somewhat mysterious. Are not those crowning curses, (ex- cepting, of course, demagogism) prostitution and pauperism, alarmingly on the increase? And does not the former flourish most, where the cords of muatrimony are drawn the tightest ? But the fact that Mr. Greeley magnanimously opened the columns of “The Tribune ” to the other side of the question, shows that he had full confidence in the arguments on his side, and this ought to dispel all doubts as to his sincerity, and the uprightness of his intention. It is only hypo- crites or downright fools, who wish to have truth, with respect to religious or social questions, suppressed, : 7 as “ Still, I respectfully ask you, Mr. Editor of “ The New York Tribune, ”— did you during your visit to Mormondom, observe any part of Salt Lake City, in which humanity touched a lower depth than that to which it sinks in our Five Points, and in the vicinity of the junction of Water and Roose- velt-streets? And do you really think, that even in the harem of Brigham Young, female degradation is creater than in the New York (palaces of har- lotry? En passant, one of these has just been fitted up, the furniture alone in which cost thirty thousand dollars! Yet New York is almost the only State in the Union, wherein exists what Mr. Greeley considers orthodox marriage—marriage, from the bonds of which there is no escape, except through the door of actual adultery, natural death, or murder ; often by poison, but generally through the infliction of mental agony : 5 a * 5] * 4 a 7 a a bs + ire se bok asia ShPere et eS oe Oe Pe et ehh oo ek ee 7 66 PERIOD THIRD. and becomes an art, will it have a rule of its own; a rule which will free all the natural passions from the shackles of zqnorance of how to beneficially gratify them. For a reason which will presently appear, T shall now call the readers attention to the letter of Joel Barlow, written in answer to one from that vilest of slanderers and renegados,— James Cheetham. ‘This letter was written to obtain informa- tion; nay, not information, but what might be tortwred into appearing such, with a View to sending forth to a prejudiced world, that tissue of falsehoods which Cheetham had the auaa- ? city to palm off on it for the “ Life of Thomas Paine. To JamMES CHEETHAM. Sir,—I have received your letter calling for information relative to the life of Thomas Paine. It appears to me that this is not the moment to publish the hi fe of that man in this country. His own writings are his best life, and these are not read at present. The greatest part of the readers in the United States will not be persuaded as long as their vresent feelings last, to con- sider him in any other light than as a drunkard and a deist. The writer of his life who sbould dwell on these topics, to the exclusion of the great and estimable traits of his real character, might, indeed, please the rabble of the age who do not know him ; the book might sell; but 16 would only tend to render the truth more obscure, for the Zature biographer, than it was before. But if the present writer snould give us Thomas Paine com- plete in all his character as cne of the most benevolent and dis- interested of mankind, endowed with the clearest perception, an uncommon share of original genius, and the greatest breadth of thought; if this piece of biography should analyze his literary ,abors, and rank him as he ought to be ranked amongst the brightest and most undeviating lurainaries of the age in whic!) he has lived—yet with a m ind assailable by flattery, and recei\ ing through that weak side a tincture of vanity which he was too proud to conceal; with a mind, though strong enough to bear him up, and to rise elastic under the heaviest load of op- pression, yet urable to endure the contempt of his former friends and fellow-laborers, the rulers of the country that had received his first and greatest services—a mind incapable of looking Cuwn with serene compassion, as it ought, on the rudePERIOD THIRD. 67 scoffs of their mit tators,/ a new generation that ] knows him nos: & mind that shrinks from their society, and un] appily seeks retuge in low Company, or looks for , consolation j in the sordid. solitary bottle, until it ‘sin] 1KS at last so f: ar bel Ow its native ele. Vatlon as to ee all respect for itself, and to forfeit that 5 OF his best rriends, disposing those: ae almost to join with his nemies, and wish, th Lough from different motives, that he would haste to hide himself in the sia celines you are disposed and prepared to write his Hie, thus entire, t to 1 fill up the picture to which these hasty trokes of outline give but a rude sk etch with great vacuities, your book m: ay be a useful one for another age, but it will not b e relished, nor scarcely tolerated in this, Phe The biogre upher of ee Paine Should not forget his mathematical acquire ments, and his 1 mechanical genius, H x \y £ 4 / ay invention of the iron bridge, w ee -h led him to Europe in ¢] year 1787, has procured him a great reputation in that branch t 1e ww 7 of science, in France and England, in bot] which countries his bridge has been adopted in many instances, and is now much in use You ask whether he took an oath of allegiance to France. Doubtless the qualification to be a member of the convention required an siti of fidelity to th: 4G country, but involved in jt no abjuration of his fidelj ty to this. He was made a French citizen by the same decree w ith W ashington, Hamilton, Priegt- ley, and Sir James Mackintosh. W hat ML M————__. has tol d you relative to the cireum- stances of his arrestation by order of Rob oesplerre, is erroneous, at least in one point. Paine did not lodge at the house where he was ai wrested. but had been dining there with some Ameri- cans of Cian Diets VP Cee ek have | een one. I never heard before, that Paine wags intoxicated that night. Indee the otficers Brauch him dire miles from his lodgings, and a pudnd y to my house, which was two out as much from the place g. He was not intoxicated when he came tome. Their object was to get me to go and assist them ) examine Paine’s paper. It employed us the re st of that night, and the whole of t ar next day at Paine’s lodgings ; and ne was not committed to ) prison till the next evening, You ask what company he kept—he always frequented the Ll best, both in England and Fra ance, till he beéame the object of where he had been ¢ calumny in certain American papers (echoes of the English court papers), for his adherence to what he thought the cause SPLIT TErirr ere er 4 4 oT ~ so) LJ z . I a Late oa bi sh ek 8 Sahl 92°68 PERIOD THIRD. France, till he conceived himself neglected and friends in the United States. From that ery much to drink, and, consequently, of liberty in despised by his former moment he gave himself v to companions less worthy of his better days. It is said he was always a peevish person— So wag Lawrence Sterne, so was Torquato Tasso, so was J. J. Rousseau ;* but Thomas Paine, as a visiting acquaintance and as a literary friend, the only points of view in which I knew him, was one of the most instructive: men I ever have known. He had a surprising memory and brilliant fancy; his mind was a storehouse of facts and useful observations; he was full of lively anecdote, and ingenious original, pertinent remark upon almost every subject. He was always charitable to the poor beyond his means, @ sure protector and friend to all Americans in distress that he found in foreign countries. And he had frequent occasions to exert his influence in protecting them during the revolution in France. His writings will answer for his patriotism, and his entire devotion to what he conceived to be the best interest and happiness of mankind. This, sir, is all I have to remark on the subject you mention. Now I have only one request to make, and that would doubt less seem impertinent, were you not the editor of a newspaper : it is, that you will not publish my letter, nor permit a copy 01 it to be taken. this is possible. I am, sir, &e., JOEL BaRLow. Katorama, August 11, 1809. “Mr. Barlow,” says Mr. Vale, “was in France at the tim of Mr. Paine’s death, and knew not his habits. Cheetham wrote to him, informed him of his object, mentioned that Paine was drunken and low in his company towards the latter years of his life, and says he was informed that he was drunk when taken to prison in France. Now Mr. Barlow does not contra dict Cheetham; he could not, as Cheetham had the better op- portunity of knowing facts, and Mr. Barlow does not suspect him of falsehood; as who would? He therefore preswmes Mr. * 0 es a PRG : ‘ Bein peev ishness of the famous Dr. Samuel Johnson is notorious; and David, the ‘‘man after God’s own heart,” was so inveterately peevish as to sing, whilst he forced the sweet tones of his harp to accompany the spiteful canticle, “ All men are liars.”PERIOD THIRD. 69 Cheetham correct in the statement, and goes on, not to excuse Mr. Paine, but to present his acknowledged good qualities as a set-off Then Cheetham publishes this letter, and presents, to a Cursory reader, Mr: Joel Barlow as acknowledging Mr. Paine’s intemperance, and other infirmities, which had no other foundation than Cheetham’s declaration, given to deceive Bar- low; who afterwards, as we have seen, gives Barlow’s letter to deceive the public,” The late Mr. D. Burger, a respectable watch and clock maker in the City of New York. and who, when a boy, was clerk in the store which furnished Mr. Paine’s groceries, personally as- sured the writer of this, that all the liquor which Mr. Paine bought, both for himself and _ his friends, at a time, too, when drinking was fashionable, was one quart a week. Before returning to the thread of this narrative, I will call the attention of the reader to the following letter, from Mr. Jefferson, written to Mr. Paine, in answer to one which the latter wrote to him from Paris:— You express a wish in your letter to return to Amerjca by 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 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 re- ward in the thankfulness’ of nations, is my sincere prayer. Accept the assurances of my high esteem and affectionate at- tachment. THOMAS JEFFERSON. Mr. Jefferson had, during the election campaign which seated him in the presidential chair, been pronounced an infidel; and, S2YS Randall, in his “ Life of Jefferson:” “It was asserted in the Federal newspapers generally, and preached from a multi- tude of pulpits, that one of the first acts of the President, after entering office, was to send a national vessel to invite and bring ‘Tom Paine’ to America.” “‘ Paine was an infidel,” continues Randall. “He had written politically against Washington. He was accused of inebriety,eePeter es) 70 PERIOD THIRD. which accusations | and a want of chastity | of the truth of both 1 Bendat strongly indicates his unbelief.| But he was the author ae Common Sense” and the “ Crisis.” On the occasion of Paine’s writing to Jefferson that he was coming to visit him at Monticello, Randall again remarks :— “Mrs. Randolph, and we think Mrs. Epps, both dane ot the Church of England, were not careful to conceal that would have much preferred to have Mr. Paine stayaway. 4 hi Jefferson turned to the speaker with his gentlest smile, and ri marked in substance: “Mr. Paine is not, L believe, a favorite lies is too well e Sie to the hospitality among the ladies—but he is too well entitied to the h« ospitality of every American not to cheerfully receive mine. Pain wv came, and remained a day or two,.... oF left Mr. Jefferson’s mansion, the subject of light ter prejudices, than when n he entered it.” Mr. Paine was to have accompanied Mr. Munroe back to the United States, but was unable to complete his arrangements in time. This was fortunate; for the vessel in which the Amert can minister embarked was, on her passage, boarded by British frigate, and thoroughly searched for the author of ‘Tl Rights of Man.” Paine then went to Havre; but finding that Sev Sai British frigates were cr uising about the port, he returned to Paris. Seeing himself thus baulked, he wrote to Mr. Jefferson, as before stated, for assistance, which produced the letter above copied. He did not, however, from some cause or other, take passage in the Maryland. e next agreed to sail with Com- nodore Barney, but was accidentaliy detained beyond the time, and the vessel in which he was to have embarked was lost at sea [In addition to these remarkable preservations, Paine, in 1805, was shot at through the window of his own house, at New Rochelle, and escaped unharmed; alse the privateer in which, but for the interference of his father (as we have seen), he would, when a youth, have sailed, lost 174 out of her crew of 200 men, in a single battle; and when he was in prison, as has already been related, he missed going to the guillotine, in con- sequence of the jailor, whose business 11 was to put the death- mark on the cell-doors of the doomed, not noticing that the door of the cell which contained the author of the “ Age of Reason” was open flat against the wall, so that the inside was marked for the information of Paine, instead of the outside for er. 7 iesPERIOD THIRD, 71 the ; wean 1 A ae ; the instruction of the executioner.* Had a missionary Of Superstition been thus preserved, how the hand of « God ” z oe ee ote = a | 13 would have been seen In the matter. ee er ee Eee eee eee sO We, Ole =P ut in this set of Tumbril s [the dung-earts in w] ee es victims of the Reign of Terror were dragged to exe cution] there are ty: other things no- table ; one notable person ; and one want of a notable person. The notable person is Lieutenant-Gen. ral L, oiserolles, a no bleman by birth, and b y nature; laying down his life here for his son. In the prison of Saint- zare, the e 7 1 - > . L 1 night ‘before last hurry ing to the gate to h 1ear the death- -list read: 1e caught Riis weap oe eee the name of his son. Che son was ¢ aS eD at the moment. “‘I am Loise- rolles,’ ied. the old man; at T inville’s bar, an error in the Christian nz ame is little ; small objection was made.—T he want of the notable person, again, is that of Deputy Paine! Baits has I as sat in the L uxembourg since Januar vs and s seemed forg sotten 5 but Fou quiel had pricked him at last. The turnkey, list in hand, is mat king with chalk the o Te doors of to-morrow’s Fournee. Paine’s outer dane nappened to be open, turned back on the wall: the turn- key marked it on the side next him, and ' hurried on ; another turnkey came, and shut it: noc halk-mark now visil le, the Fournee went without Paine. Paine’s life ] lay not there. ”—( arlyl Fouquie r Tinville, above alluded to. was the head jury man of the Revo- lutionary Tribunal. He was far more blood- thirsty than was Robespie Tre himself. Was not the proof of his atrocities indubitable. ; sible to believe that such norrors ever took place Y ‘et such a “man of principle,” and SO “ corruptible was this horrible wretch, that, says Allison, ‘““women, the pl easures of t] ble, or of the theatre, were alike indifferent to him......He mig! ring the period of his power » hi ave amassed an im mense for tune : fe remained to the last poor, and his iit ‘e is said to have died of famine. His lodgidgs were destitute of every comfort ; their w hole furni- ture, after his death. dic 1 not sel] for twenty po unds, No sedi Gh on could influence him.” [ will add, so much for principle. Fouqutri INVILLE WAS, PAST ALL QUESTION, VIRTUOUS, HONEST, SINCERE, CONS CLE NTIOU S Had this miserable victim of the cruelest and har Ae st to be got rid of delusion that mankind were ever inf: ituated with, 1 been as de eg of all “ virtuous” qualities as was Alexander V [., he could, at . orst, have been bought off, and would probably not have perpetrated a tithe of the evil he did. He at last, like Robespierre, “sealed his 4 testimony ” on the scaffold. The French, like Seana Ss, had been taught to venerate ar eligious SYS- tem which defies that srowning atrocity, crucifixion to satisfy justice! and which consequently canonizes ¢ laily and hourly self- cruc ifixion. In all can- dor I ask, oat not pracitical faith in the entities the natural result? and are not war, duelling, torturing, hanging, imprisioning ; together w ith blam- ing and despising our unfortunate fellow-c reatures as vicious »—as less holy than our sti anid “selves, the practical logic of “virtue” and “« principle ?” And were not Marat, Joseph Leb on, St. Just, Robespierre, Tinvale, and the rest of that ilk, the ok ane agents—the Faithful servants, and fin: ally the victems of the supernaturalistically educated and virtuously inclined majority : The arch tyrant who was at the bottom of all this, I shall take in ie presently, and show how to conquer ; ay, annihilate him. If the grand truth was taught us from our cradles, that we can no more expect well doing without the requisite materialistic conditions, than we can expect a watch to 1] keep time except on condition that ey ery wheel and spring shall be in artistic harmony with each other, where w; yuld be malice! And if we practiced in accordance with this grand truth, where would be either wholesale or retail murder? w here would be wrong of ¢ any description ? “T don’t know about that,” methinks T hear the mildest of the old fogies ocities indubitable it would be impos- * ea? ban oe | rer: A * . iA ‘ A 7 a . a . 7 Ps ‘ - r ~ “* » 7) : . 4 « - be . os Ales te eae | s2t%On have gained the most. ie PERIOD THIRD. He at last sailed from Havre, on the Ist of September, 1802, and arrived in Baltimore on the 30th of October folllowing. From Baltimore he went to Washington, where he was kindly received by the President, Thomas Jefferson. This gentleman thought so highly of him, that a few days before his arrival, he remarked to a friend,—“ If there be an office in my gift, suit- able for him to fill, I will give it to him; I will never abandon old friends to make room for new ones.” Jefferson was one of the few among Paine’s ¢lustrious friends, who never joined the priest-ridden multitude against him. He corresponded with him up to the time of his death. Mr. Paine was now between sixty and seventy years of age, yet vigorous in body, and with a mind not at all impaired. Of the manner in which he was generally received on his return to the United States, we can form a very fair judgment from the following letter to his friend, Clio Rickman :— My Dear Frienp,—Mr. Monroe, who is appointed minister extraordinary to France, takes charge of this, to be delivered to Mr. Este, banker in Paris, to be forwarded to you. I arrived at Baltimore 30th October, and you can have no idea of the agitation which my arrival occasioned. From New Hampshire to Georgia (an extent of 1500 miles) paper 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 friendship and affection to your wife and family, and in the circle of our friends. Yours in friendship, THOMAS PAINE. CMe PY news- With respect to the course which Mr. Paine intended for the future to pursue, he Says :— Fa ee ae ue exclaim. Well, my dear fellow biped, I'll tell you one thine you do most assuredly feel to be true; and you know it to be true, pable of the slightest connection of ideas. It is this. The present method of reforming the world, has, since the most barbarous age, never done aucht but make it a great deal worse. Are people more honest or less callant now than they ever were? And if civilized nations are not quite so cruel especi- ally in war time, as are savages, is not that clearly traceable to science and art? Show me where man is least cruel, and I will show you where “super- naturalism,” the synonym for ignorance, and the very basis of ‘ virtue n principle, and moralism, has lost the most ground, and wl “ as sure as you are ca- lere science andartPERIOD THIRD. 3 ““T have no occasion to ask, nor do I intend to aceept, any place or office in the government, “There is none it could give me that would in any way be equal to the profits I could make as an author (for I have an established fame in the literary world), could I reconcile it to my principles to make money by my politics or my religion; I must be in everything as I have ever been, a disinterested volunteer; my proper sphere of action is on the common floor of citizenship, and to honest men I give my hand and my heart freely. ‘““T have some manuscript works to publish of which I shall give proper notice, and some mechanical affairs to bring for- ward, that will employ all my leisure time.” From Washington, Mr. Paine went to New York, and put up at the City Hotel, where the mayor and De Witt Clinton called on him; and, notwithstanding the influence of the emis. saries of superstition and their dupes, he was honored with a public dinner by a most respectable and numerous party; and it is worthy of remark that Cheetham, then editor of a demo- cratic daily paper, was particularly officious in helping to make the arrangements. In respect to Cheetham’s fictions about the slovenliness of Mr. Paine, if there had been any truth in his assertions, would not his most intimate friends, sueh as De Witt Clinton, the mayor of New York, and Mr. Jarvis, have noticed it? The truth about this is, that Mr. Paine, though always clean, was as care- less in his dress as were Napoleon and Frederic the Great; and almost as lavish of his snuff. We have the positive and very respectable testimony of Mr. Jehn Fellows, that Mr. Paine’s slovenliness went no further than this, But the sun of liberty had now so evidently passed meri- dian in America that most of the leading politicians of the day considered it for their interests to turn their backs on Mr. Paine; this threw the great martyr to the cause of freedom into the society of a class of people with better hearts, and except in respect of political gambling and fraud, with sounder heads. Among this class was a respectable tradesman, a blacksmith and veterinary surgeon, of the name of Carver. When a boy he had known Paine, who also recollected him by some little services which Carver reminded him that he had performed for him at. Lewes, in Sussex, England; such, for instance, as74 PERIOD THIRD. ® saddling his horse for him. Mr. Carver was comfortably situ- ated, and was honest and independent enough to openly avow the religious opinions of the author of the “ Age of Reason.” Paine boarded. at his house some time before going to live at New Rochelle. In a fit of anger, however, the unsus spicious Mr. Carver after- wards became the tool of Cheetha - “9 circumstance which he (Car ver) sorely 1 regretted to the ie oe his death.” I once met him at a celebration of Paine’s birth-day, and shall never forget the anxiety which the venerable old centle- man exhibited to do aw ay with the wrong impression which the great libeller of Mr Paine had betrayed him into making on the public mind. The circumstances were, 1n short, these : Carver had presented a bill for board to Mr. Paine, which the latter (who, as truly generous peop ynle usua ly are, Was very economica 1) igusidered exhorbit: ant, and, therefore, hastily pro- posed paying offhand, and having nothing more to do with Carver. Carver would probably not t have presented any bill at all, had he not been, just then, in rather aeanenee circum- stances, and at the same time aware that Mr. Paine was in affluence. He got into a passion at the manner in which Mr. Paine treated his claim, wrote him some angry letters, and un fortunately kept copies of them; which Cheetham, without letting him know what use he intended to make of them, man- aged to get hold of and publish after Mr. Paine’s death, though the diffict ulty which elicited them had been immediately and amicably adjusted between the parties concerned. This piece of chicanery, however, cost Cheetham a conviction for libel on Madame Bonneville, who had been, though only by inuendo, mentioned in the letters aforesaid, in a manner which society, in its present state of wisdom, pleases to consider scan dalous. When Mr. Paine went to New Rochelle, he boarded with Mr. Purdy, who lived on his farm. He offered Madame Bon- neville and her two sons his small farm at Bordentown. But that rural retreat was so different from Paris, that she chose to remain in New York, where she taught French occasionally, but was almost wholly supported by Mr. Paine. S Madame Bonneville, though generally amiable, sometimes contracted debts which Mr. Paine conceived unnecessary. She furthermore, says Mr. Vale, ‘‘ did not scruple to send | bills in to him which he had not sanctioned.” ‘T’o check which propensity,PERIOD THIRD, 75 [r. Paime once allowed himself to be sued by a Mr. Wilburn or a debt of thirty- five dollars for her Eee but after non- suiting the plaintiff, he paid the debt. Asa proof that there was never an y ser ious quarrel between Mr. Paine ¢ and Madame Bonneville, that lady, her hushand and family were, as we shall presently see, Mr. Paine’ S prince Lp al leg sent To oblige his friends. Mr. Paine after a vhile left his farm New Rochelle and went back to Carver’s Ag board; where he remained till he took up his residence at the Hause of Mr. Jarvis, the celebrated painter, who relates the following anec- li be of his guest th bs ¢ ‘One af Berne on a very old lady, dressed in a, la; arge scarlet cloak, knocked at the door and ee for ' Thomas Paine. Mr. Jarvis told her he was asleep. ‘Iazs m very sor BY; she said, ee that, for I want to see him very peso ae Thinking it a pity to make an old woman call twice, Mr. Jarvis took her ito Paine’s bed-room and waked hi im. Herose upon one elbow, and then, with an expression of eye that staggered the old woman back a step or tw 0, he asked—‘ What do you want ?— ‘Is your name Paine?—‘ Yes’ § wv ell then, I come from Almighty God to tell you, that if you do not repent of your sins and believe in our ances Saviour esis 6 thrist, you will be damned, and ’—______‘ Poh. poh, it is not tr ‘ue. You were not sent with such an impertinent message. Jarvis, make her go away. Pshaw, he would not send such a foolish old woman as you about with his messages. Go awa vy. Go back. Shut the door. The ee la ely raised both her hands, kept them so, and without saying nother w ord, walke d away in mute etn ishment.” In 1807, Mr. Paine, now in the seventieth year of his age, removed to the house of Mr. Hitt, a bal a ~ 5 1}: : us : Fee oy 7: aS Free discussion and reason have done what little good in church and state affairs it was their function to do, excent as will be hereinafter mentioned, and they are now in both Eng- land and the United Stat s, but the safety-valve which prevents the boiler of the ecclesiastical steam-engine from bursting; and secures political despotism, Swindiing, and corruption, from having to do anything but . hange hands. > oft re sion are now the fifth wheel of the car Reason and tree discussion are 70W tne Hith wheel OL tne car of progress, whose useless noise and comparatively senguler appearance diverts attention from the slow; nay, backward movement, of the other four wheels, and thus prevents any change for the better bein ¢ made. a If, on the continent of E urope, monarchs and the Pope forbid political and religious free disev ssion, it is not because they are afraid that the first will lead to liberty, or the second to practi- cal wisdom. They are perfectly aware that free talking but disturbs political and religious afiairs; and would only displace 6 f 5 > % od * * P 4 J J oe os82 PERIOD THIRD. themselves who are well seated in, and have grown fat on, religious and political abuse, to make way for an ungorged shoal of political and ece Nesinetioal leeches. Passing lightly over the pitiable trash which in the United States more % than in any ee country is palmed off on the multitude for knowledge, look at our higher literature. See how it nabs to the low, and narrow, and unscientific views which confessedly had their rise when man was a mere savage. W here, throughout the U nba States, is the magazine which has the liberal and independent tone of the Westminster Re- view, which hails from the capital of monarchy-governed and confessedly church-taxed England? The most independent magazine of which the United States can boast, is the ‘“‘ Atlantic ily ”? but I have strong misgivings as to whether they whose monied interests are eRe: 1 in it will thank me, or w ould Hunk any one, for su praise. But the orthodox clergy already, owing almost wholly to what mere fractional : science aoe art have done, the laughing stock of nearly the entire Se world, and the head-clergy are writhing u nder tthe tortures of sel f-contempt, in such agony, that the main drift of their preaching is to try, without arousing their dupes, to let the knowing ones (whom curiosity, interest, or a desperate attempt to dispel Sabbatical ennui may have brought into their Les pa dattbieh see that they are not the fools which they, for bread and butter’s sake, pretend to be. The following extract from a letter of Baron Humboldt to his friend Varnhagen Von Ense, is a fair sample of the contempt in which the apostles of mystery are held by men of science: BERLIN, March 21, 1822. My dear friend, so happily restored to me! It isasource of infinite joy to me to lea rn, from your exquisite letter, that the really very delightful society of the Princess’s has benefited you phy sically, n ‘d therefore, as I should say, in my orien mater jalism, mentally a Such a society, blown together chiefly fom the same ae world of Berlin (some what flat and s stale), SaRuinls 4 takes a new shape in the house of Princess Pueckler. It is like the spirit which should breathe life into the state; the material seems ennobled. I still retain your “‘Christliche Glaubenslehre,” [a celebrated work on the Christian Dogma, by Dr. David Paciach Strauss | i who long ago in Potsdam, was so delighted with Strauss’: o Ss ay aAPERIOD THIRD. $33 Life of the Saviour.* One learns from it not only what he loes not be lieve, which is less new to me but rather what kind of things have be -en believed and tau ight by those black coats Parsons) who know how to enslave mankind anew, yea, who ire putting on the armour of their former adversaries. But a still more enc ouraging ee of the case is, that a —man; and that the whole family of man is a grand social orga nism (howey ver, as yet, unjointed), the well- being of every part of which, is ind espensable to that of every ther part. But more of this, s Mr. Paine suffered greatly KR ba °°) RS ct fe A + 1s lsst illness (his disease being dropsy, attended with o ough and constant vomiting), yet his mental fac fleet S remained unimpaired to the last. On the Sth of June, 1809, about nine o’clock in the forenoon, he ex- pired, almost without a struggle. I have, as the reader has seen, noticed some of the little foibles and eccentricities of Mr. Pait ne; not, however, that they were of any account, but simp ly because they attest that he was not su mde harper pertect; that he was not that ridiculous cross between man and “ God,” which the bio: graphe rs ot Washington “ai placed him in the position of appearing to be. Lovers are sure to have their petty quarrels, else they would be indifferent to each other; and when prejud ice Shall be done away with, mankind will love Thomas Paine none the less for the human frailties w macht were just sutlicient to show chat he belonged to human natur Po tes after Mr. Baie death, his remains were taken to New Roch elle, attended by a few friends, and there buried on his farm; and a plain stone was erected, with the following in- scription :— THOMAS PAINE, AUTHOR OF ‘‘COMMON SENSE.” Died June 8, 1809, aged seveniy-two years and five months. * Humboldt’s ‘‘ Letters to Varnhagen Von Ense,” have just been pub- lished by Messrs. Rudd & Carleton: and Str rauss’ “‘ Life of the Saviour, OF, to give the work its full title, ‘The Life of Jesus Critically Examined,” SEASREREA PEAR EDS Goh Pee * | * e . = Pt * 4 ad ate se ey ris he A oni lie 384: PERIOD THIRD. Mr. William Corbett afterward removed the bones of Mr. Paine to England. fn 1839, through the exertions of a few friends of the liberal cause, among whom Mr. G. Vale was very active, a neat monu- ment was erpered over the grave of Mr. Paine. Mr. Frazee, an eminent artist, generously volunteered to do the sculpture. This monument cost about thirteen hundred dollars. On it is carved a representation of the head of Mr. Paine, underneath which is this inscription :— THOMAS PAINE, AUTHOR OF “COMMON SENSE.” Reader, did it ever occur to you, that all the crimes which an individual can commit, are in reality summed up in the word misfortune ? Such is the fact. Socie ty, therefore, not altogether without r 3ason, however regardless of justice, considers nothing more disgraceful than misfortune; and hence it is, that of all the slanders got up to injure the reputation of Mr. Paine, and _ prevent his influence, none have been more industriously circu “get and none have proved more successful, than those eich re re esented him as being in extreme poverty. Without further emark, therefore, I shall call your attention to THE WILL OF THOMAS PAINE. The People of the State of New York, by the Grace of God, Free and Independent, to all to whom these presents shall come or may concern. Send Greeting: Know ye that the annexed is a true copy of the will of Thomas Paine, deceased, as recorded in the office of our sur- rogate, in and for the city and county of New York. In tes- timony whereof, we have caused the seal of ae of our said surrogate to be hereunto affixed. Witness, Silvanus Miller New York, the 3 Tt 7 x . ] i i ord one thousand eicht 4 Esq., surrogate of said county, at the Peal i day of July, in the year of our hundred and nine, and of our 1 independence the thirty-fourth j {* sty : { O} SILVANUS MILLER. pub shad. yy Calvin Blanchard. The translation is by Marian Evans. the accomplished authoress of ‘“‘Adam Bede,” and is pronounced by Strauss him Jule s - self to be most elegantly done and perfectly correct,(ee) eQi PERIOD THIRD. The last will and testament of me, the subscriber, Thomas Paine, reposing confidence in my C reator G od, and in no other being, for I know of no other, nor believe in any other, I, Thomas Paine, of the State of New Yor k, author of the ne entitled ‘“‘Common Sense,” writte nin Phil ade Iphia, in 1 75, and published in that city the beginning of January, 1776, which awaked America toa Declaration of Teal ependence, on tlie fourth of July followi ing, which was as fast as the wor ie could spread th 1rough such an extensive country; author also of the several numbers of the “American Crisis, » thirteen in all, published occasionally during the progress of the revolutions ary wé w—the last is on the peace ; author also of the “Rights of M: an,” parts the first and secon d, written and published in London, ba 1791 and 1792; author also of a work on religion, ‘‘Age-of - eason,’ parts the first and second. N.B. I have a third part By me in manuscript, and an answer to fie Bishop of Landaff; author also of a work, |: ately published, entitled “Exay ee ee n of the passages in the New Testament quoted from the Old, and called prophesies concerning Jesus Christ,” and showing that there are no prophecies of any such person ; a athies also of several other works not here enume! ‘ated—‘‘ Dissertations on the first Princi- ples of Government,”—“ Decline and Fall of the English System of Finance,”—‘“ Aves arian Justice,” ete., etc., make this my last will and testament, that is to say: I ive and bequeath to my executors hereinafter ap pointed, Walter Morton and Thomas Addis Emmet, thirty shares I hold in the New York Pheenix Insurance Company, which cost me 1470 dollars, they are worth now upward of 1500 dollars, and all my mov eats effects, and also the money that may be in my trunk or elsewere at ss time of my decease, paying thereout the expenses of my funeral, in trust as to the said shares, moveables, ‘and money, for Margaret Brazier Bonneville, wife of Nichols Bonneville, of Paris, for her own sole and seperate use, and at her own disposal, notwith. standing her coverture. As to my farm in New Rochelle, | five, devise, and bequeath the same to my said executors, Walter Morton and Thomas Addis Emmet, and to the survivor of them, his heirs and assigns for ever, in trust, nevertheless, to sell and dis spose of the north side thereof, now in the occupation of Andrew A. Dean, be ginning at the west end of the o1 rehard and running in a ena ce the land sold to — Coles, to the end of the f farm, and to apply the money arising from such sale as hereinafter directed. I - to my friends, Walter Morton, of a é a . z m4 | * wort Ts “ot abeeser ess +36 PERIOD THIRD. ‘he New York Phenix Insurance.Company, and Thomas Addis Emmet, counsellor-at-law, late of Ireland, two hundred dollars ach, and one hundred dollars to Mrs. Palmer, widow of Elihu Palmer, late of New York, to be paid out of the money arising from said sale, and I give the remainder of the money arising from that sale, one half thereof to Clio Rickman, of High o1 Upper Mary-la-bone street, London, and the other half to Nicholas Bonneville of Paris, husband of Margaret b. Bonne- ville aforesaid: and as to the south part of the said farm, con- taining upward of one hundred acres, in trust, to rent out the same or otherwise put it to profit, as shall be found most advis- adle, and to pay the rents and profits thereof to the said Mar- caret B.- Bonneville, in trust for her childern. Benjamin Bonneville and Thomas Bonneville, their education and tenance, until they come to the age of twenty-one years, in order that she may bring them well up, give them good and useful learning, and instruct them in their duty to God, and the practice of morality, the rent of the land or the interest of the money for which it may be sold, as hereinafter mentioned, to be employed in their education. And after the youngest of the said children shall have arrived at the age of twenty-one years, in further trust to convey the same to the said children share and share alike in fee simple. But if it shall be thought advis- able by my executors and executrix, or the survivor or survivors of them, at any time before the youngest of the said children shall come of age, to sell and dispose of the said south side of the said farm, in that case I hereby authorize and empower my said executors to sell and dispose of the same, and I direct that the money arising from such sale be put into stock, either in the United States bank stock or New York Phenix Insurance company stock, the interest or dividends thereof to be applied as 1s already directed, for the education and maintenance of the said children: and the principal to be transferred to the said children or the survivor of them on his or their coming of age I know not if the society of people called Quakers admit a person to be buried in their burying-ground, who does not be- long to their society, but if they do, or will admit me, I would prefer being buried there, my father belonged to that profession, and I was partly brought up init. but if it is not consistent with their rules to do this, I desire to be buried on my farm at New Rochelle. The place were I am to be buried to be a square of twelve feet, to be enclosed with rows of trees, and a stone orPERIOD THIRD. 87 post and railed fence, with a head-stone with my name and age engraved upon it, author of “Common Sense.” I nominate, constitute, and appoint one eres Morton, of the New York P he nix Insurance company, and Thomas Addis Emmet, counsellor- at-law, late of Irelanc i uy Margaret B. Bonneville a executors and executrix to this my last will and testament , requesting them the said Walter Morton and Thomas Addis ] mmet, that they will give what assistance they conveniently can to Mrs. Bonneville, and see that the chil lren be well br ough tup. Thus placing confidence in their friet ndship, I herewith take my final leave of them and of the world. T have lived an honest and useful life to n 1ankind ; my time has been spent in doing good; and I die in perfect composure and resignation to the will of my Creator God. Dated this eighteenth ¢ day of January, in the year one thousand eight hundred and nine, and I have also signed my name to the other sheet of this will in testimony of its being a part thereof. Tuomas Pang. (1.8.) Signed, sealed, and published and declared by the testator, in our presence, who, at e request, and in the presence of each * | Xe pas J other, have set our names as witnesses thereto, the words “published and declared” first interlined. WiuiiamM KueEsz, JAMES ANGEVIEN, CorneELiIus RypDER, Debbie Cth) toe ct Te O « N x * on ) * Ty “ ete ak? _* Be a eeATION, CONCLUDING APPLIC CONCLUDING APPLICATION. I HAVE now, so far as I can discover, recorded all the facts in relation to Thomas Paine, with which the public have any eoncern. I have even repeated some things (under protest, be it remembered) with which the public have no business what- ever. But the most important part of the task which, on reference to my title-page, it will be perceived that I undertook, remains to be completed. Everyone will unquestionably draw their own conclusion from facts or what they consider such. But I assure all whom it may concern, that I should not consider myself justified in troubling them with my views on matters of the vast impor- tance of religion or highest t law, and government or social science, had I not devoted to these sub jects long years of assiduous pre- paration; had [ not, rightly or wrong ly, systemized acts > even now, I do so with a full consciousness of my need of vastly more light. oa popes toss - considered, are but the unconnected links of a chain; truth is the chain itself. Facts, in themselves, are worth nothing; it is only the truths that are deducible from them through their systemization that is of use. Brick, and mortar, and beams, are facts; entirely useless, however, until systemized into an edifice. Every man’s life is a fact. but the lives of such men as Rousseau, Paine, Coiate, Luther, and Fourier, are sublime truths which are to he slp to give to the lives of the individuals of our race, all that can be conceived of even “eternal” value. Strictly speaking, all authors are, like Paine, and Rousseau and Comte, heroes. But those writers who merely revamp, or | yey Ie } 1 polish up old, worn out ideas, and then sell them back ae 2 od JAIN 4. {- os = eee ee | ? aT to those from whom they stole, or borrowed, or begged them are no more authors than they are manufactures who steal] e rv i n Lit SUT Aal, borrow, | peg, 0 r buy tor next to nothi Ing, old hats, iron them over and sell them back for new to their former owners. who in . S, 1 tne OgCONCLUDING APPLICATION, 89 delight to find how truly they fit their heads, do not suspect the cheat. It’s a somewhat difficult thing to make new hats fit heads. It’s a Herculean task to make new ideas fit them. It’s next to impossible to make new habits fit mankind. _ The American Revolution, of which Paine was the “author hero,” and the French Revolution, of which Rousseau was the great mover, were, as I trust we have already seen, but closely connected incidents in the grand Revolution which began with man’s instinctive antagonism to all which stands in the way of the perfect liberty which nature has, by one and the same act given him both the desire for, and the assurance of. All which exists or has taken place, is connected with all which ever has existed, or will exist or take place; and unless the historian shows that connection, so far as it has a percep- tible practical bearing history becomes but a mere collection of curious, and otherwise barren details. | have before directed the attention of the reader to the fact, that whoever penned the Declaration of our National Indepen- dance, must have well studied Rousseau’s ‘ Contrat Social.” The Rev. Dr. Smith, in his “ Divine Drama of History and Civilization,” speaks thus of the relation of Rousseau to his time :— “Rousseau was the avenging spirit of the Evangelical Pro- tastants whom monarchical France had massacred or banished. He had the blood and the soul of the Presbyterian in him; but he was drunk with vengeance, and he had, according to his own confession, imbibed with his mother’s milk the hatred of kings, and nourished that hate and kept it warm. He declared that though man was born free he was everywhere in chains. Be- ing gifted with great eloquence, he delighted his readers. He realized the government of the people and became the soul of the Revolution.” “Twelve hundred human individuals,” says Thomas Carlyle, ‘with the Gospel of Jean Jacques Rousseau in their pocket, coneregating in the name of twenty-five millions, with full as- surance of faith, to ‘make the Constitution: such sight, the acme and main product of the eighteenth century, our World can witness only once. For time is rich in wonders, in mon- strosities most rich; and is observed never to repeat himself or any of his Gospels:—surely least of all this Gospel according to Jean Jacques. Once it was right and indispensable, since such had become the belief of man; but once also is enough.” Jy a Fs * a a 5 * a 4 + a at oreyee bee eroessgtereee een es Eid) 90 CONCLUDING APPLICATION, “They have made the Constitution, these Twelve Hundred Jean-Jacques Evangelists.” “A new Fifth Evangelist, Jean-Jacques, calling on men to amend each the whole world’s wicked existence, and be saved by making the Constitution.” Thomas Carlyle in innumerable other cases speaks most lov- ingly of “ Poor Jean Jacques.” In an elaborate critical estimate of Rousseau and the men of the eighteenth century, he says: ‘‘ Hovering in the distance with use—struck minatory air-stern- beckoning, comes Rousseau. Poor J ean-Jaques! Alternately deified and cast to the dogs: a deep-minded, high-minded, even noble, yet woefully misarranged mortal, with all the misforma- tions of nature intensified to the verge of madness by unfavor- able Fortune. A lonely man; his life a long soliloquy? The wandering Tiresias of his time;—in whom, however, did lie prophetic meaning, such as none of the others offer. His true character, with its lofty aspirings and poor performings; and how the spirit of the man worked so wildly like celestial fire in a thick, dark element of chaos, and shot forth etherial radiance. all piercing lightning, yet could not illuminate, was quenched and did not conquer; this, with what lies in it, may now be pretty accurately appreciated,” etc. The world-famous “Confessions” of Rousseau have also powerfully stimulated revolt against the most despotic of tyran- mies that ever enchained the human race. No romance was ever half so interesting. With resistless power their author compels us to himself. Every page chains the reader with electric fascination. With absorbing interest we follow him in every step of his strange sad life. Notascene inthe “ Confes- sions” but what has formed the subject for a master piece by some great artist. Rousseau was one of those men whose fame the world has taken into its own hands. One of those big- hearted, truth-loving, high-aspiring, yet sad-fated, stumbling oO > | 5) men, whose sufferings have been made up for by an eternal meed of tenderness and love. He has been taken into the heart of mankind. Perhaps nothing could more markedly manifest the place Jean Jacques holds in the heart of the world than the love and reverence which have been lavished on him by all the high- souled poets and writers in every land since his day. Goethe, Schiller, Jean Paul, Shelley, Brougham, Byron, Carlyle, Tenny- son, ete, etc. All that is fresh and lofty and spiritual in theCONCLUDING APPLICATION. OF new Hrench school of Poetry and Literature, is distinctly trace- able to Rousseau. Bernadin de Saint Pierre, Mad. de Stael, Chateaubriand, Lamartine, etc., etc., were successively formed under his influence, and adoringly worshipped him as their master. Thomas Carlyle, in a conversation with Emerson (see English Traits, p. 22), while speaking of the men who had in- fluenced the formation of his character, declared that Rousseau’s “Confessions” had discovered to him that he (Carlyle) was not a dunce. R. W. Emerson, too, speaks of “The Confessions ” as a book so umportant in literature, that tt was well worth while to trans- late. . . its courage and precision of thought will keep it good.” And the high-souled Schiller hymns Rousseau thus: “Hail grave of Rousseau! here thy troubles cease ! Thy life one search for freedom and for peace: Thee peace and freedom life did ne’er allow : Thy search is ended, and thou find’st them now! When will the old wound scar! In the dark age Perish’d the wise. Light comes—how fared the sage? The same in darkness or in light his fate, Time brings no mercy to the bigot’s hate! Socrates charmed philosophy to dwell On earth; by false philosophers he fell: In Rousseau Christians marked their. victim—when Rousseau endeavored to make Christians men !” o a * is * z * OI a et es eegeue ss Reader, please to skip the next six paragraphs, unless you can pardon a digression (and I must confess to have given you some exercise in that respect already), and unless you further- more love liberty, justice, and equal rights, not as things to be merely talked about, sung about, and “ tought, bled and died ” about, but as practical realities. In a state of bliss in perfect contrast with what generally passes for married life, Rousseau spent several years with Madam De Warens; a lady of noble birth, who was in comfort- able circumstances, enjoying a pension from Victof Amadeus, king of Sardinia. She was the wife of a man with whom she could not live happily, and from whom she therefore separated. Rousseau, in his ‘‘ Confessions,” thus describes her: “All who loved her, loved each other. Jealousy and rivalry themselves yielded to the dominant sentiment she inspired ; and I never saw any of those who surrounded her, entertain the slightest ill-will towards each other.” ‘I hazard the assertion, that if Soc- rates could esteem Aspasia, he would have respected Madam de Warens.” ‘Let my reader,” continues the enamowed philoso-92 CONCLUDING APPLICATION. pher, “pause a moment at this eulogy; and if he has in his mind’s eye any other woman of whom he can say this much, let him, as he values his life’s repose, cleave to her, were she, for the rest, the lowest of drabs.” After eight years of bliss with Madam de W arens, that lady’s taste, though not her affections, changed. Rousseau, also wish- ng to visit Paris, they parted in perfect friendship. At Paris, R osseau resumed the free-love De eiee with Therése Le Vas. seur, a young girl of small accomplishments, but of a most ami- able disposition. Some of the highest nobles in France (in- cluding the king and queen) did ge disdain to treat her with mar ked respect ; end Ps Rousseau’s death, the government of France pearioned Therese, instead of letting her die c of hunger, as the government of England, to its eternal disgrace, gs suffered Lady Harnilt on, the mistress of Lord Nelson, to do, although to that accomplished Lady and to her infffnence and shrewd management at the court of Naples, England owes the victory of Trafalear, One morning, w Halse the king and his ministers lay snoring, she managed to obtain from her intimate friend the queen, a permit for her gallant free-lover, Nelson, to. water his fleet at Naples; but for which, he could not have pursued and conquered the French at Trafalgar, His last request of the country for whose cause he was dying, was,—“' Take ¢ care of my dear Lady Hamilton.” : Yet England was too “virtuous ” to prevent Lady Hamilton from depending on the charity of a poor &rench washer-woman : and from having, at last, to starve to death. in a garret, in the capital of the nation whose navy had been almost destroy ed through her management and her lover’s braver yO Wipers and “piety” readily accept the services of those th. y impudently style “vicious” and “profane,” but generally consider it very scandalous to reward them. Some oftthe most “virtuous ” citizens in every country Christendom do not hesitate to eat the bread and wv ear the clothes purchased with the rent of those . from present social institutions — ~ prosti > and churches and missionaries, draw large revenues from these “necessary evils” as they are c cantingly called. Necessary evils? If there is a “sin” which a Just “God” could punish, it is that of admitting that there exists this “sin” iS & most efficient pi ‘olonge sr of the damnation of the human raee, curses inseparabl: itut ion dens ee “necessary evils ; iorCONCLUDING APPLICATION, 93 But England did build monuments to Nelson, and he has had all the honor of the victory of Trafalgar. Why did not Lady Hamilton come in for a share of that honor? In addition to what we have seen she did to procure that victory, can any gallant man doubt, ae her charms were the main stimulus of Nelson’s courage? What dangers would not a man that was a man brave, in order to swell with delight, admiration, and jus¢ approval, the heart of her whom he adored, and who /reely- loved ham ? Reader, did you ever ask yourself why it is that gallant men (and almost all notable men are gallant) are applauded in high ete and are comparatively little blamed or frowned upon among the million? Surely, gallantry 1 in were is really no more ‘“‘ vicious” than it is in man; it is simply because, owing to ¢norance with respect to the regulation of love affairs, it is more inconvenient that it is more discountenanced. Itis because women have to be, under present institutions, considered as chat- tels; as articles of luxury; which no man wants to be at the ex- pense of, except for his own pleasure, of cowrse. But for ignor- ance of how to fully gratify every natural de sire, there would be no such words as either virtwe or vice in the dictionary; and how- ever amiable it is for people to forbear to gratify themselves un any respect, at the expense of others, still, we should constantly bear in mind that all the honor that has ever been bestowed on ‘virtue ” and self-denial, is promarly due to ignorance and povr- erty , to ignorance of | how to cre ate the means whereby to dispense with “virtue,” self-denial, ay, and even that most virtuous of all the virtues, arity; to ignorance of how to develop, modify, and combine th ‘bstantial. till desire is but the measure of fulfill. ment—till to will is but the precursor of to have Hum rogress 1s cenerally divisable into three Ages == the ace of my stery, the age of reason, and the ace of practical scvence and art. These answer to th e theological, the critical and the positive stages of the Grand Revolution just as uded to: of which revolution, the ‘‘author hero” was AUGUSTE COMTE. 5 ep ee a ET aR es as To nthar- Rousseau and Paine had their forerunner in Martin Luther: > Comte’s John Baptist: was Charles Fourier. To Martin Luther and Charles ‘F ourier, mankind are almost as much indebted, as to those for whom these prepared the way. Fourier was far more in eee of his time than was Lu- ther: still, Luther’s step was much the most perilous to himselt. eee 5 4 dl om ‘ J ay 4 “a + = : + _ Ps in * . s 7 © o . * - - - a a e *\*qe*94 CONCLUDING APPLICATION, Whoever can look on the picture [I saw it in the Dusseldorf Gallery] of Luther at the Dict of Wovtis, with dry eyes, with- out feeling an admiration near akin to adoration for The Man who would go where the cause of liberty called him, “though there should be there as many devils as tiles on ae ro nee must be made of sterner stuff than I am. Look on that incarnation of bravery. See mow undaunted that single repr esentativ e of the cause of the human race stands, amidst the terrible array of princes a1 aa bishops. There were six hundred of them; headed by the Emperor himself. As fearlessly as Paine first openly pronounced those trea- sonable words—“ American Indeper idence,” Luther has dared to burn the Pope’s bull, even when there was not a crowned head in all Christendom but trembled at that awful document. Surely the heart that warms for Paine must glow for Luther. Materialist though 1 am, I do reverence that brave monk. Had the Elector of Saxony been the most absolute monarch that ever reigned; and had the Landgrave of Hesse ine as many wives* and concubines as the wisest man, in Jehovah’s estima .tion, that ever was or ever will be, is said to ibis had, these princes would nevertheless deserve the eternal oratitude of mankind, for the protection they afforded to the great apos- tle of reform, but for the division, in the ranks of despotism, which he created, a Rousseau and a Paine could not so soon have preached liberty, nor could a Fourier and a Comte as yet have indicated how to put tt into practice. : To the zeal and liberality of Mr. Albert Brisbane, and to the scholarship of Mr. Henry Clapp, Jr., are English readers indebted for an introduction to Fourier’s great work, “The Social Destiny of Man.”+ And the same class of readers are similarly indebted to Mr. Lombe and Miss Harriet Martineau * “ All the theologians of Witiuiner re assembled to draw up, an answer [to the Landgrave’s petition to be allowed to have two wives], and the result was @ con apromise. He was allowed a double marria: ge, on condition that his second wife should not be publicly recognized.” Fe ts nevertheless, your highness is fully resolved to take a second wife, We are of opinion that the marriage should be secret.’ “Given at Wittemberg, after the festival of St. Nicholas, 1539,—M: “4 tin Luther, Philip Melancthon, Martin Bucer, A ntony Corvin, Adam, John Lening,, Justin Wintfert, Dionisius Melanther.’ — Michelet’s “ Lite of Luther + Published by Calvin Blanchard. + paaet * : wi ni ny 7 . + Betw een whom and Mr. Atkins son, there took place that admirable correspondence o~ he subject of the ‘‘ Laws of Man’s Nature and Develop-CONCLUDING APPLICATION, 95 he latter aided by Professor Nichol) for being enabled to acquaint themselves with “The Positive Philosophy of Auguste omte.”* These great works are carrying on a constructive , and there- fore noiseless and unoster ntatious revolution; they do not (par- ticularly the latte r) oe to the common underst: anding, and ¥ the masses will know but little about them, until they | Yoel their beneficient effects. But the keen Sheastox and the soe cial irtist perceive that they have already elven a new tone to al] oe e higher literature of Western } Europe, and even, to some ‘xtent, to that of the United States. "Tis strange that they who are capacitated to think truth, have made the unf fortunate blunder of not seein; ¢ that by the masses, truth of any great degree of com- plexity can only be felt. Their religion is addressed almost th should so or nerally wholly to their feeling. Their knoc Ik down argument to all osition, is, “J feel it to be true.” A more unreasonable nT heme never emanated from Bed llam, than that of plying the nasses with reason, on subjects so complic ated as are religion sa sociology. Has not oo e experiment uniformly proven the truth of what I here assert? Reason is , of course, connected unth everything v eons a sane person voluntarily does or thinks of. It is connected with the construction of the steam engine; and should be similarly and only sumilarly connected dbs social architecture. Numerous = to which the name of Fourier has been attached, have failed. But there was not one of them vhich bore ie most distant resemblance to the system of the great master, whose name they so over- -zealously and rashly appropriated. A very successful trial of the household economies of Fourier has been going on in New York for the last three years, under the Blanageniet of Mr. E. F. Underhill. His “* Cosmopolitan Hlotel”” comprises four elegant five story brown stone front houses, hated in the most fashionable part of Fourteenth- Street. The world has been prevented from becoming acquainted with Fourier’s magnificent discoveries in social architecture, mainly 1 throu gh the agency of the blackest aud most impudent L ment,” repu tblished in a neat volume by ‘Mr, Da Mendum, ‘publisher of the “ Boston Investigator.” * Published by Calvin Blanchard. ‘PURASTERSATEAR SLE Sede rere el dieser res* . 4 . * * . * * a) PY ad a a ‘ a a a am "$e" eho e TS Lata96 CONCLUDING APPLICATION. falsehood ever uttered. Fourier’s system has been denounced as communism; whereas it is the very opposite of that. Our present social hod¢e-podge is Skidmoreism itself, when com- pared with the system of which ‘“‘The Social Destiny of Man,” notwithstanding its incidental and non-essential errors, is a bold and true outline. Next in importance to the discoveries of Comte, are Fourier’s with respect to the human passions, and with respect to the equitable adjustment of the claims of labor, skill, and capital. But Fourier’s system was, so to speak, the edifice in advance of the foundation on which alone it could stand. eal liberty, substantial happiness, and practical goodness, must have a material basis. That basis has been furnished by Auguste Comte. Mr. Lewes, in his “ Biographical History of Philosophy,”* says: ‘Comte is the Bacon of the nineteenth century. Like Bacon, he fully sees the cause of our intellectual anarchy, and also sees the cure. We have no hesitation in recording our conviction that the “Course de Philosophie Positive” is the greatest work of our century, and will form one of the mighty landmarks in the history of opinion. No one before him ever dreamed of treating social problems otherwise than upon theo- logical or metaphysical methods. He first showed how possi- ble—nay, how imperative—it was that social questions should be treated on the same footing with all other scientific ques- tions.” And Mill, in his “System of Logic,” speaks thus of “The Positive Philosophy:”—“ A work which only requires to be better known, to place its author in the very highest class of European thinkers. . . A sociological system widely 1 : - LOS removed from the vague and conjectural character of all for. mer attempts, and worthy to take its place, at last, amon: i 3 } U Ov, CLLIUITY established sciences. . . . A work whichI hold to be fa; the greatest yet produced in the Philosophy of the Sciences. - iN x F is ¥ . He (Comte) may truly be said to have created thi philosophy of the higher mathematics. . . . Whose view a f *7 — > = ss ee . ais : . 1° ge of the philosophy of classification is the most erudite with which I am acquainted. . . . His works are the only source to which the reader can resort for : practical exemplhifi- MINK 36 warlk chan! > 1 Q ne? a ; 3 : : che = * ‘This work should be in the possession of every scientifie lover of liberty It is published by D. Appleton & Co. + Published by Harper & Brothers.CONCLUDING APPLICATION. 97 cation of the study of social phenomena on the true principles of the Historical Method. Of that method I do not hesitate to pronounce them a model.” “Clearness and depth, comprehensiveness and precisicn have never, probably, been so remarkably united as in Auguste Comte,” says Professor Gillespie, of Union College, New York. The following extracts from an article (understood to be by Sir David Brewster) which appeared in the “ Edinburgh Re- view,” will also give some further idea of the aim and charac- ter of “The Positive Philosophy :” ‘A work of profound science, marked with great acuteness of reasoning, and conspicuous for the highest attributes of in- tellectual power. It comprehends MatTHEMATICs, ASTRONOMY, Puysics, and CurEmistry, or the sciences of Inorganic Bodies; and PuysioLoey, and Soctat Puysics, or the sciences of Organic Bodies. ‘Under the head of Soctan Puysics the author treats of the general structure of human societies, of the fundamental natural law of the development of the human species, and of the progress of civilization. This last Section is sub-divided into thrée heads—the THroLogicat Epocu, the METAPHYSICAL Epocu, and the Posrrive Ergcu—the first of these embracing FETISHISM, PoLYTHEISM, and MonoTHeism.” Referring to the Astronomical part of the work, the Reviewer says, “ We could have wished to place before our readers some specimens of our author’s manner of treating these difficult and deeply interesting topics—of his simple, yet powerful eloquence—of his enthusiastic admiration of intellectual super- iority—of his accuracy as a historian, his honesty as a judge, and of his absolute freedom from all personal and national feelings.” But the mental effort which produced the ‘ Positive Philoso- phy ” was too much for the brain of any one man to make with impunity, as the subsequent writings of the great positivist show. With respect to these, aud particularly to Comte’s ‘“‘ Positive Religion,” Mr. Lewes very considerately remarks,— “let us draw a veil over them;” and I, who have made Comte a study, will add, that any other view than this, with respect to the writings which Comte sent forth to the world after the “ Positive Philosophy,” is most unjust. The clergy are at length aware that the slander and abuse which they have bellowed forth from the pulpit against Paine, ‘ 5 : : 7 » 4 4 5 Li - 3 4 F - “9e peluserrseead 98 CONCLUDING APPLICATION. have advertised his works more effectually than ten per cent. of their own salaries could have done through the newspapers ; and hence the profound silence which they maintain with re- spect to the personality of Comte, and to the name of “Whe Positive Philosophy.” Priests know that the world’s old religion is dead; but they mean to prolong its decay to the utmost, in order to feed, like carrion crows, on its rotten carcass; they therefore take every precaution against having it stirred up. Observe in what general terms the “black coats,” as Hum- boldt styles the parsons, denounce the materialism with which all the high talent of the age in which we live is imbued. They do not wish to let their dupes know that such men as Humboldt and Comte did not believe in the existence of the extra-almighty pedant whom they seat on the throne of the universe. We have already seen that the author of “Cosmos”* not only held superstition and its ministers in as utter contempt as as did he who wrote “The Age of Reason,” but that he was furthermore a thorough materialist; and the author of “The Positive Philosophy” has mathematically annihilated a God who can have no practical existence to man, together with the supposed foundation of a faith, the further teaching of which ean but hold human perfection in abeyanee. Yet the aristoc- racy of Europe were proud of the companionship of Humboldt, and emperors and kings presented him with testimonials of their high regard. As to Auguste Comte, it is rumored that the Emperor Napoleon III. held frequent conferences with him ; and the encouragement which that monarch is giving to men of science is matter of public notoriety. But how does “The Model Republic” compare with monarch- ical Europe in these vitally important matters? Is not the noise which, in the United States, is made al hollow as is the din with which our loud-belled churches call their congregations to the worship of him who they neverthe- less say enjoined secret devotion ? é In a country where no throned sovereign bears sway, where no crowned pope sends forth his bull forbidding the offices of human kindness to be extended to those who have incurred his displeasure, what dread tyrant willed that Thomas Paine should be shunned by many of his illustrious compeers ;—that his —_—. out freedom, as * Republished by Messrs. Harper & BrothersCONCLUDING APPLICATION, 99 bones should be refused a resting place beside those of even the least persecuting and vindictive of all the Christian sects; that his name should be almost left out of the history of the glorious leeds which his inspiration caused to be performed, and even 0 this day, be held in utter abhorrence by nearly all those for whose welfare his life and splendid talents were so cheerfully devoted? Who is that tyrant ? ‘¢ Priestcraft |” readily answer they who zealously advocate popular free discussion, and an appeal to popular opinion, as a means of finding out how to deal with those most important and complicated of all affairs,—religion and government. ‘“Priestcraft!” they exclaim ; as they lavish their carefully mmsystemrzed sociological Jacts, their critical expositions, and their logical deductions, upon the horrified, astounded and enraged, but not at all edified multitude. Well, my friends, betwee q t a aL 1 you and me, I must acknowledge that you have slapped that tyrant’s prime minister full in the face. Try it again. But first gather up your pearls, lest the many before whom you have indiscriminately cast them, and who want something of which they can make @ far more prac- tical and satisfactory use, turn upon and “rend you.” “Tenorance! of course we know that priestcraft thrives on ionorance. L[gnorance is that tyrant;” methinks IT hear you further answer. Yes, my friends, ignorance is that tyrant. But still, the most important, and by far most difficult question remains unanswered, He is not ignorance of the fact that the Bible is of human origin. The Bible is but one of the weather-cocks which tell which way the wind of popular folly blows. The Koran is another, and so is the Book of Mormon. And they are all rather useful than otherwise, as they furnish sugges- tions as to the course to be pursued by scientific and artistic reformers. He is not ignorance with respect to reading, writ- ing, geography, grammar, arithmetic, Greek, Latin; in short, he is not ignorance of anything which has hitherto been taught or thought of in any school or college. | “Dl tell you what he is ignorance of, presently ; and, at the same time, I will demonstrate how to liberate man from his despotism, and rescue the memory of Thomas Paine from the reproach which has been so unjustly, so blindly, or else so un- mtentionally heaped upon it. , eae Are such rights as English Constitutionalisw can give us e a ty. - s o : * | 4 oes es4 . nL rs adh: Y je ps LETS} wet 100 CONCLUDING APPLIGATION. worth contendmg for? Independence is the only measure that can be of any avail; substantially said Thomas Paine to those more cautious rebels who, at the commencement of “the times that tried men’s : ouls,” were glooming over the miserable effects which half measures had produced. Are such shams of rights as caucus-and-ballot-boxism can give us, worth spending any more time, and money, and agita- tion upon? I ask, and appeal to what has been most lyingly named free government in Greece, Rome, England, Venice, France, the United States, and wherever else it has been at- tempted to make permanent the crisis stage of progress which marks the departure from monarchy. No, my friends, Art- Liberty alone, can be of any avail. Art-Liberty may now sound as strange as did American In- dependence when first pronounced by Thomas Paine 3 ay, and as treasonable, too. Still, I repeat, nothing short of Art- Liberty can prevent the freedom-experiment which Paine so powerfully incited, from failing in the United States, as badly as it has in every other country where it has been tried. How far short of such failure is that experiment now? when statesmen, and philosophers, ay, and philanthropists, are seriously discussing the question, whether “free-laborers” or “slaves” have the most uncomfortable time of it? Look at the opaque web of entanglement which our “ repre- sentatives ” have wove, or “enacted” for us, and called “law.” Look at the wretched and expensive farces which the adminis. terers of these “laws” play, under the name of “trials,” Are caucusing, balloting, “constitutions,” “laws,” and jury-trial- justice the sum and substance of the laberty for which Paine stimulated that glorious band which Washington led, to sacri- fice their lives? Is this the end of the revoluion which “ Com- mon Sense ” instigated? Was the earth fertilized and the ocean reddened with human blood, and were both earth and ocean strewn with the ashes and the wrecks of human skill and industry, in order to demagogism? In fine, are nature’s resources fully ex] only to produce such a miserable abortion that her being, man, abjures her for the ‘supernatural ?” cannot be so. Reader, did you ever notice the fact that the United States Government and that of Russia are, and have always been on remarkably loving terms with each other? Well, this is but achieve 21austed, highest Surely thisCONCLUDING APPLICATION. 101 as natural as it is for “birds of a feather te flock together.” The ag systems of both Russia and America, are, about equally, as pure absolutisms as governments can be. In Russia, the head of the majority-despotism which tyrannizes, is designated by birth. The Russian Government is a simple despotism, modifiable by assassination. In the United States, the band of conspirators for wholes the head, or directory of the majority is designated by caucus, fr ale violence and wrong,— despotism which tyrannizes, aud, and ballot-box jugglery; aided by perjury, bribery, corruption, and by the occasional use of the first, the bludgeon, the dagger, and the pistol. The difference between Russian and essential, that no two shown such marked American despotism is so non- great governments in the world have good feeling for each other, as have that of the Czar and those favorites with whom he shares the spoils, and that of the President, by whom and his sycophants, the United States is freshly subjugated and plundered every four years. But what do you mean by Art-Liberty? Methinks I hear those ask who have not already hid their stupidity from them- selves, under that common cover of dullness,—‘“ Utopia.” By Art-Liberty, my friends, I mean the practical appli- cation of all science and art systemized, as fast as unfolded. The only law which can govern a free state must be discov- ered; it must be drawn from the whole of scrence and art; not “enacted;” human law can no more be “enacted” than can physical law. Art-Liberty will be the crowning art of arts in developing nature’s resources, of discovering and modifying her laws, and of combining her powers till “creation” shall be complete, till supply shall be adequate to demand; till nature’s grand end, which the aim of her highest consciousness unstinciiwely indi- cates, is attained; till nature’s highest organism, man, attains to happiness not only perfect, but lasting enough to fully satisfy this five-sense nature without recourse to “ beyond the skies;” till aH physical obstacles to man’s liberty to be happy are re- moved, even to the unfriendliness of climate! Not, by such fanciful means as that great seer, Fourier, supposed, but wholly through the working, with nature, of science and art, which have conquered steam and electricity, and made so many other things which were inimical to man’s happiness, the very means of promoting it; and which will make the good of everything,102 CONCLUDING APPLICATION, through use, in exact proportion to its present evil, throuch abuse or neglect. Man’s leaders, must find out how to satisfy man’s highes+ aspirations, instesd of catering for his pre) judices ; instead of confirming him, by flattery and cajolery, in his false, superna- turalistic “notions: instea ud of studying the trickery of repre- senting and plundering him. And they will rapidly find this out, as soon as a knowl edge (already attained) of the wnaty of science, spreads among them, and along with it, its correllate, —that all mankind are one organism, no individual of which can be indifferent to each and all of the others. Enlightened, fat-seeing, all-benefiting selfishness will then take the place of short-sighted, suicidal, penny-wise pound-foolish cunning; and that barricade of hypocrisy,—duty, that most fallible of all guides,—conscience, and “virtue” and “vice,” those most un- scientific and mischievous expressions that have ever crept into the vocabulary of human folly, will be obsolete. Let us draw a picture of the condition of things which the current schemes of politics, religion, moralism, ‘‘ virtue,” and “law” must very shortly produce, if they had un ape one sway —if the requ uirements of both our civil and reli_ious guides were fully complied with : If all contracts in accordance with present ‘‘law” were ful- filled to the letter, and if all the “‘duties” enjoined by the present moralism were unflinchingly performed, and if all which “virtue” styles ‘‘vice” was entirely abstained from, and if what is now ‘“‘free trade” according to “law,” had “fair field,” how long would it take a millionth of the earth’s inhabitants to accumulate all its wealth? In my opinion, it would not take ten generations to produce that reign of ‘‘law,” “principle,” “morality,” “virtue,” and ‘free trade,” or “‘mind-your-own business,’—and-every-one-for-himself-ism, on the earth, But there must be no stealing, swindling, or robbery, as legally defined, on any account; and there must be no sexual intercourse out of the bonds of monogamy, even for bread ; and above all, there must be no acts, or even words of treason. The laboring man and the laboring woman, must patiently and slowly (nay, not very slowly I’m thinking) ) die on such wages as they who, in perfect security, hold all the wealth, chose - to give; and those out of work must brave martyrdom to “principle,” by starving, straightway, unless they can obtain aCONCLUDING APPLICATION. 103 “permit,” to drag out a few months, possibly years, in sack- cloth ansie on water-gruel in an alms-house.* In all soberness, I ask, is not this a fair statement of the case 4 ae therefore, is not an entire change, religious, social, and moral, the only thing that can cure present re! ligious, s social, and moral disease? And who are nearest to the “kingdom of heaven?” who are, least obstructive to the “millenium ?” they who are now considered moral, virtuous, and re spectable, or they whom such term immoral, vicious, and the vilest of the vile ? The only thing that ever made me seriously consider whether or not “Jesus ” was a divine perso nage, was the preference which he uniformly gave to “sinners,” ‘ ey icans and har- lots,” even, over the “Scribes, Pharisees and hypocrites,” who performed all which “the law” and moralism required. And [ must confess that I am still astonished that any one should, almost two thousand years ago, so fully have understood what so very few, even now, have any conception of. Yet this, the ’ 1 i iB re aN E Sree eee ay strongest argument which can be adduced to prove “ Christ’s ” 14 divinity. the cd \ctors of that GLY rinity have never, tO my know- » Need I add that the reason is very eVi- ledge. brought ly dent? Of course, were the doctors aforesaid to make a thorough use of this argument, they would upset the whole o present, political, legal, and mora 2 scheme. Well, would it not be best to overthrow it by any means whatever ? or, to put the question more justly, can present ‘‘institutions” be too soon or too thoroughly super seded by those which Art-Liberty, but for them, would produce ? Opinionism and moralism, like “supernatu calism,” (of 7 which they are the refinement) have ages since, exhausted what little power for good they ever had, and became so e xceedingly mor- bific to the social organism, that they cannot be too speedily excreted. Reason and free discussion were once, in the fifth century, I believe, seriously engaged on the question as to whether angels could go from one point to another without passing through intermediate space; and I myself, in the nine- teenth century, have heard reason aan free discussion on the question as to whether there was or was not a personal devil ; *T claim to have Shere made a very hehe eaite concession ; for I have ene doubts as to whe ther old fogyism, if it had it all its own way, and had not the slightest fear of being disturbed, would furnish even alms- -houses, saclc- cloth, and water-gruel to any of its victims ; to those who were too ‘‘ shift- less” to take care of themselves. SELSTOTUrirr saree Pee > $. + i Ly > ‘ oy * watt ee fre ye bar seoese104 CONCLUDING APPLICATION, nay, that devil’s tail was actually discussed and reasoned upon. How much progress have reason and free discussion made since the fifth century? Have they made any? Are we not indebted for every bit of liberty we enjoy now, more than mankind did then, to science and art? always excepting what little good reason and free discussion of subjectivism have done as very common and proportionably subordinate auxiliaries, during crisis-stages of revolution. Then, these weapons, when wielded by such men as Thomas Paine, were of use ; nay would have been of use, had the social structure which they were the instru- ments of tearing down been replaced by one really new, in- stead of by one built of the damaged, ay, even rotten materials of the old one. Paine did all which he could be expected to do: but his noble efforts were not seconded ; for they who wield his weapons now resemble those soldiers who, instead of attack- ing fresh foes, continue to thrust their swords into the bodies of the slain. Was Thomas Paine here to-day, his old remedies, religious and political vopular free discussion and reasoning would be thrown aside; or only used to assist science and art to displace them in religious and state affairs. How otherwise could he be Thomas Paine? He who was the very incarnation of revolution? True, he trusted that he should “never use any other weapons than those of reason ;’* but he had before trusted that British constitutionalism was the best possible thing for the State. Yet how widely and nobly did he after. wards change his course in that respect ; and would he not now see full as much cause as he did then, for taking another tack 2 Can any sensible person, who would honor his memory, say that he would not? say that he would be satisfied with the despotism which caucus-and-ballot-boxism has palmed off on us, or with any of the means hitherto used to get rid of it? Man’s right to be self-governed is, equally with his desire to * “The most formidable weapon against errors of every kind is Reason. I have never used any other, and I trust I never shall ;”? says Faine, in his dedication of ‘The Age of Reason” to his ‘‘fellow-citizens of the United States of America.” But he had dreadful experience of the rebound against himself, which the blows that he dealt with supe! imself, w h that weapon caused. And super- stition is fully as rampant with the multitude now, as it was before the ‘‘Age Ps ee ieee een Le we Sis heh +6 : } : aot of Reason ” was written ; and it is as rife how, as it then was, even with . 2 3 . _ . - > ? E : the higher classes: with the exception that js Clearly traceable to science and art. Every man of intelligence at all above the vulgar knows, that not > [4 4 7 ae x 11. c . > Pe : only Ethan Allen, Jefferson, and Franklin “were infidels” as the phrase is : T : a sa . re Be 7 + : : ' : A q : a but that Latayette, and, in Tact, nearly all the other revolutionary wortiies, no more believed in the “dix inity ” of ‘‘ The Bible,” than Paine didCONCLUDING APPLICATION. 105 be so, self-evident. But what is more insultingly termed “ elec- tive” franchise, is the farthest thing possible from self-govern- ment. It is, except as a transient or crisis-stage expedient, of all fallacies the most monstrous. As a permanency, it has no type, and consequently no warrant throughout nature. In every instance where majorityism has become chronic, it has proved as bewildering and destructive to the social organism, as the worst insanity proves to the individual. There is no record of society’s being afflicted with the caucus-and-ballot-box mania for any considerable length of time, without having to be confined in the straight jacket of military despotism; or prescribed a double dose of essentially the same kind of tyranny from which it had been so madly supposed that an escape had been made. What, then, I ask, in behalf of Thomas Paine, whose distinguishing characteristic was to ‘go ahead,” is the use of fooling any longer with the speculative, abstract, tanta- lizing shadows of human rights, which our corrupt, spoil-seek- ing demagogues impudently palm off on us for liberty? And why persist longer in repeating the miserable religious and moral failures into which our religious and moral quacks plunge us ? To what purpose have both religion and politics been so freely discussed, for nearly a century past, in the United States, by all who had more tongue than brain, and more vanity than depth of research? This is not saying that some wise and very worthy people have not also been led into the fallacy that ab- stract subjectivism was sufficient to remedy despotism. I was once in that unfortunate predicament myself; and the axiom of Thomas Jefferson (I believe it was Jefferson’s, at any rate it is the axiom of his loudest followers) was, that error may be safely trusted where reason is left free to combatit. But I ask in all soberness, has error been safely trusted in the United States, though reason is there as free to combat it as the moa jority willletit be? And with what good effect, so for as social architecture is concerned, have carefully culled, and almost as carefully isolated facts been laid before the multitude, whose views are necessarily confined to the specialities which consti- tute their calling, since the acute stage of revolution in this country ? I tell you that facts to be worth anything, must be system- ized; and that, too, immeasurably more in social or state affairs than in any others; and that this requires the wisest heads that106 CONCLUDING APPLICATION. can grow on human shoulders, aided by al/ science and art, and by the most laborious and uninterrupted pi ‘eparation. Social Science is the art of arts, not the art of political trickery. In spite of all the freedom of the tongue and of the press which the majority will allow to be exereeeds or can allow to be exercised till social science and art take charge of education, is not our political system corrupt to the very core? Are not they who have charge of the public treasury a very gang of thieves? And are not they whom “elective franc hise” places at the head of affairs, plunging the nation into brankr uptey every few years, and at shor’ ter and shorter intervals, by their reckless wastefulness, i in letting the life-blood of industry, as now carried on—money—pour abroad like water, for the sake of catching their dippers full of it? And as to religion:—has not the empire state, New York, in 1860, enacted Sunday-laws which would have done credit to the Blue Code of Connecticut in 1650? Are not church- building, and church-going, and revivalism, ay, and Mormon- ism, rife among that very at rat ihe ‘st court from whose dread decrees there is no present appeal, to whom free discussion and facts have been presented to the extent they can be by present methods ? The popular free-discussion of affairs of the last degree of aipaGeon:- religions and state affairs- —except during. the crisis period of revolution, only renders that worst of * despotisms, anarchy, chronic: it seats in the social organism, that political gangrene—demagogism—which has always hitherto, sooner or later, required the cauterization of military despotism (a remedy all but as bad as the disease), in order to get rid of—in order to save even civilization. De: ‘spotism is the most inveter- ate of all the diseases of the social ongenism which ignorance has inflicted ; nay, it isa complication of allits diseases. What, my fellow-tnen, would any of you faces of iG physician who should consult with an individua .l organism with a view to taking that organism’s opinion as to what course he (the physician) ha ‘a best pursue in order to cure him (the organism) of scrofula,. complicated with every other bodily disease to which flesh is heir? Would not the patient, if he had one spark of common sense left, order such a doctor out of doors? with “Sar. [ex pected aid from your science and your healing art, and did not employ you to mock and insult me in my wretc hedne 88.” Would anyone who possessed a spark of re¢ ason, even, ventureCONCLUDING APPLICATION. 107 at sea in a vessel, with respect to the management of which, the v rote of all who Lepeened to go on board. was going to be taken? And do the managers of. the ship of state require less preparation than do common sailors? Do they not require so much more useful knowledge than they have ever been qualified with, that they have always wrecked or capsized the ship of state, except where it is only a question of time when they will do so? Evidently, church and state management require art and skill infinite ly superior to what ‘ ‘supernaturalism ” and its legitimate child, monarchism, or its basta ard issue, caucus-and- ballot- boxism, are capable of. From the dissecting room: the chemical laboratory; the astronomical observat ory ; ; physicians’ and physiologists’ ic in fine from all the schools of science and art, should human law be declared, inst a of being “ en- acted” in legislativ e halls, by those who, in every respect besides political trickery, fraud, and “smartness,” are perfect ignor- amuses Nature throughout, must be so modified (not chan ged); s S liberated from the thraldom of antagonism or counteraction; in short, so improved by art, that the conditions which now neces- sitate despotism and evil will be superseded by those which will make ae and all that i is desirable, as spontaneous as is the order of the spheres. Man ced aval y desires to be good. There is not, never was, and never can be, a sane human being who would not like to have things so arranged, that every human desire cculd be fully grat ed, instead of, as now, almost wholly denied gratification ; man’s ‘‘ holy” or “heavenly ” desires,—the very quintessence of sensualness, are a constant, and will be an everlasting testi- mony to the truth of this. Priestcraft cannot be put down till man obtains his “ being’s end and aim,” or is satisfied that it is attainable, in this ma- terial, this perceptible, this sense-world. To desire must be to possess, with the exception (if it can be called an exception) of the intervention of just exertion enough to give to possession its dwe value. Mankind will, with few exceptions, scorn reason, so long as it arrays itself against hwman instinct ; against what man feels to be true. And until science and art give man (or assures him that they can give him) the perfect and sufficiently lasting happiness which he instinctively knows that the power which created him owes him and stands pledged to give him or turn out to be an almighty failure, he will pursue that happi- ; > . | > i 4 ” : 4 « “ 7 ert TT ue teeter Le ko eas el lich a108 CONCLUDING APPLICATION. ness even beyond the grave; with priestcraft for his guide, of course. Can nature or all existence, fail ? and allow the drafts which, on the indisputable testimony of the human passion, she has authorized her highest beings to draw on her, to be protested ? Surely, ‘“ supernaturalism ” itseif is less absurd than. this. Friends of human rights! Believers in progress! Is anything more certain, than that combined science and its corresponding art, or full and complete development, must prove adequate to all for which “ miracle” can be intelligibly invoked ? lgnorance with respect to this, then; ignorance of how to develop nature’s resources, and modify and harmoniously com- bine her powers, so as to liberate her tendency to perfection from all obstructions—so as that her means will be correspon- dent to her ends,—constitutes the tyrant in search of whom we started. There he stands! But he is not invulnerable, nor is his fearfully, ay, all but ‘“supernaturally ” strong fortress im- pregnable. Let us “up and at him,” then as determinedly as our sires of glorious memory charged his minions at Bunker Mill. Parleying, as we have learned by long, sad experience, is sheer nonsense; quarter being out of the question. This arch enemy of mankind must be annihilated before liberty can be an actuality. And the religious faith of the human race must be transferred from the mysterious and impossible, and from their correlates, the subjective and speculative, to the intelli- gible and practical. And these must be shown capable of ful- filling man’s highest aspirations, before he can truly understand the mission, and fully appreciate the worth of THomas Pang. I trust I have shown that, to conquer the tyrant which ignorance of how to be free constitutes, was the common aim, and the real, however glimmeringly perceived object, of the exertions of Rosseau, Paine, Comte, and all the other author heroes and heroines, who have ever written. In conclusion allow me to propose a crisis-question for the practical consulta- évon upon, of my friends, whose religion (if | may be allowed to accuse them of having any) reason and free discussion compose. How can man be extricated from having to grovel round and round and round in the hopeless orbit which has mystery for its centre, monarchy for his aphelion, demagogism for itsperi- helion, and unvarnished wretchedness or gilded misery for its whole course, except by scientifically, artistically, and unitedly creating the requisite conditions for Actual Liberty ? Seka eee A rt ar)CONCLUDING APPLICATION. 109 All have their hobby. Mine, it will be pretty clearly per- ceived is,—that nature, through development, will prove all- sufficient. Come, all ye who delight in the amble of that well-tried hack, —popular religious, political, and sociological discussion, and who do not not like the complexion of present religious, politi- cal, and social institutions, and who are not enamoured of the millennium which I have shown would constitute their ultima- tum :—If you object to Art-Liderty, please to let the world know definitely, what you do propose.APPENDIX, | As one of the most heroic acts of Thomas Pain’s life, and one which also showed the profoundness of his political wisdom, was his speech in opposition to the execution of Louis XVI. J wish to draw particular attention to it; and therefore give ita place in an Appendix; for I have observed that even the most cursory readers generally look at the end of a work. This speech, Mr. Paine well understood, would expose him to the fiercest wrath of the Jacobins, who, sustained by the trium- phant rabble, had resolved, in the king’s case, to dispense with even the forms of “justice,” to the extent of setting aside the rule which required the sanction of a two-thirds majority for the infliction of the death penalty. “We vote,” protested Lanjuinais, when the balloting was ordered to commence, “under the daggers and the cannon of the factions.” In order to more fully understand in what fearful peril Mr. Paine voluntarily placed himself by delivering this speech, it will be necessary to know that “the factions” to which deputy Lanjuinais referred, were composed of the cruel monsters (and their abettors) who, a short time before. had “labored,” as their horrible, but “ disinterested ” leader, Maillard, termed it. during thirty-six hours, at massacreing the unarmed prisoners, who had been committed on mere suspicion of not being friendly to. the powers that then held sway ; and for which. “labor,” its zealous and industrious performers, all covered with blood and brains, demanded instant payment or the committee of the municipality, threatening them with instant death if they did not comply. “Do you think I have earned only twenty-four francs ?” said one of these principled assassins, brandishing a massive weapon “‘why, I nave slain forty with my own hands.”APPENDIX. Lh SPEECH OF THOMAS PAINE, AS DEPUTY IN THE NATIONAL CONVENTION OF FRANCE, IN OPPOSITION TO THE EXECUTION OF THE KING. CivIzEN PRESIDENT: My hatred and abhorrence of absolute monarchy are suftici- ently known; they originated in principles of reason and conviction, nor, e2 Cu ULiLCLlL ULLOST © J = A GQ ana asvyium Pope eames oe nT: "MW hapa hornatiow fas. ; L- : or Louis Uapet. inere, hereafter, far rez the mis- noved from erles and crimes of the constant 4 2G aspect Of public 3 O t ce ~~ ue system ofr covernment a Veea ded Bete et aes 15 . > r - | \ consists in fair, eo 2 representation. In relat- ine this circumstan ng this proposition, I con- ° 4 IA ? ‘ : os sider myself as a citizen of both countries. Tea fee PSE eee Es ~£ «ae “ was eae 7 i Submit 1t as a citizen of America who feels the debt of Feces ed ey #19 fe eee PN to apo att r pies gratitude which he owes to every Frenchman. I submit it: also 5 é Ud a 9c 9 Ma who eannnat taragpat +] ees : 1 as &2 Man W No cannot TO] SECU LAAT K LLLOS are SU DITé ct to numMan ‘ © a t Sveti TN ce eae Oe ee: a ete da “i ais £ | 7 Trauties. 1 support my proposition as a citizen of the French republic, because it appears to me the best the most politic 4 A. — | md } —s measure that can be adopted Re as tie ‘ in public its Getende ee 4A8 far aS My exper lence in ie lie life extendas Have ever observed that the great macs of the people are invariab ly just, LY sa is , . ~ . . both in their intentions and in their objects; but the true method ofa Ber oes that effect, does not always show itself in the first instance. For e: xample, the English nation has oroaned under the despotism of ite . Stuarts. Hence Charles the Ist lost Mis life wat Charles fae ge ; . his life; yet Charles the Id was restored to all the full pleni- tude of power which his father had lost. F orty years had not expired when the same family strove to re- esta blish +] their ancient oppression; so the on then banished from its territories the z - rry ve — a (MAS ce ge! 5 ~ . : whole race. The reme dy was effectual: the Stuart family sunk bevacouml 5 ar bedsAPPENDIX, food poond O into obseuri ity, confounded itself with the multitude, and is at eth extine t, The Fy rench an has carried her mea, sures of mont Pa c ea, yth ive rn 7a wt a ny ’ nent to a gre riength. France is not satisfie d with 2 sINg the guilt of ae Aiohagck. she has penetrated into the ices and frors OF the monarchy. She hag shown them ar as day- 4 a 7 . whoever he ' a abe meg Cae al , aq th mutual loss, and it is our duty, as legis slat ors, : as a Vv not to spill a drop of blood when our purpose may be effec suattle WIt YUU < i i 1 Fr ES i ses ie : ‘ ak Sa e 7 cccomplished without it. It has been aiready proposed to , 7 7 1 one a : py °; o, : L] 2 . ae ese ie Mn whe punishment or death lt 18 W1th innnite Savls- ction that I recollect the |] na excellent oration pro- d by Robespierre on that snhi ct in the constituent ounced by DvODESPI1el} LG. O11 Ghai 4 MMICCU Ith tNE Constituent cm ee @ must Ghd ite sdence bogie Gee ee LSSEMDLY. his Cause Must HnNG 1ts advoca €S In ev ery corner Pause, reader, and weep over lindness of those reformers who : e 7 , eR a bi T 7 3 ey fT lepend on principle and good wntention. Robes splerre preac hed (on, the ‘“*foolishness of [popular] ronan ” where social science is in qu ion) .gainst the death-penalty! And there can be no reasonable doubt but that he was, in principle, Opp sed to Lbs : ou Viarat once confidently exclaimed, in reference to his know? n Incorrupt- ness :—‘‘ A patriot so pure as myself, might communicate with the Yevilc? The appropriateness of his association of personages and attributes, he prova- bly did not suspect. ce, oh when, will principle and moralism, and that main supporter of ““ vice,’ “virtue,” give place a practical goodness ? “Fly swifter round ye wheels of time, Ar A bring the welcome day.” eee eS ere 4 ~ Sidtaserrecs?« * J r * e * « . . * Mn ° mops te daeses aAPY ENDIX ¥ were ne 1 mene ghar 1t Bad ¢ ar Oo Tt Vv t ol il Aa find 7 oo lans love ers of humanity exist, and ssembly. n 9 aCe; and wnured it to the s rng unary arts and a Fpunishment ; oe at V8 exactly the same punishment oe has so long shocked the sight and tora se the patvence-of the-people which now in - eur turn they practise in revenge on their oppressors. But it becomes us to be strictly on our guard against the abomination and perversity of such examples. As France has been the first of European nations to amend her government, let her also be the first to abolish the pu nishment of death, and to find out a milder and more effectual substitute. In the particular case now under eeden ation, I submit the following propositions,—Ist. That the national convention shall poneun o the sentence of banishment on Louis and his family : 2nd. That Louis Capet s shall be detained in prison till the end of the war, and then the sentence of banishment to be executed THE END.4 eter Crile t Pre ey a * es * is t Ps bd as “ = ay AGE OF REASON. Truett a Ba 7 +gerege tatens+ cwheeee PhS ST)bo et PP Am IDS ty AS ») sugres? ¢> 7,8 morc Wt SEDO TEriet rere cy Pere te. eee “ ’ ‘ a * PS a 7 SS ete t eee oSG ey is ets aTHE AGE OF REASOM PART FIRST. It has been my intention, for several years past, to pub- lish my thoughts upon religion; I am well aware of the diffi- culties that attend the subject, and from that consideration, had reserved it to a more advanced period of life. I in- tended it to be the last offering I should make to my fellow- citizens of all nations, and that at a time when the purity of the motive that induced me to it, could not admit of a ques- tion, even by those who might disapprove the work. The circumstance that has now taken place in France of the total abolition of the whole national order of priest- hood, and of every thing appertaining to compulsive systems of religion, and compulsive articles of faith, has not only precipitated my intention, but rendered a work of this kind exceedingly necessary, lest, in the general wreck of super- stition, of false systems of government, and false theology, we lose sight of morality, of humanity, and of the theology that is true. As several of my colleagues, and others of my fellow- citizens of France, have given me the example of making their voluntary and individual profession of faith, I also will make mine; and | do this with all that sincerity and frank- ness with which the mind of man communicates with itself. I believe in one God, and no more; and I hope for happi- ness beyond this life. I believe in the equality of man; and I believe that re- ligious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow creatures happy.) But, lest it should be supposed that I believe many other things in addition to these, I shall, in the progress of thisWhen a1 return Bie by Peetendit ize power I do noL Jie 2 eA mear ~O THE AGE OF REASON. | PART I. _the things I do not believe, and my reasons oS , “ believe in the creed professed by the Jewish 1a pm et urch, n ) to terrify and enslave mankind, and monop- jure, unmixed, and unadulterated belief o .é 2) O ~— =) —— PM —_ > Kv Q. AS a9 Beas hg E Pe Ty my, od —_ hy ‘oman church, by the Greek church, by the by the Protestant church, nor by any church LT My own mind is my own church. nstitutions of churches, whether Jewish, kish, appear to me no other than human i - us declaration to condemn the same right to 7 Pa Ps ‘qQrriry tr - hhh 1c necessary to "he nNappiness of cy i A Creek ; Lae althful to himself. Infidelity © » . 7 + . © . v rin Ai - . +t Ann a or in disvelievinge: 1t consists a s sk 12 : 1@ Goes not pelleve. at a e + YT cy’ ) YY f Ino na DroaucGe o I SO ar ecornriit A Y } tT) system of government should be changed, could not be brought fairly and openly ‘be- } " a 7 “ i A i d be done, a rev- } eee ia es oo me a ‘ system Or réilgion would follow. Human in- Y > act. re : To ] J = 4 aa. = , priest crailt, would be detected; and man would c A A VV 1as established itself rom God, communi-PART I. | THE AGE OF REASON. 7 cated to certain individuals. The Jews have their Moses; 41+ cy rrcty< - ee EN - G } : oo Se their Jesus Christ, their a postles and saints; : ee and the Turks their Mahomet, as if the wz ay to God was not open to every man alike. ae fein se Hach of those churches show certain books, wl call revelation, or the word of God. hee sn they TL a eee > +] : lhe Jews say, that their word of God was given by God to Moses, face to face; the Christians say, that their word of God came by divine in- spiration; and the Turks say, tha ‘of Gi Koran) was brought by an angel I those ch lI »] Cs accuse . ot! { r Own part, | disbelieve them all | As it is necessary to affix rieht ideas to words, I will. before I proceed further into the subject, offer some other observations on the word revelation. Revelation when applied tO religion, mic€ans some thing communicated 17727762 7 . ais, oa : ete 4 pT a ae re 4 No man will deny or dispute the power of the A + a a bee eet re a ie | 1 tO Make such a communication, if he pleases Dut ad = 1 1 7 +4 Y ( 4 > i> 4 ting’, for Lhe LUKE OT a Ci Coat SometnAain i 1TreveaieG 1 1 2 to a certain person, and not revealed toa ( lt 18 el ca oie , hat era et TAT] 1 ee 1 : revelation to tnat person only. VV nen he te It tO &@ S@G- } : ° 1 > ? Ne rol > { aA ee Th} { 9 thirn te ‘ »4 Ann 1 ond perso a seC bid OQ a LOnIra, A Ci tL tO a O i nN. Ane sO oe ’ Pe, } on, lt ceases To ) Tre latlo ) i ) Dé SONS. if 18 i revelation Eo El airst perso! niv.. 2 | NeEearsay to every 1 > 1 t < , t r +h uy no £ other, anda, consequentiy, tney are n Oliged tO Delleve It. - y a poe “ ~ [t is a contra 1 In terms d is, to call anything a revelation + ; nes to us 2it » mn ither verhally VEiation L is a 5 1a-na ant ner: VervoaiLpv Vv . j J L, ee or In WI Ino meveiatlion | ecesSarliy 1 ited to tne urst comm n} ily an account of some- thine ae i h that person says was a revelation made to him; aha though he may find himself obliged to believe it, it can- not be incumbent on me to believe it in the same manner; for it was not a revelation made to me, and I have only his word for 1 at it was made to him. When Moses told the children of Israel that he received the two tables of the commandments from the hands of God, they were not obliged to believe him, because they had no other ainoer for it ahd his telling them so; and I have no gener authority for it than some histor ‘ian telling meso. The t | evidence of divinity with ‘Roma? they contain some good moral precepts such as any com nandments carry no Interna SEHSRSNSORSARED RR SO Gedly ts eed ae LiL -* rt bees errr Sc P Lice ses) re he ree PbS Te oe ta a Teoh. tt! -T)8 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART 1. man qualified to be a law-giver, or a legislator, could pro- duce himself, without having recourse to supernatural inter- vention.* When I am told that the Koran was written in Heaven, and brought to Mahomet by an angel, the account comes too near the same kind of hearsay evidence and second-hand authority as the former. I did not see the angel myself, and, therefore, I have a right not to believe it. When, also, I am told that a woman called the Virgin Mary, said, or gave out, that she was with child without any co- habitation with a man, and that her betrothed husband, Joseph, said that an angel told him so, I have a right to be- lieve them or not; such a circumstance required a much Stronger evidence than their bare word for it; but we have not even this—for neither Joseph nor Mary wrote any such matter themselves ; it is only reported by others that they said so—it is hearsay upon hearsay, and I do not choose to rest my belief upon such evidence. It is, however, not difficult to account for the credit that was given to the story of Jesus Christ being the Son of God. He was born when the heathen mythology had still some fashion and repute in the world, and that mythology had pre- pared the people for the belief of such a story. Almost all the extraordinary men that lived under the heathen mythol- ogy were reputed to be the sons of some of their gods. It was not a new thing, at that time, to believe a man to have been celestially begotten; the intercourse of gods with women was then a matter of familiar opinion. Their Jupi- ter, according to their accounts, had cohabited with hun- dreds ; the story, therefore, had nothing in it either new, won- derful or obscene ; it was :conformable to the opinions that then prevailed among the people called Gentiles, or Mythol- ogists, and it was those people only that believed it. The Jews, who had kept strictly to the belief of one God, and no more, and who had always rejected the heathen mythology, never credited the story. It is curious to observe how the theory of what is called the Christian Church, sprung out of the tail of heathen my- thology. A direct incorporation took place in the first in- stance, by making the reputed founder to be celestially be- *It is, however, necessary to except the declaration which says that God visits the sins of the fathers upon the children ; it is contrary to every principle of moral justice.PART I. | THE AGE OF REASON. 9 ae 7 ares pres . gotten. The trinity of gods that then followed was no other aOR laa than a reduction of the former plurality, which was about twenty or thirty thousand; the statue of Mary succeeded the statue of Diana of Ephesus ; the deification of heroes } the one as the pantheon had been with the other; and Rome was the place of both. The Christian theory is little else than the idolatry of the ancient Mythologists, accommo- dated to the purposes of power and revenue; and it yet re- mains to reason and philosophy to abolish the amphibious fraud. Nothing that is here said can apply, even with the most distant disrespect, to the real character of Jesus Christ. He was a virtuous and an amiable man. The morality that he preached and practiced was of the most benevolent kind; and though similar systems of morality had been preached by Confucius, and by some of the Greek philosophers, many years before; by the Quakers since; and by many good men in all ages, it has not been exceeded by any. Jesus Christ wrote no account of himself, of his birth, parentage, or anything else; not a line of what is called the New Testament is of his own writing. The history of him is altogether the work of other people; and as to the account given of his resurrection and ascension, it was the necessary counterpart to the story of his birth. His historians, having brought him into the world in a supernatural manner, were obliged to take him out again in the same manner, or the first part of the story must have fallen. to the ground. The wretched contrivance with which this latter part is told, exceeds everything that went before it. The first part, that of the miraculous conception, was not a thing that admitted of publicity; and therefore the tellers of this part of the story had this advantage, that though they might not be credited, they could not be detected. They could not be expected to prove it, because it was not one of those things that admitted of proof, and it was impossible that the person of whom it was told could prove it himself. But the resurrection of a dead person from the grave, and his ascension through the air, is a thing very different as to the evidence it admits of, to the invisible conception of a change into the canonization of saints; the Mythologists had gods for everything; the Christian Mythologists had saints for everything ; the church became as crowded with 1 dalled tet el Be hee | *e+hbis s ; ss co a ? A be} a LIL eet Pee ees Pee ae tt oesPies ere} c eet gt ee eae op 10 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART 1. child in the womb. The resurrection and ascension, suppos- ing them to have taken place, admitted of public and ocular demonstration, like that of the ascension of a balloon, or the sun at noon day, to all Jerusalem at least. A thing which everybody is required to believe, requires that the proof and evidence of it should be e equal to all, and universal; and as the public visibility of this last re lated act, was the only evidence that could give sanction to a former part, the whole of it falls to the ground, | because that evidence never was given. Instead of this, a small eit of persons, not more than ei ight or nine, are introduced as proxies for the whole world, tosay they saw it, and all the rest of the world are called upon to ‘believe it. But it appears that Thomas did not believe the resurrection; and, as they say, would not be heve without having ocular and manual demonstration ae self. So neither will f,and the reason is equally as good for me, a id for every other person, as for Thomas. It is in vain to attempt to palliate or disguise this ma ha y = < The story, so far as relates to the supernatural part, has every mark of fraud and imposition stamped upon the face of it. Who were the authors of it is as impossible for us now to know, as it is for us to be assured, that the books in which the account is we a a were written by the persons a 10se names Spe year; the best surviving evidence we now have res pecting this affair is the Jews. The y are regular ly desce ided from nthe people who lived in the time this resur- rection and ascension is said to have happened, and they Say, it is not true. It has long appeare xd to mea Strange 1n- consistency to cite the Jews as a proof of the truth of the story. It is just the same as if a man were to say, I will prove the truth of what I have told you by producing the people who say it is false. That such a person as Jesus Christ existed, and that he was crucified, which was the mode of execution at that day, are historical re eeons strictly within the limits of proba- bility. He preached most excellent morality, and the equality of man; but he preached also against the corruptions and avarice of the Toker priests, and this brough it ee him the hatred and vengeance of phe whole order of priesthood. The accusation which those priests brought against him was that of sedition and conspiracy against the Roman rovern- ment, to which the Jews were then subject and tributary;PART 1. ] THE, AGE OF REASON. Tt an 5) . at and itis not improba ble that the ane} covernment might } a ‘ <5 c have some secret ap} rehe nsions Or 1e effec ES of his doe trine as well as the Jewish ate* ‘Nathan sa: 1. Wee ae : 2 a Ie Jev ish } ess natch is it nee that vg eSus rist nad in contemnilation the daliwar + Jes AN Warist Nad LT contemplation toe deliv Cry of the J J Owl sh ation? “\mM +4 EN re Aer me Ln S nation trom the bondage of the Romans. Between the two 2 9 relormer and revolutionist lost his an thar RASA T ory YOM ~ ~ . ee awa Nile ca anon Case 1 am 2oln to mentic Bis that toe Christian J “he ancl nt . C\5 ihe ancient | iat the race of Giants made war again hat one of the ew a hundred rocks : one throw; that Jupiter defeated him with thunder, and confined him afterwards 7 » “7 ; 4° under Mount Etna, and that every time the Giant turns him- nere casy to see that the circumstance of the mount- 77 hat ° } ‘ Tat ay the id f +] ain, that Of 1ts belng a volcano, suggested the idea of the fable; and that the fable is made to fit and wind ltseli up sue ds v AY la pit. it, is dea of the Se ee a em aire! wards, Not v here easy to see that the first fa “hg ] : sec ond; tor I : many hunad Thus f ristian Mythologists differ very little from each other. But the latter have contrived to carry the matter much further. They have contrived to connect the fabulous part of the story of Jesus Christ with ee > 7.3 aaatote eps f + Ry’ mage Qy q 1? yr 2 ra the fable originating from Mount Etna; and, in order to make all the parts OL the stor y tle togetne! tne have taken to their aid the tradi tions of the Je ws; ior the Unbristian PO thology is made up partly from the ancient mythology, and Ov ~ partly ‘from the Jewish traditions. The Christian Mythologists after having confined Satan in a pit, were obliged to let him out again to Deine on the sequel of the fable. Heisthen introduc xed into the Ga a Ae of Eden in the shape of a snake ora se rpent, aa in that Tee EE cr eee’ ¢ dete ee eee ere oF | 5 * ¢ % * BI A Be 4 me ce LIL .* , dere er e sSESEvira te . +5oeyeat Dread 12 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. ¥ * eye pe Bhs 7 ee = . shape he enters into familiar conversation with Eve, who is ; » hear a snake talk; and the issue of this ¢ no way surprised tc tete-a-tete is, that he persuades her to eat an apple, and the eating of that apple damns all mankind. : After giving Satan this triumph over the whole creation, one would have supposed that the church Myt hologists would have been kind enough to send him back to the pit; or, if they had not done'this, that they woul have put a mountain upon him, (for they say that their faith can pve a mount- ain,) or have put him wnder a mountain, as the former Mythol- : . - y v Oa ogists had done, to prevent his getting again among the women and doing more mischief. but instead of this, they leave him at large, without even obliging him to give his ] , ay parole the secret of which is, that they could not do with- out him ; and after being at the trouble of making him, they bribed him to stay. They promised him atu the Jews, aun the Turks by anticipation, nine-tenths of the world besides, and Mahomet into the bargain. After this, who can doubt the bountifulness of the Christian mythology ? Having thus made an insurrection and a battle in Heaven, in which none of the combatants could be either killed or wounded—put Satan into the pit—let him out again—giving him a triumph over the whole creation— damned all mankind by the eating of an apple, these Chris- tian Mythologists bring the two ends of their fable together. They represent this virtuous and amiable man, Jesus Christ, to be at once both God and Man, and also the Son of God, celestially begotton, on purpose to be sacrificed, because they say that Hve in her longing had eaten an apple. Putting aside everything that might excite laughter by its absurdity, or detestation by its profaneness, and confining ourselves merely to an examination of the parts, it is impos- sible to conceive a story more derogatory to the Almighty, more inconsistent with his wisdom, more contradictory to his power, than this story is. In order to make for it a foundation to rise upon, the in- ventors were under the necessity of giving to the being, whom they call Satan, a power equally as great, if not greater than they attribute to the Almighty. They have not only given him the power of liberating himself from the pit, after what they call his fall, but they have made that power increase afterwards to infinity. Before this fall theyPART 1.] THE AGE OF REASON, 1 represent him only as an angel of limited existence. as they represent the rest. After his fall, he } : 1 ecomes, by their ac- count, omn ' . ere, and at the same time. He occupies the whole immen sity of space. a WS tt present. He exists everywl Not content with this deification of "Satan, oe represent him as defeatin g, by stratagem, in t the shape of an animal of the creation, all the power and wisdom of eas A ee ty: They represent him as having compelled the Almi direct eee either of surrendering the whole of the crea- tion to the government and soy ereignty of this Satan, or of capiti ulating tor 1ts redemption by cor ning down ge earth and exhibiting himse sf upon a cross in the shape of a man hie Had the inventors of this story told it the bonita Wwiy, that is, had they represented the Almighty as compelling } 3 7 > e ‘ j oS Satan to exhibit himself on a cross, in th am mit Se shape of a snake, as a punishment for his new os the story would have been less absurd—less contradictory. But. instead of this, they make the transgressor triu: imp yh, and the Almighty T hat many good men have believed this strange fable, na lived very cood lives under that belief (for cr edulity is not : crime) is what I have no doubt of. In the first place, they were educated to believe it, and they would have believed Seehliivie else in the same manner. There are also many who have been so enthusiastica ully enraptured by what they conceived to be the infinite love of God to man, in maki Ing @ sacrifice of himself, that the vehemence of the idea has oF bidden and deterred them from examin ing into the absurdity and profaneness of the story. The more unnatural any Sale is, the more is it cz apable of becoming the object of diminl admiration. But if objects for gratitude and admiration are our desire, do they not present themselves every hour to our eyes? Do we not see a fair creation preps red to receive us the instant we are born—a world furnished to our hands, that cost us nothing? Is it we that ieee up the sun, that pour down the rain, and fill the earth with abundanee? Whether we sleep or wake, the vast machinery of the universe still goes on. Are these things, and the blessings they indicate in future, nothing to us? Can our gross feelings be excited by no other subjects than tragedy and suicide? Oris the gloomy ride of man become so intolerable, that nothing can flatter It but a sacrifice of the Creator? SEASTERSA PARA Qe ee? * A 1] ° & * bs A “ ro) 4 oY Lita Cy ei eek edhe sSevisvit ae oh)14 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART 1. I know that this bold investigation will alarm many, but it would be paying too great a compliment to their credulity to forbear it on that aceon the times and the subject demand it to be done. The suspicion that the theory of what is called the Christian church is fabulous, is becoming very extensive in all countries; and it will be a consolation to men staggering under that suspicion, and doubting what to believe and what to disbelieve, to see the subject freely investigated. I therefore pass on to an examination of the books allel the Old a nd New Testament. These books, beginning with Genesis and ending with Revelation (which, by the bye, is a book of riddles that requires a revelation to explain it), are, we are told, the word of God. It is, therefore, proper for us to know who told us so, that we may pet what credit to give to the report. The answer to this qeestion is, that nobody can tell, except that we tell one another so. The case historically appears to be as follows: When the church Mythologists established their system, they collected all the writings they could find, and managed them as they pleased. It is a matter altogether of uncer- tainty to us whether such of the writings as now appear under the name of the Old and New Testament, are in the same state in which those collectors say they found them, or whether they added, altered, abridged, or dressed them up. Be this as it may, they decided by vote which of the books out of the collection they had made, should be the worp oF 30D, and which should: not. They rejected several; they voted others to be doubtful, such as the books nakon the Apocrypha; and those books which had a majority of votes, were voted to be the word of God. Had they voted other- wise, all the people, since calling themselves Christians, had believed otherwise—for the belief of the one comes from the vote of the other. Who the people were that did all this, we know nothing of, they called themselves by the general name of — Church: and this is all we know of the mation: As we have no ee external evidence or authority for believing a 1ese books to be the word of God, than what I have mentioned, which is no evidence or authority at all, I come, in the next place, to examine the internal evidence contained in the books themselves. In the former part of this Essay, I have th tl spoken of revela-PART 1.} THE AGE OF REASON, 15 tion.—] now proceed further with that su ibject, for the pur- pose of applying it to the books in question. elevation is a communication of somethiy ng, which the person, to whom that thing ls revealed Hor if I have done a thing, or seen it done, it needs no revelation to tell me I have done it, or 1, did not ciioee bef lore, seen it, nor to enable me to tel it, or to write it. evelation, there fore, cannot be applied to anything done upon earth, of which man is him: self the actor or the witne SS} 1d consequently all the historical and Ween part of ihe . | Zt e =i. Bat “ ES eS 4 2 > . 1 sible, which is almost the whole of it, 18 not within the . ea therefore QI x KB iD meaning and compass of the word revelation is not the word of God. When Samson ran off with he gate-posts of Gaza, if he ever did so, (and whether he did or not is nothing to us) or >} . } gS wicttand: Kite Prellck ] a re ] when he visited his Delilah, or e: ught his foxes, or did a ny ¢+ thing else, what has revelation to do with these things? If - ae . + L 3 ea fs a } they were facts, he could tel] them umself; or his secretary, if he kept one, could write them, if they were mr elther telling or writing; and if they were fictions revelation could not make them true ; and whether true or not, we are sate the better nor the wiser oh ay een them. When we con- template the immensity of that Being, who directs and 2 OV- erns the inc he -nsible WHOLE, of which the u most ken it to feel os at calling such paltry stories the word of God. As to the account of the Chenieee with which the book of Genesis pes, it has all the a 7 human sight can discover bat. a part, we oug! pearance of being a tradi- tion which the Israelites had am: ng them before they came into Kiry ypt; and after their departure from that country, they put it at the head of their history, without te ling (as it is most prob: able) that they did not know how they came by it. The manner in which the account opens, shows it to be traditionary. It begins abruptly: it is nobody that spe aks ; tis nobody that hears ; it is addressed to nobody it. nas aeither first, second, or third person ; It has every criterion of being a tradition; it hasno voucher. Moses does not take it upon himself by introducing it with the formality that he uses on other occasions, such as that of saying, The Lord epake Unto Moses, saying. Why it has been called the Mosaic account of the Crea- tion, I am at a loss to conceive. Moses, I believe, was too hel deel bee ot LE At oe 5 ? 4, = ee ‘ BI al = cad ‘ ad ‘ a . : . = . ° “= Ad ¥* , - Ad # a a Cy = rt ae pee ineD hs EEEsood a judge of such subjects to put his name to that ac- oui t. He had been educated among the Koyptians, who were a people as well skilled in science, astronomy, as any people i $ opsery e of thei Ir day es, in not ai ative evidence that he ase 1s, that every nat i-makers, and the Israelites f world-making as any Israelite, he might not lhe account, however can be said of man the obscene stories, the voluptuous cruel and tortuous executions, the unre- with woh more than half the Bible is 5 All ae it would be more consis ent that we called it the word of a demon than the word a God... Itis@ history of wickedness, that } : rrupt and brutalize man- kind ; and, for my own part, I sincerely detest it, as I detest every a es ao 18 cruel \ a few phrases e xcepted, nee or our contempt, 7 guty ; rank than many other compositions on similar subjects, ag well before that time as since. The Proverbs which are said to be Solomon’s, though most oe. a collection (because they discover a knowledge of life, which his situation exc] luded him from knov wing) are an instructive table of ethics. They inferior in keenness to the p b S rd 1 not more wise and eco- nomica! : can Franklin. A Ths en [ LTS of the Bible. generally kr nown OY the name ‘oe the Soon are the works of the Jewish poets and itinerant preachers, who mixed poetry, anecdote, and devotion together—and those works still retain the a ir and aty| le of poetry, though In transiation.® *As there are many readers who do not ree th it be in rhyme, it is for their Poetry consists principally j information t} in two thing & lat aa 8—imagery and composition. of the Bible. In the and the Book of Job ind &@ great deal of ele- ed ot the power and stand on no ae ted & com Qi position is poet ry, aniesa this note, The com-PART I.] THE AGE OK REASON. 1 a] There is ot, throu; n ole book called the Bible any word that deseri ls €S tO US wha & poet, nor any wort 1a ’ wha Vea ea j NNVaAtr<, - y . that describe 28 what we call poet y. The case is, that the word prophet, to which latter Imes have affixed a new 1 tha ie ie , . ya 1 : idea, ics the Bible ao lor poet, and the word prophes ying meant the art of making poetry. It also meant the art of playing poetry to a tune upon i x i eo . A hy 10 ead of prophesying with pipes, tabrets, and horns— of prophesying with harps, with psalteries, with cymbals, and with every other instrument of music then in fashion. W ere we now to speak of prophesying with a fiddle, or with a pipe and tabor, the expression would have no meaning, or would appear ridiculous and to some peopl contemptuous, because we have changed the meaning of the word ies 4 gro | q 7 May . 1 yve are told of Saul being among the prophets, and also St ae j . le prophesied 5 but we are not told what the ey prophesied, rhat yyy hoeod Aone ae : 0) eee nor what he prophesied. The Case is, there Was nothing to proy poets, and Saul joined in the concert, and this was called prophesying. The account given of this affair in the book called Samuel, is, that Saul met a company of prophets; a whole company of them! con ung down wit th a psa ultery, a tabret, a pipe, and a harp, and that they prophesied, and that he prophesied with th cn But it appears afterwards, that Saul e Miu prophesied badly ; that is, performed his part badly : for i position of poetry differs from that of prose in the manner of mi: a long an short syllables together. Take a ee ig syllable out of a line of poetr y and put a short one in the room of it, o1 put a long yl able where a short one should be, and that line will lose its poetical harm ony. It will have an effect upon the line like that of misplacing a note in a song, The ee gery in these books, called the propane ate appertains altogether to poe- try. It is fictitious d often extravagant, and not admissible in any other kind of writing than poetry. To io bat these writings are coun sed in por tical numbers, I ttl take ten ind in the book, and make a line of thes ame number of sylla- ieroic picaniies) that shall rhyn 1e with the last word. It will then be seelt 1¢ composition of these books is poetical measure, The instance I shall e is from Isaiah :— produ Q a Dye heavens, and give éar O earth 7” +? 13 RE og 1 tan farth "T 1limegelf that calls attention forth. Another instance I shall quote is from the mournful) Jeremiah, to which I shail add two other lines, for the purpose of carrying out the figure, and showing the intention of the poet. sé 0, that mine head were waters and mine eves : Were fountains flowing like the liquid skies ; Then would I give the mighty flood release, And weep a deluge for the human race There eee! téivis APP ee eT erie rere > + - * ’ EA pI ie 4 wR iLata ttt sf - ot ease ae PRs epee eed ree egigee T¥Sey Weir ypaey 18 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART is said, that, an “evil spirit from God”* came upon Saul, | and he prophesied. poet | Now, were there no other passage in the book called the } nave lost the . Bible, than this, to demonstrate to us that we J 7 ‘ . vt. 4 Co wos W)\PYOY 2en7 aT | supst ite y - é , na TO} y) / : ( SLs itut xt original meaning of the word prophesy, and subs = Y 465 lana 4 1S alone we ? 1a ufficier 5 7 pyothe er meaning In Its Dlace, LOIS aiOne W ould DC S i ont ; : aa a 1 1 1 oo Te eas > : B| E> 10 } yoeaihic and Nolv the wor: POD /LeSy pn for it is impossib] e and ey! tne “word pro} Y, in \ , ] = Tig } Nant fae ls _f Ta ove t+ i+ | the place it is | and applied, if we give to it the | é : ars ; * rm} ‘ i | ' } y e : 4. A yy sense which 13 oave affixed tO; Th: ine manner 1p whicl 11t 1S here S ips t of all ous me aning, and } i ees TS: shat ny y¢ yt tee ba snows that aman might then bea net, or he might } } 7 { x 7 ac t r) 4 ~ > 7 } prophes 5 as ne may OW ve Ppoct Or mM i ail. ou rega rd to Ene! 10rality or immorality of his characte: he *Y , 2 e . | > | iY ,ilxyr «© TQyTY y cy} SeClANnra NrOMMISeiire ic VY OOTY leg word was oO! 19 iInaily a term Of science, pro USLY appiled F 1 - alae eee mo rACctrIA ? » : Saitek to SEES and to music, and not restricted to any subject might be exercised. : +t h 299A tha dL DeECauUuseE Loey L, 2 because sed the poem Or : } es aoe = ee Ire ee hame In celieoration Of an act alreac ly among the prophets, for he was a oh pernans ver Pe > : ‘eon FP ore I ery oi the Fsaims. but Abraham, Isaac € phets; it does not appear from ey gih, a Sa a ee eae rave, that they could either sing, play any accou nnts we music, or make poetry. y 1 Pd aay We are told of th They might as well tell 1 God ; for there cannot be decrees in prophesy ing consistently e greater and the Tesser prophets is of the ches er and the lesser g with its modern sense.—But there are degrees in poetry, and therefore the phrase is reconcila ible to the case. whe 2n we | 3 ery understand by it the greater and the lesser poets. 7 It is altogether unnece ssary, after this, to offer any observations upon what those. men, styled prophets, have written. The axe goes at once to the root, by showing that the original meaning of the word has been mistaken, and consequently all the inferences that have been drawn from those books, the devotional respect that has been paid to them, and the labored commentaries that have been written upon them, under that mistaken meaning, are not worth the | * As those men whocall themselves divines and comment: ut rs. are very fond of Pe one another, I leave them to contest the meaning of the first part of the Phrase, that of an evil spirit ef God. I keep to my text—keep to the meaning of the word prophesy.PART 1.] THE AGE OF REASON. 19 Bhicrsa Hime ashe ke Satna ah aes oi lis} puting g about. in many things, however, the writings : the Jewish poets deserve a better fate than that of bei bound up, as they are now, with the trash that nedonipaeiee them, under the abused name of the word of God ya 08 2 UL if we pern ut ourselves to conceive right ideas of things. we must neeecauhly afiix the idea ee ness, but of t litter impossibility aes by any means or accident Ww = 1 } ae . voul ld honor with tne name of the wora ano i) 1 } T . , . Me ¢ tin LL¥ p J LV€ Nangee tO Which the m PATI + . . " = YW Words 1a anhiant h ant of a Wn lane TI of W OI US » su ns Us the Want ( A ani UNLV Gr we al de A CUAL which renders translation necessa ‘y, the errors to which translations ara 909) 1 @ LH 4 Llt tha y > | t nate and 3 are agai Sus ject, tn N KES OF COopyists and printers, to- gether with tl ossib ful alteration, are of them Sseives eviaences that t > NUManN fk nueuace, whetner in speech “oe | Cc l ei ee Phe ] 1 or 1n prin ( not Db I { © Of the word of (roa. The word Ui rU \ Ls 5 i ‘ 2 ise, Pye EE l OE] roy > a wei gl j . _f 1 7 i7idi the OW Calle€a the Dibie, excel in DULITY OL laeas anG ) t : - ae 1] } | Wary T ¥ exp Cssion ail ne b. KS NOW extan 0 LC WOR. bk uld ie ai oi. f | hai | not. take 1 O! ny I li OL fTaltn, aS D Ines the we ord of Goal because the possibiuty would nevertheless exist of my being V u impose i upon. but when I see throughout the oreater part r | _y t . 7 ' es 4 ms oy i. - of this bo ok, scarcely anything put a history of the Orossest ‘ e c) uJ = 4: St vices, aaa a ction of the m tales, I ‘cannot hen ts my Cr name. ‘ Thus much for the Bible; I now go on to the book called the Vew Testament! that is, the new will, as if there could be two wills of the Creator. Had it been the o bject or the intention of Jesus Christ to establish a new religion, he would undoubtedly have written the system himself, va pr ocured tt to be written in his lifetime. But there is no publication extant authenticated with his name. All the bookscalled the New ‘Testament were written after his death. He was a Jew by birth and by profession; and he was the son of God in like manner that every other person is—for the Creator is the Father of All. The first four books, called Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, do not give a history of the life of Jesus Christ, but only detached anecdotes of him. It appears from these books gina r and contemptible ato : by calling it by his SPSTASAGRER ERR RSH E® : ms ’ 5 te & ‘ = rT a “ Pee rr gt de baste ese setedwse See ee aed | Pe20 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. that the whole time of his being a preacher was not more than eighteen months; and it was only during this short time that those men became acquainted with him. They make mention of him at the age of cles years, sitting, they say, among the Jewish oe asking and answering them ques- tion As this was several years before their acc juaintance wit hb ‘him | egan, it 1s ; most probable they had this anecdote from his pare1 ne From this time iY 1ere is nO account of him for about sixteen years. Where he lived, or h 10w he employed himself during this interval, is not known. Most probably he was working at his father’s trade, which was that : a& Car- penter. It does not appear that he hadany school education, and the probability is, that he could not write, for his parents were extremely poor, as appears from their not being » able to pay for a bed when he was born. It is somewhat curious that the thres > persons whose names are the most universally recorded, were of very obscure parentage. wen was a foundling; Jesus Christ was born in a stable; and Mahomet was a mule driver. The first and the last of these men were founders of different systems of religion; but Jesus Christ founded no new system. He called men to the > practice of moral virtues, and the belief of one God. The great trait in his character is phil anthropy. The manner in which he was apprehended, shows that he was not much known at that time: and it shows. also, that the meetings he then held with his followers were in secret; and that he had given over or suspended preaching publicly. oe could no oth 1erwise betray him than. by giving informa tion where he was and pol inting him out to the officers that went to arrest him; and the reason for empl oying and pa ving Judas to do this could arise only from the cause already mentioned, that of his not being much known, and living eoncealed. e — nae idea of his concealment. not only agrees very ul with his reputed diy rinity, but associates with it somethin g of pusil- lani ae and his beine ig betrayed, or in othe r words, his being apprel hended, on the information of one of his followers, shows that he did not intend to be ay pprehended, and conse- quently that he did not intend to be crucified. The Christian Mythologists tell us, that Christ died for the sins of the world, and that he c came on purpose to dte. 17 ? “pn ’ . . Would it not then, have been the same uf he had died ofPART I. | THE AGE OF REASON. 21 fever, or - the small pox, of old age, or of anything else? The decls ratory sentence which, they say, was passed upon Adam, in case he eat of the apple, was not, that thou shalt ete be crucified, but, thou shalt ey die—the sentence of death, and not the manner of ¢ dying. Crucifixion, there- Sexe. or any other particular manner of dying, made no part of the sentence that Adam was to suffer, and consequently, €ven upon their own tactics, it could make no part of the sentence that Christ was to suffer in the room of Adam: A fever would have done ag well as a cross, if there was any occasion for either. The sentence of death, which they tell us, was thus Asse a upon Adam, must either have meant dying natural lly, hat 3 is, ceasing to live, or have meant what those “My *tholo- cists call damn nation; and consequently, the act of dying on the part ¢ of Jesus Christ, must, , according to their “syst stem, apply as a prevention to one or other of these two things happening to Adam and to Us. That it does not prevent our dying 1 is evident, because we all die; and if their accounts of longevity be true, men die faster since the crucifixion than before and with respect to the second explanation, (inc luding with it the natural death of Jesus Christ as a substitute for the eternal death or damnation of all mankind,) it is impertinently representing the Creator as con ung off, or revoking the Ss sente nee, by a pun or a quibble upon the word death. ett manufacturer of quibbles, St. Paul, if he wrote ie babes that bear his name, has helped this quibble on by making another quibble upon the word Adam. He makes there to be two Adams; the one who sins in fact, and suffers by proxy; the other who sins by proxy, ane suffers in fact. A religion thus intez larded with quibble, subterfuge, and pun, has a tende ency to a its professors in the practice of these arts. They acquire the habit without being aware of the cause. If Jesus Christ was the heii which those Mythologists tell us he was, and that he came into this world to suffer, which is a aod they sometimes use instead of to die, the only real suffering he could have endured, i a have been to live. His existence here was a state of exilement. or transportation from Hea iven, and the way back to Lie is original country was to die.—In fine, everything in this strange system vy is the reverse of what it pretends to be. It is the reverse of eh RA Jo T t A Oo lle del tel Leh Et Tet f teh a ~ . Es * ‘ ~ Pi A | “ * + - a * I 5 . » 2 “* * a 4 +? 7 a - | - a ‘ i te te Steed * a*oe ering 99 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. ed truth, and I become so tired of examining into its inconsis- tencies and absurdities, that I hasten to the conclusion of it, in order to proceed to something better. How much, or what parts of the books called the New Te en were written by the persons whose names they bear, is what we can ae not hing of, neither are we certain . what lan guage they were origina Hy written. The matters I they now contain may be classed under two heads—anecdote ] eee lin were , | and epistolary Ccorresponaenc ~ v The four books already m«¢ Baa EROS * ark, Luke and John, are Moca: an acdot tal. They relat vents after they had taken plac e. They tell what J esus CG t did and said, and what others did and said to hin LS a “ several { i nstances they relate the same event dif tion 1S necessarily out of the question with respect to those books; not only because of the disagreement of the writers but because revelation cannot be applied to the relating of a ; ' ; a. facts by the person who saw them done, nor to the relating Te cr oe rea a An yee as ei eae ie . | recorain®’ oi any aiscourse or Conversation py those who g bea PA é 1] 4 a tee ‘3: ay heard it. Che box ok called the Acts of the Apostles (an anonymous work) belongs also to the anecdotal part. All the other parts of the New Testament, except the book of enigmas, called the Kevelations, are a collection of letters under the name of « epistles; and the forgery of letters has been. such common bility is at One thing, however, is much less equivocal, which is, that \ - 4 oe | cs as = =~ oye . 4 ‘ out of the matters contained in those books 2 practice in the world, that the proba- least equal, whether they are genuine or forged. ‘ together with the assistance of some old stories, the church has set up a System of reli vion very contr sdiata ry to the character of the person whose name it bears. It has set up a religion of pomp and of revenue, in pretended imitation of a person whose life was humi ility and poverty. The panties of purgatory, and of the releasing of souls therefrom, by prayers, bought of the eeungls sash money} the selling of pardons, dispensations and indul cences, are revenue laws, without be anni that name or carrying that appearance. But the case nevertheless is. that those things derive their origin from the paroxysm of the crucifixion and the theory deduced therefrom, which was, that one person could stand in the place of anothe r, and could perform meni- torious services for him. The probability, therefore, is, thatae a | : PART 1.] THE AGE OF REASON, 23 the whole theory or doctrine of what is called the redemp ; 4 1 > re ~ ” } ie. i tion (which is said to have been accor nplishe d by the act of one person in the room of another) was inally fabricated on purpose to briny s forward and | ‘ wv } ¥ Ae y ] and ULC those secondary and n m1} i's 11} and p ecuniary redemptions y Opon and that the passages in aires ] ae , = > the bool th des f r of | : 7* ) WOrk mMiracies, Merial fli. Hiss ae al sc sees bh) 1; vince, then, no external evidence can, at this iong distance we. 4 oi, ee ey cae YD as ye 7 of time, be proaucea to prove whether the church cated = } : 1] ] He: ° fe . the doctrines called reaemption or not, (for such evidence, abri whether for or against, would be subject to th picion of being fabricated,) the case can o1 ily be referrex < i Cit tO the internal evidence which the thing carries within itself; and this affords a verv strong presun ption of its being a fabrication. For the internal e, 1dence is, that the theory or doctrine of redemption has for its basis an idea of pecuniary justice, and not that of moral If I owe a person money, and cannot pay him, and he threatens to put me in aoe another person can : debt upon himself, and pay it for me; but if I have com- mitted a crime, every circumstance of the case is changed; moral justice cannot take the innocent for the guilty, even if the innocent would offer ae To suppose justice to do this, is ‘to destroy the principle of its existence, which is the thing itself; it is then no lor nger justice; it is indiscriminate revenge. This single reflection will show that the doctrine of redemption is founded on a mere pecuniary idea, correspond- ing to ‘that of a debt, which another person might pay; and as this pecuniary idea corresponds again with the system of second redemptions, obtained through the means of money given to the church for pardons, the probability is, that the ieee et Dek he ae | ie eo ee | ° mo S % a ne D Bs | a) a ” hee etd en oS Sade 'e* oe Peete ++ tes eBieeiia Lee Pa - eT Teach ee a24 THE AGE OF REASON | PART I. game persons fabricated both one and the other of those theories, and that, in truth, there is no such thing as redemption; that it is fabulous, and that man stands in the same relative coca with his Maker he ever did stand, since man existed, and that it is his greatest consolation to think so. Let him believe this, and he will live more ae sistently and morally, than by any other system; it is by his being taught to contemplate himself as an out- lene, as an out- cast, as a beggar, as a mumper, as one thrown, as it were, on a dunghill, at an immense distance from his Creator, and who must make his a pproac s-hes by creeping and cringing to intermediate beings, thathe conceives either a contemptuous disregard for everything under the name of religion, or becomes indifferent, or turns what he calls, devout. In the latter case, he consumes his life in grief, or the affectation of. it; his prayers are re oe nes; his humility is ingratitude; he calls himself a worm, and the fertile earth a dunghill; and all the b blessings of life by the thankless name of vani- ties; he despises the choicest gift of God to man—the errr OF RI LASONS and having endeavored to force upon himself the belief of a system against which reason revolts, he un- gratefully calls it human reason, asif man could give reason ov ~ to himself. a aa Yet, with a this contempt for presumptions; he ness is never satis He takes on himsel this strange ‘ee rance of humility, and | 1man reason, he ventures into the boldest inds fault with everything; his selfish- ied; his ingratitude is never at an end. to direct the Almighty what to do, even In the government of the universe; he prays dictatorially; when it is sunshine he prays for rain, and when it is rain, he prays for sunshine; he follows the same idea in every- thing that he prays for; for what is the amount of all his eS ay an ee to make the Almight ty change his re say nea knowest ‘Het so well as I. Ba some perhaps will say—“Are we to have no word of God—no revelation? I answer, Yes: there is a word of God; there is a revelation THE wor OF Gop Is THE CREATION WE BEHOLD: And it is in this word, which no human invention ean counterfeit or alter, that God speaketh universally to man.PART 1. | , THE AGE OF REASON. 25 he Human language is local and changeable, andis, therefore, incapable of being used as the means of unchangeable and universal information. The idea that God sent Jesus Christ to publish, as they y say, the glad tidings to all nations from one end of eo earth to the ‘other, is consistent one with the ignorance of those who knew not! ung of the extent of the world, and who believed, as those world-savi Urs iOU ae ae a ’ 4 : pelieved, and continued to believe, On several centuries Po 1 r - 5 41 ec a } : (ana aes In cK mtr aaiction to the discoveries OI philosophers and the experience of navigat tors), that ae sarth was flat € Veit 8 ba oh Ye pa Season it : 1 3 hike a trencher, and that a man might walk to the end of ik But how wa all nations? He could s speak but one language, which was ¥ art ss } 1 . 7 = 3 Hebrew; and there are in the world several hundred Cx. } . ee languages. ocarceiy any two nations speal the same lan- guage, or understand each other; and as age translations every man who knows anything of languages, knows that it was impossible to translate from one Yang uge to another he origi is Jesus Christ to make anything known to } not only without not losing a great part of ua 4 t fe gin frequently of mistaking the sense; and besides all this, the art: of printing was ‘wholly unknown at the time Christ iived. It is always necessary that the means that are to accom- plish any end, be equal to the accomplishment of that end, or the end cannot be accomplished. li as: in this, that the c difference between finite and infinite power and wis sdom dis- covers itself. Man fre quently fails in accomplishing his } 4 1 4} = 7 i 4 4 : Noe ends, from a natural ina the power to the purpose; )¢ . at “ . a Di A e and frequently from the want of wisdom to apply power - ~ ~ 7 . > *7 . ye o = a fi rt properly. But it is impossible for infinite power and . - el A a ee Shee . 2 ib. ee wisdom to fail as man faileth. The means it useth are always equal to the end; but human language, more espe- cially as there is not an universal language, is incapable of being used as an universal means of unchangeable and uniform information, and therefore it not the means that God useth in manifesting himself universally to man. It is only in the crREATION that all our ideas and concep- tions of a word of God can unite. The creation speaketh an uniyersal language, independently of human speech or human language, multiplied and various as they be. It is an ever-existing original, which every man can read. It SERPS DAQOE Es a : PY a 4 ¥ oe s ' * J ) = a ritattte * Ne 4 md > ‘geerysatese+ Seriyarr ee? fess26 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART LI. cannot be forged; it cannot be counterfeited ; it- cannot be lost ; it cannot be altered ; it cannot be UDR ty It does not depend upon the will of man whether it shall be pub- lished or not; it publishes itself from one end of the earth tothe other. It preaches to all nations and to all worlds; and this word of God reveals to man all that is nec essary for man to know of God. Do we want to contemplate his power? We see it in the unchangeable order by which the incomprehensible whole is governed. Do we want to contemplate his munifi- cence? We see in the abundance with which he fills the earth. Do we want t to contemplate his mercy? We see it in his not withholding that abundance even from the un- thankful. In fine, do we want to know what God is? Search not the book called the Scripture, which any human hand might make, but the Scripture called the Creation. The only idea man can affix to the name of God, is that of a first cause, the a ae of all things. And, incomprehen- wens C sible and diffic salt sitis fora man to conceive what a first cause is, he arrives at the belief of it. f om ba tenfold greater difficulty of disbelieving it. It is difficult be yond description to conceive that space can have no end ae it 1s more difficult to conceive an end. It is difficult beyond the power of man to conceive an aioe duration of what we call time; but it is more impossible to conceive a time when there shall be no time. In hke manner of reasoning, everything we behold carries in itself the internal evidence that it did not make itself. Every man is an evidence to himse If, that he did not make himself; neither could his father make himself, nor his grandfather, nor any of hi S race; neither sees any tree, plant, or animal make itse ik If; and itis the conviction ari Ising from this evidence, that carries us on, as it were. by neces- sity, to the ce of a first cause eternally existing, of a nature totally different to any matcrial existence we know of, and by the Bane of which all things exist; and this first cause, man calls God. It is only by the exercise of reason, that man can dis- cover God. Take away that reason, and he would be in- capable of under ‘standing anyt things and in this case it peng be just as consistent to read eve 1 the book ealled the Bible to a horse as to a man. How ae is it that those people pretend to reject reason ?\ PART I, | THE AGE OF REASON. 27 Almost the only parts in the book called the Bib ole, that convey to us any idea of God, are some chapters in Job, and the 19th P salm: I recollect no other. Those parts are true deistical compost ions; for th ey treat of the Deity through his works. They take the book of Creation as : as the word of God, they refer to no other book, and all the inferences they make are drawn from that volume. I insert in this place the 19th Psalm, as par: phrased t Into ae ish verse by Addison. I recollect not the prose and e | of : write this I have not the opportunity of seeing The spacious firmament on hich, With all the biue ethe rial sky, And spangled ae avens, a shining frame, Their great oris inal p 5 The unwearied sun, oe day to day, Does his a reator’s power display; And publishes to « very land, The we OCialImM, rk of an Almighty hand. Soon as the even ng sha ae 8 prevail, ‘he moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the Hate ing earth, Repeats the story of her vir nig Wh Ist all the stars that round 1 r burn, And all the planets. in their tah Confirm the tidings as they roll Aud spread the truth De pole to pole, What though in solemn siic nce all Move round this dark t risatelal ball; What thouch no real voice, nor sound, Amidst their radiant orbs bx found, In reason’s ear tlie all rejoice, And utter forth a eloriy us voice Forever sing ing ast they shine, THE HAND THAT MADE US Is DIVINE. What more does man want to kno w, than that the hand or power that made these things is Divine, is Omnipoten a Let him believe this with the force it is impossible to repel, if he permits his reason to act, and his rule of moral life will follow of course. The allusions in Job have, all of them, the same tend- ency with this Psalm: that of deducing or proving a truth that would be otherwise unknown, ‘trom truths already known. I recollect not enough of the passages in Job to insert them correc Uys ee there is one occurs to me that is appli- cable to the subject I am speaking upon: “Canst ou. by searching find out Ge od? Canst thou find out the Alimnig} ity to perfection 1 } JOULE Ere tt T ire ry te! * a t A o J By * rs 4 * “ ~ ay acceler ey eS) Pe De Bhi Boek bk | Nash ete ES28 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART L. I know not how the printers have pointed this passage, for I CED no Bible; but it contains two distinct é questions that vdmit of di stinct answers. : < I g find out God? Yes; because, an 7 10w I did not make myself, and yet I have cs anc¢ ae searching into the nature of other ¢ s, I find that no other thing could make itself; and yet millions of other things exist; therefore it is, that know, by positive conclusion T sulting from this search, i KnOwW, Dy positive cc 7 ~ , y 71 that there is a power superior to all those things, and that power is God. N + c Janst Secondly—C thou find out the Almighty to perfec- tion? No; not only because the power and wisdom He has manifested in the struct ture of the Creation that I behold is to me inc comprehen sib le, but Peoause even this manifestation, great as it is, is probably but a small display y of that immen- sity of power and wisdom, ns which millions of other worlds, to me invisible by their distance, were created and continue to exist. ; It is evident that both of these questions are put to the reason of the person to whom they are supposed to have been addressed; and it is only by admitting fie first. ques- tion to be answered affirmative ely, that the second could low. It would have been unnecessary, and even absurd, > have put a second question, more difficult than the first, if es first question had been answered negatively. The two questions have different objects; ne first refers to the existence of God, the second to his attri outes; reason can discover the one, but it falls infinit oly te ort in discovering the whole of the other. I recollect not a single passage in all the writings ascribed to the men called apostles, that convey any idea of what God is. Those writings are chiefly controversial; and the subject they dwell upon, that of a man dying in agony on & cross, is ‘better suited to the gloomy genius of a monk in a cell, by whom it is not impo »ssible thi ey were written, than to any man breathing the open air of the Creation. The only passa ize that occurs to me, that has any reference to the works of God, by which only his power and wisdom ean be known, is related to have been spoken by Jesus Christ, as a remedy against distrustful care. “ Behol d the lihes of the field , they toil not, neither do they spin.” This, folPART L } THE AGE OF REASON, 2 Ad ae a ise HOT e the pier in Job and in the svtn rsalm; but It 1S Similar jn ide a, and the modesty of the hnagery 1s corresponde nt to the mode sty of the man. As to the Christian System of faith, it appears to me as a species of atheism—a sort of religiou s denial of God. It professes to believe.in a man rather than in God: it is*'a compound made up chiefly of manism with but little deism, and is as near to atheism as twilioht is to doin oa It introduces ip etwee 1 man and his Maker an Opaque body, which it ealls a eder 2mer, as the moon introduces her Opaque self hobads, the earth and the sun, anc by this means a reli: gious or an irreligious ecli It has put the whole orbit of reason into shade. The effect of this obscurity has been that of turning every thing upside down, and representing it in reverse; and among the revolutions it 7 as thus magically produced, it has made a revolution in theology. t 1 it produces ipse. of heht. That which is now called natural philosophy, embracing the whole circle of science, of which astronomy oe the chief place, is the study of the works of God, and of the power and wisdom of God in his works, and is the true the ology. As to the theology, that is now studied in its place, it is the study of human eieenele and of human fancies concern- ing God. It is not the study of God himself in the works that he has mad e, but in the works or wr itings that man has made; and it is Hot among the least of the mischiefs that the Christa system has done to the world, that it has aban- doned a original and beautiful system %6E theology, like a beautiful inno cent, to distress and Teproach, to make room for the sn of superstition. The Books of Job and the 19th P salm, which even the Church admits to be more ancient ie the chronological order in Sie they stand in the book called the Bible, are theological orations conformable to the original system of theology. The internal evide ence of those orations proves to a demonstration that the st udy and contemplation of the works of creation, and of the power and wisdom of God, re- vealed and manifested in fee works, made : great part of the religious devotion of the times in wien they were writ- ten 5 ar nd if waa this’ dé votional study and contemplation that led to the discovery of the principles upon which, what eee Piet Pee ey . _ ¥ _ “ J Bd | oy qgerge a aid! She dle a ssivevereet30 THE AGE OF REASON, [PART I. are now called sciences, are established; and it is to the discovery of these principles that almost all the arts that contribute to the convenience of human life, owe their exist- ence. Every principa ul art has some science for its parent, though the person ‘who mechanical ly performs the work does not always, and bt ‘vere seldom, perceive the connec- tion. It is a fraud of the Christian system to call the sciences human invention ; it is only the application of them that is human. Hvery science has for its basis a system of princi- ples as fixed and unalterable as those by which the universe is regulated and governed. Man cannot make principles; he can only discover them. For example—every person who looks at an almanac sees an account when an eclipse will take pla nee and he sees also that it never fails to ica Bee e spre: to the account there given. This ws that man is acc nted with the laws by which - ie heav wenls bolt 2s move. a it would be something worse than ignorance, were any Churc to say that those > laws are a human invention. It would also be ignorance, or something worse, to say that the scientific principles, by the aid of which man is enabled to calculate and foreknow when an eclipse will take place, are a human invention. Man cannot invent a thing that is eternal and immutable ; and the scientific principles he employs for this purpose must, and are, of necessity, as eternal and immuta- ble as the laws by which the heavenly bodies move, or they could not be used as they are to ascertain the time when, and the manner how, an eclipse will take place. The scientific princ ip! les that man employs to obtain the foreknowledge of an ¢ -clipse, or of any thing else, relating to the motion of the heaven ly bodies, are contained chiefly in that part of science which is called trigonometry, or the prope rties of a triangle, which, whe applied to the study of the heavenly bodies, is called ae ny; when appli ied to direct the course of a ship on the ocean, it is called naviga- tion; when applied to the construction of figures drawn ‘by rule and compass, it is called x eometry 5 when applied to Bae construction of plans of edifice Ss, 1t is called architecture when applied to the measurement of any portion of the ares fee of the earth, it is called land- surveying. In fine, it is the soul of science; it is an eternai truth ; ; 1t contains the sh on earthPART I. | THE AGE OF REASON. 31 mathematical demonstration of which man extent of its uses is es It may be said that man can make or draw a tria; ngle, and therefore a tr langle is a human inve; ition. Bits a4 ] Hut the triaz ale Speaks, and the ‘ when drawn, is no other than the image of the princi iple ; It is a delineatic on to the eye, and from thence to the mind, of a principle that would; otherwise be impercept ible. The triangle does not make the principle, ‘ % CA | +a ]- + odors en bc 4 : Dee gh any more than a candle taken into a room that was dark. Re ae os ee 5a 14 ge ey eae : aad Al] makes the Chairs and tables that before were invisible. Al] a triangle exist indep endently of the figure, the prope rtles ] = 1 7 1 betore any triangle was drawn or thought of by and existed U man. Man had no moreto do in the formation of those prop- erties or princ ciples, than he had ‘to do | in making the laws by which the he: ivenly bodies move ; and therefore the one must have the same Divi ine origin as the other. In the same manner as. it may be said, that 1 can make ; : a triangle, so als 7 ma ), may it be sa uid, 1e@ can make th ne mechani- cal instrument called ale ver; hutce the prine iple, by which the lever acts, is a thir 12 distinct from the 7 istrument, and would exist if the i nstrument ae not; it attaches itself to the in- Strument after it is m ; the instrument, therefore, can act no otherwise that it aiaee adie neither can all the efforts of human invention min it act otherwise—that whi. ch, in all such cases, man calls the effect, is no other than the principle itself rendered percept ible to the senses Since, then, man cannot ma ike e principles, from whence did he gain a knowledge of them, so to be able to apply them, not only to things on earth, but to ascertain the motion of bodies so imme! isely distant from him as all the heaven! Vy bodies are? From whence, I ask, could he gain that. lnowe: edee, but from the study of the true theology? ? It is the structure of the un iverse that has taught this knowledge toman. That structure is an ever-exist ting ex- hibition of every principle upon which ey ery part of mathe- matical science is founded. The ispring of this science is mechanics; for mechanics is no obhier than the principies of science applied prac tically. The man who proportions the several] parts of a mill, uses the same scientific princi- ples, as if he had the power of constructing an universe : but as he cannot give to matter that visit le agency, by which all the component parts of the immense machigde of beet Liat eT PP eater? Fee = **Sfhsasarreest«+4 - J J * * q * . * . » * » mi 7) -” - - oa Ps “gee Savereie oT | eae32 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. the universe have influence upon each other, and act in motional unison together, without any apparent contact, and to which man has given the name of attraction, gravi- eb and repulsioi n, he supplies the place of that agency by t he humble imitation of teeth and cogs. All the parts h; but could he gain & He aca ace te : of man’s microcosm must visibly tour that agency, so as to be able to apply it in a knowledge of a : 2 ees 7. fe > ther eanonical book of practice, we might then say t the Word of God had If man could alter the properties 1s of the le ver, SO also pment _ £ m4 _ =~ could he alter the properties of the triangle; f for a lever (taking that sort of ee r which called a steel-yard, for the sake of expla anation) forms when in motion, a trian ale. “he line it descends from, (one point of that line being in the fulcrum,) the line it descends to, and the cord of the arc, which the end of the lever describes in the air, are the three sides of a triangle. The other arm of the lever de- scribes also a tr manatee and the corresponding sides of those ae triangles, calcu ated scientificall y, or measured geomet- ically; and also the sines, tangents, and secants generated om the angles, and geometrically measured, have the same proportions to each other, as the di fferent weights have that will balance each other on the lever, leaving “the weight of Bs lever out of the case. It may also be said, that man can make a wheel and axis; that he can put wheels of different magnitudes togeth- er, and produce a mill. Still the case comes back to the same point, which is, that he did not make the principle that gives the wheels those powers. That principle is as nalterable as a the former case, or rather it is the same principle under a different appearance to the eye. The power that two wheels of different magnitudes have upon each other, is in the same proportion as if the semi- diameter of the two wheels were joined together and made into that kind of lever I have described, suspended at the part where the semi-diameters oe for the two wheels, scientific a conside pec d, are no other than the two circles generated by the motion of me compound lever. ? It is from the study of the true theok ogy that all our knowledge of science is derive ‘ and itis from that ] edge th at all the arts have originated. f a of Or StiCKS; it navigates tl ittie ocean of a bowl of ag acer Witla a og boat, OY dams t : ] the dead lancuaces. could not be the cause, at first. of eut- ting down learning to the narrow and humble sphere of ling-uistry ; the cause, therefore, must be sought for else- where. In all researches of this kind. the best svidence that can be produced. jis the eternal evidence the. thi ee . \ - 7 carries with itself, and the evidence of cit cumstances t Pca % rith 1+ : +f + | Wy 1 »} + ins mf > jr > eee uniltes W ALil Lb 3 DOtn OL Whol O, in nis ¢ G4 are not alimcult Mate ei OL a ge : ; { 7 Eo eAtcad f 1 1c I ULLINS, TNEN, asi iC, aS a Matter of aistinct consideration, ee pers os ae fi to j } ; ; 5 Ox 1 } Loe Outrage Onered to the moral justice of (700, DY su pos- . , é e ‘ . : : ov ing nim to make the innocent suffer for the ray itty ) ‘ - : ers OOSE Morality ana low contrivance oi suppoOsINGE him tO er — DS A .¢® — d excuse to himself for not sea es g his supposed sentence upon Adam ; putting, I say, those things aside as a matter of distinct consideration, it is certain that what is called the COLL i ui Christian system of faith, including in it the whimsical ac- mCQIINt at + | aA ere 14 n—the atrange atoru nt Hwa thin cane ita COunT OT th creatlon—tne s range story OL mve—tne snake and the en pisces idea of a Mran-2O0-—tuie Cor: a | ay pia ee } pee Ure ID ae PsA aay poral 1aea ot the deat of a 2od—the mytnologicai idea of a = a cr eC oy 1 ae +-> = ‘ 7 at A | re famil V ot ee a I 5 istian System of eee ImMetic nat Vv — 2 three are ree to the divine oift of reason, that God er civen to man, | a to the knowlec and wisdor CL dete 99 — v et ol As fo =~ ew pu ~ — — W* a / - eo emgesd CY ad — = — < 7 PSCASRESEAERAQLE Ls ee eo hs eee . — rs os . rc 7 . - . a S * a ceegt a iee s+ “9 Pee ee ted a2Lt he bs seeiest 36 THE AGE OF REASON, [PART I, of God, by the aid of the sciences. and bv studying the strue- = 3 ) 5 a/ v cS) 7 . > : } op. < a ey ad ture of the universe that God nas made. ihe setters-up therefore, and the advocates of the Ch ris- tian system of fajth, could not but foresee that the continu- ally progressive knowledge that man would gain, by the aid of science, of the power and wisdom of God, manifested in the structure of the universe, and in all the works of Creation, would militate against, and call into question, the truth of their system of faith; and therefore it bec ame nec cessary to their purpose to cut leart ning ee to a size less dangerous to the sr pro) ject, and oie they effected by restrict- ing the idea, of learning to the dead study of dead lanon uag@es a hey not only eet the sand of science out of Ae Christian schools, but they persecuted it; and it is only within about the eee two centuries that the study has been revived. So late as 1610, G: ulileo, a Florenti ne, discovered and introduced the use of tele scopes, and by app lying them to observe the motions and appearance bodies, afforded addi tional means for ascertaining the true structure of the universe. Instead of bel Ing eatecnied for those discoveries, he was sentenced to renounce them, or the of the heave nly Cir opinions resulting from them, as a damn: able herase. a prior to that ti ime, Vio villus was condemned to be burned f for asserting the antipodes, or in ae words, Aa the earth was a globe 2, and habitable in e ery part where there was land; yet the truth of this is now re well ghee even to be told. If the belief of errors not morally bad did no mischief, it would make no part of the moral duty of man to Oppose and remove them. There was no moral ill in believing the earth was flat like a trencher, any more than there was moral virtue in believing that it was round like a globe; neither was there any moral ill in believing that the Grastoe made no other world than this, any more than there was moral virtue in beli leving that he made millions, and that the mula of space is filled with worlds. But when a system of religion is made to Srow out of a supposed system of creation that is not true, and to unite itself therewith in a manner almost inseparable therefrom, the case assumes an entirely different ground. It is then that errors, not morally bad, become fraught with the same mischiefs ley were. It is then that the truth, though others erent itself, becomes an oc 5 + as I] Lt vise indiffe[> r" ’ ” \ 1 ‘ x ~ pe PART I. | THE AGE OF REASON. dd essential, by becoming the criterion, that either confirms by corresponding evidence, Or denies by Contr: cietory e mid ] 1G, tne reality of the relizion itself. In s view of the eas it is the moral duty of Man to obtain every p sible evid ni ( that the structure of the heavens, or any oth, r pa yf ex tion affords, with respect to systems of reliov: But this, the supporters or partisans of the Caristian system, as if dreading the result, incessant ly ¢ PI osed, and not only rejected the sciences. but persecuted the Riles aa Newton or Descartes lived three or four hun lred years ago, and pursued their studies as they did, it is most prob able they would not have lived to fi; lish them; and had Franklin drawn lightning from the clouds at the same time, it would have been at the hazard of expiring for it in flames. Later times have laid all the blame upon the Goths and Vandals; but, however unwilli ig the partisans of the Chris- tian System may be to believe or to acknowledge if, If 4s nevertheless true, that the age of ignorance commenc eed with the Christian system. There was more knowle dge in the world before that period, than for maz 1y centuries afterwards; and as to religious knowledge, the Christian system, as already said, was only another species of mythology; and the mythology to which it succeeded, was a corruption of an ancient system of theism.* t is owing to this long interregnum of science, and to no other cause, that we have now to look through a vast chasm of many hundred years to the respectable characters *It is impossible for us now to know at what time the heathen raloey began; but it is ce rtain, from the internal evidence that it carries, that it did not begin in the same st: ate or condition in whic h it ended. All the gods of that mythology, except Saturn, were of mox lern invention. The supposed reign of Saturn was prior to that which is called the heathen mythol ogy, and was so far a species of theism, that it admitted the beliefof onty one God. Saturn is supposed to have abdicated the government in favor of his three sons and one daneheer Jupiter, Pluto, Neptune, and Juno: after this, thonsanda of other gods and demi- gods were it nas vinarily created, and the calendar of gods increased as fast as the cale ndar of saints and the calendars of courts h: ive increased since. All the corruptions that have taken pl: ice, in theology andin religion, have been produced by apace i - what man calls revealed religion. The Mythologists pretended to more re realed religion than the Christians do They had their oracles and their priest 3, who were supposed to receive and deliver the word of God ve rbal ly, On almost all occasions. ee Since then all corruptions down from Moloch to modern prede Saar as and the niintad sacrifices of the heathens to the Christian sacrifice of the Creator, have been produced ri “Lipa oad of what is called revealed religion: the most effectual means to prevent all such evils and imr positions is, not to admit of any other revelation than that which is manifested in the book of creation, and te contemplate the creation as the only true and real work of God that ever did, or ever will exist; and that everything else called the word of God, is fable and imposition Pete e Crore rere as ee eee tee eee eae J 4 an) . * . e. S + i) » ve ‘a zr ad oo cd Ca ad a. hal38 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART L we call the ancients. Had the progression of knowledge yortionably with the stock that before e existe od, that chasm would have been filled up with characters rising superior ‘e to each other; and those dnalents we now so much ad Imire, would have appeared respectably in t] Packeaoind of the scene. But the Christian system -e: and if we take our stand about the beg inning be ‘y, we look back through ae long sm, to pee times of the ancients, as over a vast sandy des. | appears to intercept the vision, to one “( gone on pro e ~ coco It is an 1 ossible to be credited, that any th ng should exibty ans sr the name of a religion, that ’ < c : Se 7 “ held it to be irreligious to study and « ontemplate the struc- ture of the universe ‘that God had made. But the fact is too } pote es Se ce aa M1, - Sas pats ois ok oe vell established to be denied. he event that served more ’ 7 1 Rd ® 7 wa 7 t s yo 1an any other to break the first link in this iong chain of despotic ionoranc e,1S that known by the name of the Refor- mation by Luther. FHrom that me, | -houg rh it does not appear a to have made any part of the intention of Lutl 1er, or of those vho are called reformers, the sciences began to revive, : and berality, their natural associate, began to ar ypear. This | bli the Reformation did ; for, with ; | not have taken ythology still continued the same ; and a mul- tiplicity of National Popes grew out of the downfall of the Sa ad ] /OTIStTECNGOM, le res ar cee ae rea Fe } i 5 axe Re faving thus shown irom the internal evidence of things, 1 raed +: } ' } a ee oo the cause that produce ed a chi: ange in the state of les ming, ta en oes pie ees rs eR ge ie oa) : re a : ana the motive tor substitutine the Stuay Ot Qead languages S | ] Pr 4) : + J zs Py 3i2 } os ) Slana nt # > ania yo ' rry\/ 1 4 . ‘ r im toe place ot the SCLENCES, I proceeaqa, in aaaition to the sev- eral observations, already made in the former part of this work, to compare, or rather to confront the evidence that the structure of the universe affords, with the ee ristian Sys- tem of religion; but, as I cannot begin this part better than by referring to the ideas that occurred to me at an early: part of life, and which I doubt not have occurred in some decree to almost every other person at one time or other, I shall state what those ideas were, and add thereto such other matter as shall arise out of the subje ct, giving to the whole, by way of preface, a short introductio ny. : My father being of the (Juaker profession, it was my goodPART I.] THE AGE OF REASON, 39 fortune to have an exceedin g good moral e ducation, and toierable stock of useful le: arning. Tho ugh I went to t SC shool,* I did not fecaue Latin, not only because cling ee to learn languages, but because of the ob- 1e Qt uaker S nave aga LInSst the books in whi ch the lan- guage is taught. But this “did not prevent me from being acquainted with the sub jects of all the Latin books used in the sc shool. The ie natural bent of my mind was to science. [had some ~~ em OD we 1 jectio yn i i turn, and I believe some talent for poetry ; but this I rather repressed than encou rag * as leading too much into ad g t of imagination. As SO yn as I was able, I purchased a pair of eee, and attended the philosophical lect rti Ferg of he society, called the Royal Socie y, then living in the Temple, and an excellent astronomer. i 7 ? ‘ . . . YARPAm c “war Qs OY ro ¥ uson, and became afterwards acquainted wit 1 I had no di isposition for what is called politics. It pre- sented to my mind no other idea — is contained in the word Jockeyship. When, therefore towards matters of government, [ |} Bees that accorded with Ake ra urned my thoughts rr r ae et LL ( oT 7 Ee. ; 4 | a — : ) es in which I had been educated. | Saw, OI at: least q t 1d to foray a syste em . vY iodehi [ saw, a vast scene opening itself to the world in the affairs of America; and it appeared to me, that unless J ae PY the Americans c} anged.the plan they were then pursuing i +, +} Tarn + ; : with re Spect to the government of rns oland, and declared themselves indepen dent, they would 1 Lot o nly involve them- selves in a multiplic ity of new difficulti les, but shut out t prospect cad was then et itself to mankind throug their means. It was from these motives that ] publ lished the work known by the name of “ Common Sense,” which is t] first work I ever did publish; and so far as I can jud believe I should never have been oe in the world as an author, on any subject whatever, had it not been for the affairs of America. I wrote e@uminon Sense” the latter end of the year 1775, and published it the first of Jan- uary, 1776. Independence was declared the fourth of July following. Any person, who has made observations on the state and progress of the human mind, by observing his own, *The same school, Thetford in orfolk, that the present Counselor Mingay went, to and under the same figeie. ake STASEE RAPE Aa QSE Tedis dy " Po . 4 a rs D a Pd of ~ “” 7 *gerrye to ahaid i ker daha Pi eeee ea eek es rhe be eseeeds rT a cs40 THE AGE OF REASON. [PaRT I. cannot but have observer 1, that there are two distinct classes of what are called Thoughts; those that we produce in ourselves by reflection and the act of thinking, and those that bolt into the mind of their own accord. I have als ways made it a rule to treat those voluntary visitors with Givi lity, taking care to examine, as well as I “was ae if they were worth entertaining ; and it is from them I have acquired almost all the knowledge that I have. AS to ue learning that any person gains from school education, it serves only like a small capital, to put him in the way of beginning learning for! himself afterwards. Every person of learning is fins ally his own teacher, the reason of which is, that prin- ciples, being of a distinct quality to ee om be impressed upon the memory; their place of mental resi- dence is the understanding, and they are never so lasting as. when they begin by conception. Thus much for the intro- ductory part. From the time I me as capable of conceiving an heer and acting upon it by ref lection, I either doubted 1 seth of the Christian s system, or though t it to be a eae affair; I scarcely knew which it was; but I well remember, cake about seven or eight years of age, ae a sermon read by a relation of mine, who was a great devotee of the church, upon the subject of what is called redemption by the death of the Son of God.. After the sermon was ended, I wentinto the garden, andas I was going down the gi arden steps (for I perfectly recollect the s spot) “I revolted at the recollection of what I had heard, and thought to myself that it was making God Almighty act like a passionate man, that killed his . son, when he could not revenge him- self any other way; and as I was sure a man would be hanged that did auch a thing, I could not see for what pur- pose they preached such sern ions. This was not one of that kind of thoughts that had anything in it of childish levity; it was to me a serious reflection, arising from the idea I had, that God was too good to do such an action, and also ton almighty to be under any necessity of doing it. I believe in the same manner at this moment; and I more- over believe, that any system of religion that has any thing in it that shocks the mind of a child, cannot be a true: System. It seems as if parents of the Christian profession were anPART L. | THE AGE OF REASON, 41 } tha Y) 3 a 4 “4 ) ; ashamed to tell their children any thing about the prin- te 1 ie f 1] c si 2 Oo : A Li f ciples 7 of their reli gion. Chey sometimes instruct them in morals n L ; ae aise ad : rals, a d talk to them of the goodness of what they call : | \ as > eae rovid eek for the se Mythology has five deities— there is God the Father. God the Sar } ‘hs es “Pp the I aAtNer, rod the Son, Go rd the Ho ly Ghost, ray ror "TOVICaNnR: and ha | ze a. L roviden< eC, and the Goddess iN lature. But the Cristian story of God the Father putting his son to death r LY +i whe oO nia ‘ ok (Be. Ls it te ° 1 ; OF EMploy ras peopt to do lt, (101 that is the plain lanouagre of the story, ) cannot be told by a parent to a child: and e| : y thea 14 Vy § ] NT ¢ > a y Iz C } ] to Tt LT him LOoat 1b Was Gone to make mankind happier and A worse; as if mankind could le of murder; and to tell him that all this is a mystery, is on ly making an excuse for the incredibility of it. } better, is making the story sti Lite: ; be improved by t I AL A : 2 1; 7 a ee so aS 4 , C : How ecrent is this to the pure and simple profession oe di) ES ace ee ne do Tyaad ity i of De ism- ihe true Deist has but one Deity; and his Bon consists in contemplating the power, wisdom and bemlgnity of the Deity in his works, and in endea woring to imitate him in every thi ung moral, scientifical and me chanical. rt = ss 7 Che religion that approaches the nearest of all others to true Deism, in the moral and benign part thereof, is that AP ics Poe fee : 283 : professed by the Quakers: but they have contracted them- selves too much, by leaving the works of God out of their re > \ rr 77" T » } f system. Though I reverence their philanthropy, I can not help smiling at the conceit, that if the taste of a Quaker could have been consulted at the creation what a silent and drab-colored creation it would have been! Not a nig 1) a‘ flower would have blossomed its gaities, nor a bird been permitted to siz no, Quitting these reflections, I proceed to other matters After I had made myself master of the use of me cade and of the orrery,* and conceived an idea of the infinity of space, and the eternal divisability of matter » and obtaine os at least,a general knowledge of what was called natura phil losophy, I began to compare, or, as I have before said, * As this book may fall into the hands of persons who do not know what an orrery is, it is for their information I add this note, as the name gives no id a of the uses of the thing. The orrery has its name from the person who invented it. It is a machinery of clock-work, representing the universe in miniature, and in which the revolution of the earth round itself and round the sun, the revolution ofthe moon round the earth, the revolution of the planets round the sun, their relative distances from the sun, as the centre of the whole system, their relative distances from each other, and their different magnitudes, are represent- ed as they really exist in what we call the heavens, eth et Deke et ire ar - S . 1 * % S a = ’ ~ | ~ J TTT ati se". : Be anes pee Peds Ct tlt te ees aeetteeehehs te peas: 42 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART 1. to confront the eternal evidence those things afford with the Christian system of faith. Though it is not a direct article of the Christian system, that this’ world that we inhabit is the whole of the habit- able creation, yet it isso worked up therewith, from what is called the Mosaic account of the Creation, the story of Eve and the ap death of the Son to believe that God created a plurality of worlds, at least as numerous as what we call stars, renders the Christian system of faith at once little and ridiculous, and scatters it in the mind like feathers in the air. The two beliefs cannot be held together in the same mind; and he who thinks that he believes both, has thought but little of either. Though the belief of a plurality of worlds was familiar to the ancients, it is only within the last three centuries that the extentand dimensions of this globe that we inhabit have been ascertained. Several vessels, following the tract of the ocean, have sailed entirely round the world, as a man may march in a circle, and come round by the contrary side of the circle to the spot he set out from. The circular dimensions of our world, in the widest part, as a man would measure the widest round of an apple, or a ball, is only twei ty-five thousand and twenty English miles, reckoning sixty-nine miles and a half to an equatorial degree, and may be sailed round in the space of about three years.* A world of this extent may, at first thought, appear to us to be great; but if we compare it with the immensity of space in which it is suspended, like a bubble or balloon in the air, it is infinitely less, in proportion, than the smallest grain of sand is to the size of the world, or the finest particle of dew to the whole ocean, and is therefore but small; and, as will be hereafter shown, is only one of a system of worlds, of which the universal creation is composed. It is not difficult to gain some faint idea of the immensity of space in which this and all the other worlds are suspended, if we follow a progression of ideas. When we think of the size or dimensions of a room, our ideas limit themselves to the walls, and there they stop; but when our eye or our imagination darts into space, that is, when it looks upwards yle, and the counterpart of that story, the f God, that to believe otherwise, that is, *Allowing a ship to sail, on an average, three miles in an hour, she would sail entirely round the world in less than one yar, if she could sail in a direct circles but eh- is obliged to follow the course of the ocean.ae \ PART I. ] THE AGE OE REASON, 43 into what we call the open air, we cannot conceive any walls or bo undaries it can nave; and if for the sake of re sting our Suppose a boundary, the question immedia tely yond that bound ary ? and C ee = i 4 1c J : 7 ) . 1 4 renews itseli, and asks, what is be y in the same manner, what beyond the next boun lary? and so on till the fatigued imagination returns sand says, there ts no end. Certainly, then, the Creator was not pent for room, when he made this world no larger than it is; and we have to seek the reason in somet hing else, If we take a survey of our own world, or rather of this of Cee a which the Creator has given us the use, as our portion in immense system of Creation, we find ey ery part of 1 earth, the waters, and the air that Surrounds it, filled, and, as it were, erowded with life, down from the largest animals we know of to the smallest ins: acts the naked eve ean behold. and from thence to others stil] smaller, and t without the assistance of the n licroscope. Ey ery tree, every plant, every leaf, serves not only as an habitation, mt as a world to some numerous race, till animal exis stence becomes so exceedingly refined, that the effluvia of a blade of grass would be food for thor sands. Since, then, no part of our earth is left unoccupied, wl hy is it to be supposed that the immensit y of space is a naked void, lying in eternal waste? here is room. for millions of worlds as large or la irger than ours, and each of them millions of miles apart from each other. Having now arrived at this point, if we carry our ideas only one thought further, we shall see, perhaps, the ae reason, at least a very good reason, for our hap pines, why the Creator, instead of m: .king one immense world, extending over an immense quanti ty of space, has preferred dividi ing that quantity of matter into several see e, ct and se sparate worl ds, which we call planets, of which our earth is one. But before I explain my ideas upon this sul ject, it is neces- sary (not for the sake of those who seedy: know, but for those who do not) to show what the system of the universe is. That part of the universe that is called the solar system (meaning the system of worlds to which our earth belones, a of which Sol, or in English language, the Sun, is the center) consists, tye sides the Sun, if six distinct obs, or planets, or worlds, besides the secondary bodies, called the pe ah ] TH eee Eos totally pias 1 T mal i Pert : Pee eee. Fe rr | ; y 4 J : J “ end pF led eee ak a ~ Ft eteeee oP ae oe ee ed eh A sehbk Si bt bd eof44 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. satellites or moons of ee our earth has one that attends 7 } oe =] per 1n her annua i! revolution rouna te de] * LLIC? \5 un, In like manner other satellites or moons, “attend the planets o1 : orlds to which ae severally peiong, aS May pe seen b y the assist- ance oi the telescope. r Q . . a ers SI aes eee at e.ermere eto) Erp nh le The Sun is the center, round which those six worlds or a planets revolve at erent distances therefrom, and in 1 world keeps con- the Sun, and con- tinues, fot the same time, turning round itself, in nearly an { circles concentrate to other. Eac 1 : } : 5 aye ee al Stantiy in nearly the same track round uprigh t po sition, - a top turns round itself when it is spin- ning on ee ground, and leans a little sideways. It is this leaning of the earth (234 ¢ lex ogres es) that occasions summer and winte r, al nd the different le: eth of days and aye { nights. If the earth turned round itself ina position per- pendicular to the plane or level of the circle it moves in around the Sun, as a top turns round when it stands erect on the ground, the days and nights would be always of the same length—twelve hours day and twelve hours night— and the seasons would be uniformly the same throughout the year. Every time that a planet (our earth, for example) turns round itself, it makes what we call de Ly and night; and oe time it goes entirely round the Sun, it makes wh: at we call a year; consequently our world turns three hundred and sixty- five times round itself in going once round the Sun* The names that the ancients gave to those six worlds, and which are still called by the same names, are Mercury, Venus, this world that we call ours, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. They appear larger to the eye than the stars, being many mullion miles nearer to our earth than any of the stars are. The planet Venus is that which is called the evening stan, and sometimes the morning star, as she happens to set after or rise before the Sun, which, in either case, is never more than three hours. The Sun, as before said, being the centre, the planet, or world, nearest the Sun is M reury; his distance from the Sun is thirty-four million miles, and he moves round in a circles always at that distance from the Sun, as a top may *Those who supposes d that the Sun went round the made the same mistake, in ide a, that a cook would do in fact that should make ne fire go round ine meat, instead of the meat turning round itself towards the tire, earth ey ery twenty-four hoursPART I. | THE AGE OF REASON. AE “rep ve supposed to spin round in:the track in which a horse YOeaS ; s 71] r ‘ ‘ , , ray ° 7 . roOeS a 1] 2 Vela tal woarlaA Wines oF ~ See are Wy mul. ~The second worid : venus; she 1s fifty- seven million miles distant from the Sun, and conse >quently moves round in a circle much greater than that of Mercury m™ psa a Lice OF ey wane vaslag Uhe third world is that we ada and which is eichty- “1}° “ ie [ 7 : ee) o@ht million m1 iles aistant irom the Sun, and consequen tly moves round in a circle greater than that of Venus. The fourth world is \ tant from the Sun one hun- dred and thirty-four million miles, and consequently move ¢ round in a circle greater than that of our earth. The fifth Jupiter; he is distant a the sun five hundred and fifty-seven million miles, and ¢ nseque ntly moves round in a circle greater than that of Mati Che sixth world is Sat- urn ; he is distant from the Sun seven hundred and sixty- three million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle that surrounds the circles. or Se of all the other worlds ylanets. q OF ] The space, therefore, in the air, or in the immensity of space, that our solar system takes up for the several worlds to perform their revolutions in round the Sun, is of the extent, in a straight line, of the whole diameter of the orbit 4 1 or circle in which Saturn moves round ¢] double his distance from the Sun, is f e Sun, which, being fteen hundred and twenty-six million one and its circular extent is nearly five thousand million ; and its globical content is almost three thousand five hundred million times three thousand five hundred million Square miles.* aw w 3ut this, immense as it is, is only one system of worlds. ] Beyond this, at a vast distance into space, far beyond all power of calculation, are the stars called the’ fixed stars. They are called fixed because they have no revolutionary motion, as the six worlds or planets have that I have been *If it should be asked, how can man krow these things? [ have one plain answer to give, which is that man knows how to calculate an eclipse, and also how to calculate to a minute of time when the planet Venus, in making her revo- Jutions round the Sun, will come in a straight line be tween our earth and the Sun, and will appear to us a ut the size of a large pea passing across the surfice of the Sun. This happens but twice in about an hundred ye are, at the distance of about eight years irom each other, and has happened twice in our time, both of which were foreknown by calculation. It can also be known when they will hap- pen again fora thousand years to come, or to any other portion of time. A8, therefore, man could not be able to do these things if he did not understand the solar system, and the manner in which the revolutions of the several planets or worlds are perfor med, the fact of calculating an eclipse or a transit of Venus is a proof in point that the knowle dge exists; and, as to a few thousand, or even a few million, mile , more or less, it makes scar cely any sensible difference in such im- mense distances, prereset ee pe ee ee od be Bee tESSAPAZRL AR ASRS bedi k, , - 4 7 cd Ps a 4 | “4 BH “” erate ee ote aha "go0° Sovisver at ee ort es46 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. describing. Those fixed stars continue always at the same distance from each Pe and always in the same place, as the Sun ue in the center of our system. The probability, f a therefore, is that each of those fixed stars is also a Sun, round ee anotl ler system of worlds or planets, though too remote for us to discover oe ms its revolutions, as our system of worlds does sau our central Sun. By this easy prog oe of ideas the immensity of space will appear to us to be filled with systems of worlds; and that no part of space hes at waste, any more than any part of the globe or earth and water is left unoce upied. Having thus endeavored to convey, in a familiar and easy ma unner, some idea of the structure of ce universe, | return to explain what I before alluded to, namely, the gn ‘eat benefits arisi 1g to man in consequence ot the Creator having made a plurality of worlds, such as our system consisting of a central Sun and six worlds besides satellites, in preferet nee to that of creating one world only of a vast extent. It is an idea I have never lost sight of, that all our knowle dge of science is derived from the revolutions (ex- hibited to our eye and from thence to our understanding) which those several planets or worlds, of which our system is composed, make in their:circuit round the Sun. Had then the quantity of matter which these six worlds contain been blended into one solitary globe, the conse- quence to us would have been, that either no revolutionary motion would have existed, or not a sufficiency of it to give us the idea and the knowledge of science we now have; and it is from the sciences that all the mechanical arts that contribute so much to our earthly felicity and comfort, are derived. As, therefore, the Creator made nothing in vain, so also must it be polices d that He organized the structure of the universe in the most advantageous manner for the benefit of man; and as we see, and from experience feel, the bene- fits we derive from the structure of the univ verse, formed as it is, which benefits we should not have had the opportunity of enjoying, if the structure, so far as relates to our system, had been a solitar y globe—we can discover at least one reason why a plurality of worlds has been made, and that reason calls forth the devotional gratitude of man, as well as his admiration.PART I. | THE AGE OF REASON. 47 But it is not to us, the inhabitants of this globe, only, hat the benefits arising from a plurality of worlds are imited. The inhabitants of each of the worlds of which our system is composed, enjoy the same opportunities of knowledge as we do. They behold the revolutionary mo- v/ tions of our earth, as we behold theirs. All the planets t U } j i he revolve in sight of each other ; and, therefore, the same universal school of science presents itself to all. Neither does the knowledge stop here. The system of worlds next to us exhibits, in its revolutions, the same principles and school of science, to the inhabitants of their system, 28 our system. does to ‘Us, andy in’ Hike maniex throughout the immensity of space. Our ideas, not only of the almightiness of the Creator, but of his wisdom and his beneficence, become enlarged in proportion as we contemplate the extent and the structure of the universe. The solitary idea of a solitary world, roll- ing or at rest in the immense ocean of space, gives place to the cheerful idea of a society of worlds, so happily con- trived as to administer, even by their motion, instruction to man. We see our own earth filled with abundance ; but we forget to consider how much of that abundance is owing to the scientific knowledge the vast machinery of the uni- verse has unfolded. But, in the midst of those reflections, what are we to hink of the Christian system of faith, that forms itself upon the idea of only one world, and that of no greater extent, as is before shown, than twenty-five thousand miles? An extent which a man, walking at the rate of three miles an hour, for twelve hours in the day, could he keep on in a circular direction, would walk entirely round in less than two years. Alas! what is this to the mighty ocean of space, and the almighty power of the Creator. From whence then could arise the solitary and strange conceit, that the Almighty, who had millions of worlds equally dependent on his protection, should quit the care of all the rest, and come to die in our world, because they say one man and one woman had eaten an apple! And, on the other hand, are we to suppose that every world in the boundless creation, had an Eve, an apple, a serpent, and aredeemer? In this case, the person who is irrever- antly called:the Son of God, and sometimes God himself, T u ESL E TEAS eerie sy ae Cee ee hore tak * : a * . ‘ *. * ee teeee ees ch 1 tee re) eS S3ais48 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. would have nothing else to do than to travel from world to world, in an endless succession of death, with scarcely a momentary interval of life. nm has been Py rejecting the ev idence, that the word or works of God in the creation afford @ our senses, and the action of our reason upon that evidence, that so many wild and whimsical systems of faith, and of religion, have been fabricated and set up. There may be many systems of re- ligion, that so far from being morally bad, are in many respects mora t there can be but ONE that is true ; and that one necessarily must, as it ever will, be in | > ever-existing word of God Pa Bs te coal cea es eoeres orks. But such is the strange con- lly o ood: bu all things ee with that we is hold i struction of the ietachon system of faith, that every evi- dence oie ets afford to man, either directly contradicts it absurd. pad > 4 @ >) o nog wD J It ie ecole to believe, and I ae feel pleasure in encouras ging myself to believe it, that there have been men in the world, who persuade them haha that, what is called a pious fraud, might, at least under particular circumstances, be Bee re of some good. But the fraud being once established, could not afterwards be explair ied; for it 1s with a pious ne as with a bad action, it begets. a calamitous necessity of aad on. The persons who first preached the Christian system of faith, and in some measure combined it with the morality peas by ees Christ, might persuade themselves that it was better than the heathen mythology that then pre- vailed. From a first preachers the fraud went on to the second, and to the third, till the idea of its being a pious fraud became lost in the belief of its being true; and that belief became again encouraged by the interests of those who made a livelihood by preaching o 1th But though such a belief might, by such means, be ren- dered most general among the laity, it is next to impossi- ble to account for the continual persecution carried on by the church, for several hi ndred years, against the sciences, and against the fatale of sciences, if the church had not some record or tradition, that it was originally: no other than a pious fraud, or did not foresee, that it could not be maintained against the evidence that the structure of the universe afforded.PART I.] THE AGE OF REASON. 49 Having thus shown the irreconc lable inconsistencies between the real word of God existi Ing in the universe and that which is called the word of Gi od, as shown to us in a printed book that a any man might make , | proceed to speak of the three Benepe means that have been em? ployed in all ages, and perhaps in all ¢ ountries, to impose upon m kind. : V} eg 1 : ° These three means are Mystery, Miracle, an d Proj yhec The two first are incompati ble with true relic on, and iE third ought alw ays to be suspected. , With respect to mystery, every thing we behold is one sense, a mystery to us. “Our own existence is t the whole vegetable world is a mystery. We canz how it is that an acorn, Ww hen put ‘into the groun d, is made to develop itself, and become an oak. We know not how it is that the seed we sow unfolds and multiplies itself, and re- turns to us such an abundant interest for so. small a capital. The fact, SORE: as tastings from the operating cause, is not a mystery, becau ise we see it; and we know also the means we are to use, which is no other than puttir ig seed in the eround. We bee therefore, as much as is neces- sary for us to know; and that part of the operation that we do not know, and which if we did, we could not perform, the Creator takes upon himself and performs it for us. We are, therefore, better off than if we had been let into the secret, and left to do it for ourselves. But though every created thing is, in this sense, & mys- tery, the word mystery cannot be applied to moral truth, any more than ol bscurity can be app lied t o light. The God in whom we believe is a God of moral truth, and not a God of mystery or obscurity. M lystery is the antagonist of truth. It is a fog of human invention, that obscures trut h, and rep- resents it in distortion. Truth never enve lops itself in mys- tery; and the mystery in which it is at any time enveloped, is the work of its antagonist, and never of itself. Religion, therefore, being the belief of a God, and the practice of oral paths sannot have connection with mys- tery. The Delahe of a God, so far from having anything of mystery in it is of all beliefs the most easy . bec sause It arises to us, as is before observed, out of necessity. And the practice of moral truth, or, in otfer words, a practical imita- 1an- pw bos 4 Se teTt tested} tee Leet eel ae 7. eeee S| : . 7 a i] t sd * ad a cd “+ i] Tita ee ES Sits SE eEs > od be edSd ey ys a 50 THE AGE OF REASON, [PART 1. tion of the moral goodness of God, is no other than our acting toward each other as he acts beni enly toward all. We cannot serve God in the manner we serve those who cannot do without such service; and, therefore, the only idea we can have of serving pele is that of contributing to the happiness of the livir pet eation that God has made. ae cannot be done by retiring Fs ourselves from the socie ty of th world, and oe ding a recluse life in se slfish devotion. I and de sign of religi on, if I may so ex- Ww ba A $9 = ©: cod a »~ press it, prove" even to demonstration, hat it must be free from every thing of mystery, and unine utbeee d with every- thing that is mysterious. Religion, considered as a duty, is incumbent upon every living soul alike, and, therefore, must be on a level to the understanding and com -ehension of all. Man does not learn religion as he learns baa secrets and mysteries of a trade. He learns the theory of religion by reflection. It arises out of the action of his own mind upon the things which he sees, or upon what he may happen to hear or to read, and the practice joins itself thereto. W hen men, whether from policy or pious fraud, set up systems of religion incompatible with the word or works of God in the creati ion, and not only above, but repugnant to h luman comprehension, they were under the necessity of inve nting or adopting a word that should serveas a bar to all questions, inquiries and speculations. The word mystery answered this per POse3 and thus it has happened that reli- gion, which is in an without mystery, has been corrupted into a fc o Asmystery answered all general purposes, miracle followed mal auxiliary. The former served to bewilder } } o puzzle the senses. The one was the ingo, the other the legerdemain. But before going further into this subject, it will be proper to inquire what is to be understood by a miracle. : In the same sense that everything may be said to be a mystery, so also may it be said that everything is @ miracle, and that no one thing is a greater miracle than another. The elep abet: though larger, is not'a greater miracle than a mite; nora sia ries a greater miracle than an atom. To an almig hty power, it is no more dif hieult to ma tke t he one C than the other; and no more difficult to make a million ofPART I. | THE AGE OF REASON. ol Lis oo 1ereic is a miracle In one aS a Ii ] 1 Fi a ‘ 1 : > aS amuracie. it 1s a miracie when Coupon to our power, ana to our compre! lENSION<. 10 1S NOE 2a miracle compared to the power | that pe forms it: but as nothi o 1n this descrip- . } ‘4 iene ye a ge = } tion « COnVeYS tne ide a that is afiixed to the word miracle, it is necessary to carry the inquiry further. hay EN Bip 1 et ee Manki ee have conceived to themselves certain laws. bv 1+ thaw eal] a +79 Fea Ge eas } whi ch what » LNCY Cail Nature IS supposed LO act, and that a miracle is sometning contrary to the operation and effect of zs < * a those 1a VW Dy OUt uniess we KTLOW tne WV hole CxX0CH bb -O1 those ie mga PS J : oo bees a s } i 1} 3 } e Jaws, and Of what are commonly called the powers of nature, ) we are not able to judge whether anything that may appear to us wonderful or miraculous, be within, or be beyond, wr be contrary to, her natural power of acting. The ascension of a man several miles high into the air, would have everything in it that constitute species of air can be A c pe miracle, generate( > COMMON avlMospneriG ir, and-ye to prevent the bailoon, In whicn m peinso? compressed Into aS m: common air that sur- rounds from the human flint, and causing | mth ‘ r X i Bas A Teesa2 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. . ° « 5 a ~~ or ~~ ~ WwW mankind, in giving credit to appearance, under the idea i 5 of there being miracles, are subject to be conti lly imposed upon. i Since then appearances are so capable of deceiving, and things not real lance to things that are, nothing can be more inconsistent than to suppose that the oe hey would make use of means, such as are called miracles, that would subject the person who pe erformed them 7, 17 t} v suspicion of being an imposter, and the person who related them to be suspected of “lying, a the doctrine intended to be supported thereby to be suspected as a 1 4} . {. J : | the modes of ev visene -e that ever were intended to obtain belief to any system or opinion NE TE oo 4 ar Qala | vever successful relig 1iOn has peen gf 1ven, that « of miracle nowever successtu x © . . . the imposit tion may have been, is the most inconsistent Hor, in the first place, never recourse is had to oe Ww, for the purpose of procuring that belief, & yr a miracle, under any idea of the word, is a show.) it implies a lame- ness or wickedness in the doctrine that is Mbyte And in the second place, it is degrading: the Almighty into the character of a showman. playing tricks to amuse and make the people stare and wonder. It is also the most equivocal pore OL €viaence that can p, tor the pdellef 1s not to 1 T d depe 1d Lup on the thing 5 called a miracle, but upon the credit porter who says that he saw it; and, therefore, the thing, were it true, ea have no better chance of being | nif it were a lie. hat, when I sat down to write this lf in the air, took up the pen and herein written: wo I 5 : : uld anybody believe me? Cae. unly tl ey would not. Wo uld they be- lieve me a whit the more if the thi ing had been a fact? Cer- tainly they would not. Since, then, a real miracle, were it to happen, would be subject to the same fate as the false- ac) hood, tne inconsistency becomes the greater of supposing: the Almig hty would make use of means that would not an- swer the purpose for which they were inte: ided, even if they } v were real. If we are to suppose a miracle to be something so enti irely out of the course of what is poace na out of that course to accon ture that she must x0 1 nplish it, and we see an accountPART I. ] THE AGE OF REASON. 53 given of such miracle by the person who said he saw it, it raises a question in the mind ve rye easily decided, which is, is it more probable that nature should o ¢o out of Hes r course, or that a man should tell a lie? We have never seen. in our time, nature go out of her course; but we have x yod reason to beleve that millions of lies have been told in the same time. It is, therefore, at least millions to one that the re- porter of a miracle tells a lie. The story of the wh: ne swallowing Jonah, though a w hale is large enough to do it, k borders ore eatly on the marvelous ; but it would have approached nearer to the idea of cane if Jonah had swallowed the whale. In this, which may serve for all cases of miracles, the matter would decide itself, as before stated—namely, isit more probable that ‘a man gould have swa Auli a whale or told a lie? But suppose that Jonah had really swallowed the whale, and gone i it in his belly to Nineveh, and, to convince, the people that it was true, have cast it up in their sight, of the full length and size of a whale, would they not have believed him to have been the devil, instead of a prophet? or, if the whale had carried Jonah to Nineveh, and: cast him up in the same public manner, would they not have believed the whale to have been the devil, and Jonah one of his imps? The most extraordinary of all the things called miracles related in the New Testament, is that of the devil flying ° 17 7° e 5 uway with Jesus Christ, and carrying him to the top of a high mountain, and to the 0 of the highest pinnacle ‘of the temple, and showing him and promi ing to him all the king- doms of the world. How hi ‘pened it that he did not dis- cover America? or, is it only with kingdoz highness has any interest? I have too much re spect for the moral character of Christ to believe that he told this wl ie “of a miracle himself; neither is it easy to account for what purpose it could have been fabricated, unless it were to impose upon the connois- seurs of miracles, as is sometimes pra icticed upon the con- noisseurs of Queen Anne’s farthings, and collectors of relics and antiquities; or, to render the belief of miracles ridicu- lous by outdoing miracles, as Don Quixote outdid chivalry; or, to embarrass the belief of miracles, by making it doubtful by what power, whether of God or the devil, any- ns that his sooty | — eee ee fe et Ge LT LIS ES ety ea ee Sees a o + * i a bd oa a * i “9 J 5 ad J o * . o * ~ a “a a +* * Tr rv a a a 7 a kD PRL DE Re ee et eredatSP ESSeie a) ae (a. Li aad k's ‘ rs CS ih; wf, f i 54 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. thing called a miracle was performed. It requires, how- ever, a great deal of faith in the devil to believe this frainle. In every pc oint of view in which those things called mira- cles cai he placed and considered, the re eality of them is improbable, and their existence unnece ssary. They would not, as before observed, answer any useful purpose, even if they were true, for it is more difficult to obtain belief to a miracle than to a principle evidently oo without any miracle. Moral panics le spea ks universally for itself. Mira- cle could be but a thing of ae momet it, and seen but by a few. After this, it requir er of faith from God to man to a. a ms ae upon Hen report. Instead, ees. of ar Ee fs ie recitals of miracles as evidence ot any 1 being t true, they ought to be con- } as ee iiatomne. ps ts being me yulous. It 3 1s necessary ull and upright eae of truth that it rejects the crutch; and it is consistent with the character of fable to seek the aid that truth rejects. Thus een for mystery and ~ el © ™M as i co me & he b tH Hy K As mystery and miracle took charge of the ps ast and the present, prophecy took charge of the future, and. rounded the tenses of faith. It was not sl ifficient to icici what had been done, but what would be done. The supposed prophet was the supposed historian of times to come; and if he happened in shooting with a long bow of a thousand years to strike within a thousand miles of a ae the inge snuity of posterity could make it point’ blank; and f he happe sned to be dire ctly wrong, it was only to nines as in the ease of Jonah and Nine eh, that-God had repented himself and changed his mind. What a fool do fabulous systems make of man! It has been shown, in a former part of this work, that the original meaning of the words proph t and prophesying has been changed, and that a prophet, in the sense of the word as NOW used, is a creature of modern inve! ition; and it is owing to this change i. the meaning of the words, that the fihts and metaphors of the Jewish poets, and phrases and expressions now rendered obscure by our not being acquainted with the local circumstances to which they ap- plied at the time they were used, have been erected into prophecies, and made to bend to explanations, at the willPART 1. | THE AGH OF REASON. 55 and whimsical conceits of sect aries, expounders and com- mentators. Everything unintelligib le was prophetical, and everything insignific cant was typical. A blunder would have served as a prophecy, and a dish-clout for a type. : If bya prophet we are to Suppose a man to whom the Almis ghty communicated some eveit that would take ples in future, either there were such men, or there were not, If there were, it is consistent to believe that the event so communicated would be told in terms that could be under- stood, and not related in such a loose and,obscure manner as to be out of the comprehensions of those that heard it. and so eas ie as to fit alee any circumstance that axl O1¢ might happen afterwards. It is conceivine verv irrever- ently of the Almig rhty to suppose he would deal in this jesting manner vith mankind; yet all the things called prophecies in ites book called the Bible come under this description. But it is with prophecy as it is with miracle: it could not answer the purpose, even if it were real. Those to whom a prophecy should be ee could not tell whether the man prophesied or lied, or whether it had been revealed to him, or whether he conc cited ie and, if the thing that he prophe- sied, or intended to prophesy, should happen, or something like it, among the multitude of things that are daily hap- pening, nobody could again know whether he foreknew it or guessed at it, or whether it was acci - ntal. A prophet, there- fore, is a character useless and unnecessary; a the s safe side of the case is to guard against being ‘imposed upon, by not giving credit to such relations. ; Upon the whole, myste1 TY miracle and prophecy are ap- pendages s that belong to fabulous, and not to true religion. They are the means by which so many Zo heres! and Lo theres { have been spread about the world, and religion been made into a trad 1ccess of one imposter gave encouragement to another, and the quieting salvo of doing some good by keeping up a pious Jraud protected them from remorse. laving now extended the su bject to a greater length than I first intende d, I shal PENS it to a close by abstracting a summary from the who First—That the idea or belief of a word of God existing e. ine su c j Li : i€ € in print, or in writing, or in speech, is inconsistent in inself, a a a a ® a * a Pa A “ “ oy a i] aa . * * * S * °4 a * * e a Cd » ef ~ al * id ° ODE Eri se Tere ater reer he and Ae PD56 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART 1. for reasons already assigned. These reasons, among dad others, are the want of an universal | language; the mutabil ity of language; the errors to which translations are subject; the possibility of totally suppre ssing such a word; the e prob- ability of altering it, or of fal oricating the whole, wide 1mpos- ing it upon the world. Second] eae the Creation we cee is the real and ever-existing word of God, in which we cannot be deceived. It proclaims ; his power, it de monstrates his wisdom, it mani- fests his goodness and beneficence Thirdly—That the moral duty on man consists in imitat- ing the moral goodness and beneficence of God manifested in the creation towards all his creatures; that, see ing, as we daily do, the goodness of God to all men, 64 is an example calling upon all men to: practice the same towards each oth ler; and, consequently, th at everything of persec ution and revenge between man and man a everything of cruelty to animals, is a violation of moral duty I trouble not myself about the manner of future exist- ence. I content myself with believing, even to positive con- viction, that the power that gave me existence is able to continue it, in any form and manner he pleases, either with or without this body; and it appears more prob able to me that I ay continue to exist hereafter than that J] should have had existence, as I now have, before that exist- ence ee It is certain that, in one point, all nations of the earth and all religions agree: all believein a God. The things in which they disa gree are the redundancies annexed to that belief: and, therefore, if ever a universal relicion should yrevail, it will not be believin: YT g anything new, but in gettir ng rid of re- dundancies, and believing as man believed at first. Adam, if ever there was such:a man. was created a Deist; but, in the meantime, lét.e very man follow, as he has a right to do, the religion and the worship he prefers,Ee AC Fe I have mentioned in the former part of Zhe Age of Rea- son, that it had lor ng been my intention to publish my ut : had originally 1 ‘eserved 1 thoughts upon relig rion ‘ but: th: it to a later pe riod in life, intending it to be the last work I ee undertake. The circumstances, however, which existed in France in the later end of the year 1793, deter- mined me to delay it no longe ies ae just and humane prin- ciples of the revolution whic 1 philosophy had first diffused, had Basis depart ed from. TI! 1e idea, always dangerous to society as it is derogatory to the Almighty, t that priests could forgive sins, though it seemed to exist no longer, had blunted the feelings of humani ity, and prepared men for the commis- sion of all manner of crimes. The intolerant spirit of church persecutions had transferred itself into politics; the tribunal, styled revolutionary, supplied the place of an inquisition; and the guillotine and t the stake outdid the fire and the fag- got of the church. [I saw many of my most intimate friends destroyed ; others daily earried to prison; and I had reason to believe, and had also intimations given me, that the same + t danger was approaching myself. Under these disadvantages, I began the former part of the Age of Mreason; I ha d, besides, neither Bible nor Testa- ment to refer to, though I was writing against both; nor could | progure any} notwithstanding which I have produced a work that no Bible-believer, though writing at his ease, and with a library of church books "about him, ean refute. Towards the latter end of December of that year, a motion was made and carried, to exclude foreigners from the con- vention. There were but two in it, Anacl harsis Cloots and myself; and I saw I was particularly pointed at by Bourdon de Oise, 3 in his speech on that motion, Conceiving, after this, that IT had but @ few days of = 67 ete Crete eh Trey | 4 os * % ’ ~ * 5 ~ “ a) a “TU LS SE Sere este feeodede a nie p ay ro Sevtrsie ores Pe5&8 PREFAOE. erty, I sat down and brought the work to a close as speedily as possible; and I had not finished it’ more than six hours, in the state it has since appeared, before a guard came there about three in the mornin g, with an order signed | by the two committees of public safety and Surety-General, for putting me in arrestation as a foreigner, and conveye >d me to the prison of the Luxembourg. I contrived, in my way there, to call on Joel Barlow, ma I put the manuscript of the work into his hands, as more s safe than in my possession in prison ; and not knowing what might be the fate in France either of the writer or the wor k, I addressed it to the protec- tion of the citizens of the United States. It is with justice that I say that the guard who executed this order, and the interpreter of the Committee of General Surety, who accompanied them to examine my papers, treated me not only with civility, but with respec The keeper of the Luxembourg, Be nnoit, a man of aed ae art, showed to me every friendship i in his power, as did also hi is family, while he continued in that station. He was removed from it, put into ee age and carried before the tribunal upon a ma- lignant accusation, but acquitted. en had Bees in the Luxembourg about three weeks, the Americans, then in P aris, went ina body to the conv ention, to reclaim me as their countryman and gree but were answered by the President, Vader, who was also President of the Committee of Suret y-General, and had signed the order for my arrestation, that I was heal in England. I heard no more, after this, fon any person out of the walls of the prison, til the fall of Robespi ierre, on the 9th of Thermidor —July 27, 1794. es a months before this event, I was seized with a fever, that in its progress had every symptom of becoming mortal, and from the effects of which I am not recovered. It was then that I remembered with renewed satis! action, and congratulated myself eo sinc erely on having witien the former part of The . Age of Reason. I had then but utile expectation of surviving, and those about me had'less. I know, therefore, by experience, the conscientious trial of ay nats principles. I was then with three chamber comrades, Joseph Van- heule, of Bruges, Charles Bastini, and Mi ehael oe of hain: The unceasing and anxious attention of HeesPREFAOR. 59 three friends to me by night and by day, I remember with gratitude, and mention with pleasure. It hap] ye pee that a physician (Dr. eee and a surgeon, (Mr. Beni d,) part of the sue < of General O’Har ra, were then in the JI. ux- a pi an embourg. I ask not myself, eiece it be convenient to them, as men under the E nglish government, That I express to them my tha aes: but. | should reproach myself if I did not: and also to he physician of the Luxembourg, Dr. Markoski. I have some reason to believe, because I cannot discover any other cause, that 1 this illness preserved me in existence. Among the papers of R obespierre that were exami ined and reported upon to the Convention, ey a Committee of Depu- ties, is a note in the hand-writi ng of Robespierre, in the following words: c “Demander que Thomas Paine soit To demand that a decree of accusa- decrete d’accusation, pour l’interet de tion be passed against Thomas Paine lPAmerique autant que ‘de la France.” for the interest of America, as well as of France, F'rom what cause it was that the intention was not put in execution, I know not and cannot inform myself; and therefore I ascribe it to impossibility, on account of that illness. The Convention, to repair as much as lay in their power the injustice I fa sustained, invited me publicly and unani- mously to return into the Conve ntion, and which | accepted, to show that I could bear an in jury without permitting it to injure my principles or my disposition. It is not bec ause rioht principles have been violated, that they are to be sidcticd: I have seen, since I have been at liberty, several publica- tions written, some in America, and some in England, as answers to the former part of “’ The Age of Reason.’ pe the authors of these can amuse themselves by so doing, I shall not interrupt them. They may write against the work, and against me,as much as they ple ease; they do me more service ia they intend, and I can have no ob] ection that they write on. They will find, however, by thie second part, without its being written as an answer to them, that they must return to their work, and spin their cobweb over again. The first is brushed away by accident. They will now find that I have furnished myself witha Bible and a Testament; and I can say also that I have found A * - a is 0 a Ps “a et a . a ‘ ad _ . J . . + = a 7 > es $i sl * al . a r ACCS ore er ee) Stasigaga Th s2isesereee60 PREFACE. them to be much worse books than I had conceived. If I have erred 1 al hing, in the former part of “The Age of Reason,” it s been by peaking better of some parts of those Se oks than they have deserved. observe that : y opponents resort more or less, to Script Evidence and Bible authority, to so little masters ea e Subject, as to authen 53 y 1 a dispute about 10Wever, put them pte that if they sed to write any more, they may know how THOMAS PAINE. October, 1798.PART SECOND. It has often been said, that anything may be proved from the Bible, but before anything can be admitted as proved by the Bible, the Bible itself must be proved to be true; for if the Bible be not true, or the truth of it be doubtful, it ceases to have authority, and cannot be admitted as proof of anything. It has been the practice of all Christian commentators on the Bible, and of all Christian priests and preachers, to impose the Bible on the world as a mass of truth, and as the word of God ; they have disputed and wrangled and anathe- matized each other about the supposable meaning of particu- lar parts and passages therein ; one has said and insisted that such a passage meant such a thing ; another that it meant directly the contrary; and a third, that it means neither one nor the other, but something different from both ; and this they call wnderstanding the Bible. It has happened, that all the answers which I have seen to the former part of the Age of Reason have been written by priests; and these pious men like their predecessors, contend and wrangle, and pretend to understand the Bible; each understands it differently, but each understands it best; and they have agreed in nothing, butin telling their readers that Thomas Paine understands it not. Now instead of wasting their time, and heating themselves in fractious disputations about doctrinal points drawn from the Bible, these men ought to know, and if they do not, it is civility to inform them, that the first thing to be understood is, whether there is sufficient authority for believing the Bible to be the word of God, or whether there is not. There are matters in that book, said to be done by the 61 ELD ST aT Er ire rere ry) : a ° be > oe D ry ~ “ = aad > aah i tedeseeeeze sfrerdote reeks ta20d62 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART Ir. 4a express command of God, that are as shocking to humanity, and to every idea we have of moral justice 2, as anything done by Robespierre, by Carrier, by Jose ph le Bon, in France, by the E English government in the East Indies, or by any cules assassin in modern times. When we read in ie books ascribed to Moses, Joshua, etc., that they (the Israel- ites) came by stealth upon whole nations of people, who, as the history itself shows, had given them no offense ; that they put all those nations to -the sword; that they spared neither age nor infancy ; that they utterly destr oyed men, women and children ; that they left not a soul to breathe; expressions that are repeated over and over again in those books, and that too with exulting ferocity ; are we sure these nape are facts? Are we sure that the Creator of man oo sioned these things to be done? Are we sure that the books that tell us so were written by his authority? It is not the antiquity of a tale that is any evidence of its truth ; on the contrary, it is a symptom of its being fabu- lous ; for the more ancient any history pretends to be, the more it has the resemblance of a fable. The origin of every nation is buried in fabulous tradition, and that of the Jews is as much to be suspected as any other. To charge the commission of acts upon the Almighty, which in their own nature, and by every rule of moral justice, are crimes as all assassination is, and more especially the assassination of infants, 1s matter of serious concern. The Bible tells us, that those assassinations were done by the express command of God. To believe, therefore, the Bible to be true, we must wunbelieve all our belief in the moral justice of God; for wherein could crying or smiling infants offend? And to read the Bible without horr or, we must undo everything that is tender, s symp yathizing, ae benevolent in the heart of man. Speaking for my self, if I had no other evidence that the Bible was fabulous, than the sacrifice I must make to believe it to be true, that alone would be sufficient to deter- mine my choice. But in addition to all the moral evidence against the Bible - I will in the progress of this work produce such oth- er evidence, as even a priest cannot deny ; and show, from that evidence, that the Bible is not entitled to credit, as being the nana of God. But, before I proceed to this examination, I will showPART If. THE AGE OF REASON. 63 wherein the Bible differs from all other ancient writ ngs with respect to the nature of the evidence necessary to ~~ lish Mae establish its authentic ty ; and this is more proper to be done, because the advocates of the Bible, i in shoe answers o the former part of the Age of Reason, undertake to say, na — ky the Bible is as well esta Book's ; as if our belief o our belief of the other. I know, however, but of one ancient book that authorita- tively challenges universal consent and belief, and that is Euclid’ s Eleme 27S of Geome Clry , “EF and the reason is. bec: ause it is a book of self-evident demonstration, ent tirely inc lepen- dent of its author, and of ev erything relating x to time, , place and circumstance. The matters contained. in that book would have the same auth iority they now have, had they been written by any other person, or had the work been anonymous, or had the author 1ever been known ; for the identical certaint ty of who was the author, makes no part of our belief of the matters contain Sa | In the book. But it is quite otherwise with respect to books ascribed to Moses, to Joshua, to Samuel, &. Those are books o of testimony, and they testi! fy of things naturally incredible : ; and, therefore, the whole of our belief, as to the au thenticit ty of those 6 rests, in the first place, upon the certainty that they vere written by Moses, Jos! lua, and Samuel ; secondly, upon the credit we give 6 their testimony. We may believe the first, that is, we m: ay believe the ce rtainty of the author- ship, and yet not the testime ony, in the same manner that we may believe that a certain person gave evidence upon a case and yet not believe the e videnca. that he gave. But if it should be found, that the books ascribed to Moses, Joshua, and Samuel, were not written by Moses, Jos! sine a Samuel. every part of the authority and authenticity those books is gone at once; for there can be no such things as forged or invented testimony ; ; neither can there be anonymous testi: mony, more especi ially as to things nat- urally incredible iol as that of talking with God face to face, or that of the sun and moon standing still at the Behan eo Thee 1isned as that of any other anc ient the one could become any rule f * Euclid, according to chronological history, lived three hundred years before Christ, an d about one hundred before Archimedes; he was of the city of Alexan- Gria, in Egypt. they put some stress thereon, that ee authenticity of A al a al ; 7 LJ aa 3 > : . . ‘ F ti - a er b » ; : ad 4 dis EPSRC ST eres eS Ere eT ee tr te eee * S Pee ees Lhd oa64 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART LI, command of a man. The greater part of the other ancient books are works of genius ; of which kind are those ascribed to Homer, to Plato, to Aristotle, to Demosthenes, to Cicero, &. Here again the author is not essential in the credit we give to any of those works; for, as works of genius, they would have the same merit they have now, were they anonymous. Nobody believes the Trojan story, as related by Homer, to be true, for it is the poet only that is admired ; and the merit of the poet will remain, though the story be fabulous. But, if we disbelieve the matters related by the Bible authors, (Moses for instance,) as we dis- believe the things related by Homer, there remains nothing of Moses, in our estimation, but an imposter. As to the ancient historians, from Herodotus to Tacitus, we credit them as far as they relate things probable and credibie, and no further ; for, if we do, we must believe the two miracles which Tacitus relates were performed by Vespasian—that of curing a lame man, and a blind man, in just the same manner as the same things are told of Jesus Christ by his historians. We must also believe the miracles cited by Josephus—that of the sea of Pamphilia opening to let Alexander and his army pass, as is related of the Red Sea in Hxodus. These miracles are quite as well authenticated as the Bible miracles, and yet we do not believe them ; con- sequently the degree of evidence necessary to establish our beef of things naturally incredible, whether in the Bible or elsewhere, is far greater than that which obtains our belief to natural and probable things ; and, therefore, the advocates for the Bible have no claim to our belief of the Bible, because that we believe things stated in other ancient writings; since we believe the things stated in these writings no further than they are probable and credible, or because they are self-evident, like Euclid ; or admire them because they are elegant, like Homer; or approve them because they are sedate, like Plato ; or judicious, like Aristotle. daving premised these things, I proceed to examine the authenticity of the Bible, and I begin with what are called the five books of Moses, Genesis, Exod us, Leviticus, Num- bers, and Deuteronomy. My intention is to show that those books are spurious, and that Moses is not the author of them ; and still further, that t time of Moses, nor till several } + i 1ey were not written in the hundred years afterwards ;PART I1.] THE AGE OF REASON. 65 that they are no other aan an attempted history of the Tot . : life of Moses, and of the time in which he is said to have 1s lived, and also of the times prior ther eto, written by some very ignorant and stupid pre tende rs to authorship, several hundred years after the death of Moses 3, 2S Men now write histories of things t that hay opened, or are supposed to have happened, several hun: dred or several thx oe years ago. The e ores that I shall produce in this case is from the books teteelves and I will confine myself to this evidence only. Were I to refer for proof to any of the ancient authors whom t he advocates of the Bible call profane ees they would controvert that autl hority as I controvert theirs I will, Begre fore, meet them on their own ground, and on none them with their own we apon, the Bible. ee In the first place, there i no affirmative evic ence that Moses i is the author of those books; and that he is the author is altogether an unfounded opinion, got abroa 1 nobody ly knows how. Pha e style and manner in w! hick those books are writ- ten give no room to be lieve, or even to aURDOSS they were written by Moses; for it is altogether the style and manner a another person speaking of “Moses. In Hxodus, Leviti- cus and Numbers, (for evi srything j in Genesis is prior to the times of Moses, and not the least allusion is made to him therein,) the whole, I say, of these books is in the third per- son; it is always, the Lord said unto M. ses, or Moses said unto the Lord; or Moses said unto the people, or the people said unto Moses; and this is the style and manner that, his- torians use in speaki } ] at last closes the scene with an account ae the deat th, Bilis oral and character of Moses. This interchange > of speakers occurs four times in this Cm ry Se V2 oF ie ty book: from the first verse of the first chapter to the end of ; he then introduces Moses as in the act of making his harangue, and this con- f the fourth chapter; tinues to the end of the fortieth verse of OT L the fifth verse it is a writer who speaks; here the writer drops Moses, and speaks historically of what was done in con ne ence of what Moses, when living, is sup- posed to have said, and which he writer has dramatically rehearsed. The writer opens the subject again in the first verse of the fifth chapter, t though it is only by saying that Moses called the people of Israel together; he then introduces Moses as before, and Conanee him, as in the act of speak- ing, to the end of the 26th chapter. He does the same thing at the beginning of the 27th chapter; and continues Moses 5, as in the act of speaking, to the end of the 28th chapter. At the 29th chapter the writer speaks again, through the whole of the first verse and the first line of the second verse, where he introduces Moses for the last time, and continues him, as in the act of speaking, to the end of the 33d chapter. The writer having now finished the rehearsal on the part of ee, comes forward and speaks through the whole of the last chapter. He begins by telling the reader that Moses went up to the top of Pisgah; that he saw from thence the land which (the writer says) had been promised to Abraham,PART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 67 ele aa ae te tei oe y . iy 7 ‘ Isaac and Jacob; that he, Moses, died there, in the land of Aicdah. haan. ule, Ge j : Moab, but that no man knoweth of his sepul Icher unto this day—that is, unto the time in which the writer live 2d who 5 wrote the book of Deuteronomy. The writer then tells us that Moses was 110 years of age when he died: that his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated; and he concludes by saying that there arose not a prophet simce in Israel like Ss ing toe ae Nis. ~ at os 5 eg . Cp = unto Moses, whom, says this anonymous writer, the Lord knew face to face. Having thus shown, as far as grammatical evidence Ae apples, that Mos seS was not the writer a those eae Tt will, after making a a observations on the inconsistencies a the writer of the in of Deute ronomy, aaa d to show, ie from the rene ul and chronological evidence contained in those books, that Moses, was not, because he could not be, the writer of them; and conse iently, that there is no none for be : evi ng; that the inhuma i and horrid butch- hile poe told in those books, were a : x Pe KS Say ti one. as he DOO ley were, at the command of God. It a duty incumbent on very true Deist, that he vindicate the moral justice of Go i a gainst the calumnies of the Bible. The writer of the book of Deuteronomy, whoey was, (for it is an anon ymous work,) is obscure, and also i a © pad ~~ © Pes bee’ contradiction with himself, in the cone he has giv Moses. After telling that Moses went to the top of Pisgah (and it does not appear from any a recount that he ever came down again) he te sls us, that Moses died there in the land of Moab, and that he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab; but as there is no antecedent to the pronoun he, there is no knowing who he was that did bury him. If the writer meant that he (Gor d) buried him, how should he (the wri iter) know it? or vie should we (the readers) believe him? since we know not who the writer was that tells us so, for certainly Moses could not himself tell where he was buried. The writer also tells us, that no man knoweth where the sepulcher of Moses is unto this day, meaning the time in which this writer lived; howthen should he know that Moses was buried in a valley in the land of Moab? for as the writer lived long after the time of Mc ses, aS is evident from his using the expression of unto this day, meaning a great length of time after the death of Moses, he certainly was not at his 1 i t eet err er re) Spasadajpag Sldtaserrerst<64 * * * a a . ‘ ‘ 7 7 . * . * 2) Al - > CS ca ' "$e?ie 68 THE AGE OF REASON, [PART I. funeral; and on the other hand, it is impossible that Moses himself could say, that no man knoweth where the sepulcher is unto this duy. To make Moses the speaker would be an improvement on the play of a child that hides himself and cries, Vobody can find me; nobody can find Moses. This writer has nowhere told us how he came by the speeches which he has put into the mouth of Moses to speak, and, therefore, we have a right to conclude, that he either composed them himself, or wrote them from oral tradition. One or the other of these is the more probable, since he has given, in the fifth chapter, a table of commandments, in which that called the fourth commandment is different from the fourth commandment in the twentieth chapter of Exodus. In that of Exodus, the reason given for keeping the seventh day is, “because (says the commandment) God made the heavens and earth in six days, and rested on the se renth;” but in that of Deuteronomy, the reason given is, that it. was the day on which the children of Isral came out of Egypt, and therefore, says this commandment, the Lord thy God commanded thee to keep the sabbath-day. This makes no mention of the creation, nor that of the coming out of Egypt. Ce There are also many things given as laws of Moses in this book, that are not to be’ found in any of the other books; among which is that inhuman and brutal law, chap. xxi. ver. 18, 19, 20, 21, which authorizes parents, the father and the mother, to bring their own children to have them stoned to death for what it is pleased to call stubbornness. But priests have always been fond of preaching up Deuteronomy, for Deuteronomy preaches u p tithes; and it is from this book, chap. xxv. ver. 4, they have taken the phrase, and applied it to tithing, that thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn; and that this micht not escape observation, they have noted it in the table of contents at the head of the chapter, though it is only a single verse of less than two lines. O! priests! priests! ye are willing to be compared to an ox, for the sake of tithes. Though it is impossible for us to know identically who the writer of Deuteronomy was, it is not difficult to discover him professionally, that he was some Jewish priest, who lived, as I shall show in the course of this work, at least three hundred and fifty years after the time of Moses. I come now to speak of the historical and chronologicalPART II. | THE AGE OF REASON, 69 evidence. The chronology that I shall use is the Bible chronology; for I mean not to go out of the Bible for evidence of anything, but to make the Bible itself prove historically and chronologically, that Moses is not the author of the books ascribed to him. It is, therefore, proper that I inform the r 2ader, (suc ‘+h an one at least as may not have the Ope rtunity ae knowing it,) that in the larger Bibles, and also in some smaller ‘ones, there is a series of chronology printed in the margin of every page, for the purpose of showing how long the historical matters stated in each page happened, or are Supe to have hap- pened, before Christ, and, conse quently, the distance of time between one historical circumstance and another. I began with the book of Genesis. In the 14th chapter of Genesis, the writer gives an account of Lot being taken prisoner in a battle between the four kings against fiv e, and carried off; and that when the account of Lot being taken came to Abraham, he armed all his household and arched to rescue Lot from the captors; and that he pursued them unto Dan. (ver. 14.) To show in what manner this expression of pursuing them unto Dan applies to the case in question, I will refer to two circumstances, the one in America, the other in France. The city now called New Yor k,in America, was originally New Amsterdam; and the town in France, lately called Havre Marat, was before called H d Havre de Grac e. New Amsterdam was changed to New York in the year 1664; Havre de Grace to Havre Marat in 1793. Should, therefore, any writing be found, though without date, in which the name of New York should be mentioned, it oala be certain evidence that such a writing could not have been written before, and must have been written after New Amsterdam was changed to New York, and consequently not till after the year 1664, or at least during the course of that year. And, in Jike manner, any di ateles ss writing, with the name of Havre Marat, would be certain evidence that such a writing must have been written after Havre de Grace became Havre Marat, and consequently not till after the year 1793, or at least during the course of that year. I now come to the applies tion of those cases, and to show that there was no such place as Dan, till many years after the death of Moses; and, consequently, t that Moses could “¥t te bae+e ozs ee ere as cierare yy. c “ * ee id A s e Ps “ we a] tS heStimie . . “sz° be eh te poe tes70 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART II. not be the writer of the book of Genesis, where this account of pur rsuing them unto Yan is given. The place that is called Dan i in the Bible was cngmally a ‘ town of the Gent iles, called Lais h; and when the tribe of Dan eae upon this town, th ey ¢ Woe its name to Dan, —qWI in con rat of Dan, who was the father of that fe and the g1 ee grandson of Abraham. To establish this in proof, it is necessary to refer from Genesis to the 18th chapter of the book called the Book of Judges. It is there said (ver. 27) that they (the Danites) (Oa Dp eopte that were quiet and secure, and they smote them with she edge of the sword (the Bible is filled with murder) and burned the city with j fire , > and they built a city, (ver : 28,) and dwelt therein, and they called the name of the city L an, GY fier the name of Dan, t their father, howbeit the name of the city was Laish at the first. co ee ~ S oo. 52} ry . This account of the Danites ae posse ssion of Laish : : - 4 = ois Ss ee bes | ce aw and changing it to Dan, is placed in the Book of Judges im- ] Sea es Le ee PRON a mediately aiter the Qodadwull Ol aL SO, Te ne de: at h of Sam- ot oS dian oe pe Daan 119 cag nned ete 4 son is said to have happened 1120 years before Chae and that of Moses 1451 before Christ, and, therefore, according to the historical arrangement, the place was not called Dan till 331 years after the death of Moses. There is a striking confusion between the historical and the chronological arrangement in the Book of Judges. The a last, chapters, as they stand in the book, 17, 18, 19, 20, ~1, are put chronologically before all the preceding chapters they are made to be 28 years before the 16th chapter, 266 before the 1] oth, 245 before the 13th, 195 before the 9th, 90 before the 4th, ang 15 years before ae first chapter. This shows the uncertain and fabulous state of the Bible. Ac- cording to the chronological arrangement, the taking of Laish and giving 1t t the death of Joshua, who was the su ‘cessor of Moses; ane by the historical order as it stands in the book, it is Gaate to be nae years after the death of Joshua, and 331 after that of Mos pes but they both exclude Moses from being the writer of Genesis because , according to emne ar of the state ments, no such pine as Dan existed in the time of Moses therefore, the writer of Genesis must an been some yerson who lived after oe town of Laish had the name of Jan ; and who that person was nobody knows; and con- the name of Dan, is made to be 20 years after le v vy we2A YT 7} PART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. (1 sequently the Book of Genesis is anonymous and without authority. ft pyro ceed now to state another point of historical and chronological evidence, and to show therefrom, as in the preceding case, that Moses is not the author of the Book of wene sis. | mn +} QA+1 he re G2 Sh Ee | in the 36th chapter of Genesis there is given a genealogy ea ; S is ate of the sons and descendants of Esau, who are called Edom- ites, and also a lis st, by name, of the kings of Edom; in enu- merating of which, it is said, verse 31, “And these are the kings that reigned in _Lidom, before there reigned any king over the children of Israel.” Now, were any dateless writings to be found, in which, speaking of any past events, the writer should say, these ering happen ed before there was any Congress in America, or before there was any Convention in France; it would be evidence that such writings could not have been written before, and could only be written after there was a Congress in America, or a Convention in France, as the case might be ; and, consequently, that it could not be written by any person who died before there was a Congress in the one coun- try, or a Convention in the other. Nothing is more frequent, as well in history as in conver- sation, than to refer to a fact in the room of a date: it is most natural so to do, because a fact fixes itselfin the mem- ory better than a date ; secondly, because the fact includes the date, and serves to excite two ideas at once; and this manner of speaking by circumstar ie. implies as positively that the fact alluded to is past, as if it was so oxpresse dd. When a person speaking upon any matter, says, It was before I was married, o r before my son was born, or before I went to America, or before I went to France, it is absolute- ly understood, and ended to be understood, that he has been married, that. he has had a son, that he has been in America, or been in France. Language does not admit of using this mode of expres ssion in any other sense; and wheneyer such an expression is found any where, it can only be understood in the sense in which only it could have been used. The passage, therefore, that I have quoted—“ that these are the kings that reigned in Edom, before there reigned any king over the children of Israel,” could only have been 3 er etter ike rs ere sree? feet Peo *qeerge besetsess SPreesese Porter ty err e SSSPLITE ee ryG2 THE AGE OF REASON [PART I. written after the first king began to reign over them m ; and, consequently, that the Book of Conese’ so far from | having been written by Moses, could not have been written till the time of Saul at least. This is the positiv e sense of the pas- sage 3 but the expression, any king implies more ki ings than one, at least it im] olies two, and this will carry it to the time of David; and, taken in a general sense, it carries itself through all the uae of the oon mona rehy. Had we met with this verse in any part of the Bible that professed to have been written after kings began to relgn in Israel, it would have ee impossible not to "have seen the application of it. It happens then that this is the case ; the two books of Chroni icles, which gave a history of all the kings of Israel, are ee as well as in fact, written after the Jewish monarch 1y began; and this verse tht I have ais ‘ quoted, and all the 1 sOuee pena of the 36th chapter of Genesis, are, word for word. in the first chapter of Chronicles, beginning oF the 43d verse It was with consistency tne the writer of the Chronicles could say, as he has said, Ist Chron. char p. 1. ver. 43, These are the kings that reign ned in Edom, before there reigned any king over the children of Israel, becande he was going to give bate has given, : list of the kings that had reigned a > in Tats ; but as it is fe possible that the same expression aiviiek Heeb been used before that period, it is as certain as anything can be proved from historical language, that this part of Genesis is taken from Chronicles and that Genesis is not so old as Chronicle s, and probably not so old as the book of Homer, or as Auso p's Fables admitting Homer to have been, as the tables of chrono logy state, conte mporary with David or Solomon, and AXsop to have lived about the end of the Jewish mona chy. Take away whe Genesis the belief that Moses was the author, on which only he Strange belief that it is the word of God has s bgod. and there remains nics ino of Genesis but 2 \ an anonymous book of stories, fables, and tr raditionary or invented absurdities S, or of downright lies. The story of ie and the serpent, and of Noah and his ark, dri ops to a level with the Arahat Tales, without the merit of being entertaining ; and the account of men living to eight and uine hundred years becomes as fabulous as the immortality 6f the giants of the Mythology.PART II. ] THE AGE OF REASON. 13 Besid les, the character of Moses, as stated in the Bi ible, is the most horrid that can be imagined. If those accounts "he true, he was the wretch that first pegs an and carried on wars on the score, or on the pretense, of "religion : and under that mask, or that infatuation, committed the most 1 unexampled atrocities that are to be found in the history of any nation, of which I will state ony one instance. ; When the Jewish army returned from one of their mur- dering and plundering excursions, the account goes on as follow S, Numbers, chap. xxxi. ver 30 “And Moses, and Hleazer the priest, and all the princes of the congregation, went forth to meet them without the camp; and Moses was wroth with the officers of the host, with the captains over thou sands, and captains over hun- dreds, which came from the battle ; and Moses said unto them, Have ye saved all the women alive? behold, these caused the children of Israel, through the council of Balaam, to commit trespass against the Lord, in the matter of Peor, and there was a plague among the congregation of the Lord. Now, therefore, £id/ every male among the little ones, and kill every woman that hath known aman by lying with him; but all the women-children that have not known a man by lying with him keep alive for yourselves. Among the detestable villains that in any period of the world have disgraced the name of man, i is impossible to find a greater than Moses, if this account be true. Here is an order to butcher the boys, t to massacre the mothers, and debauch the daughters. Let any mother put herself in the sitt 1ation of those mothers ; one child murdered, another destined to violation, and herself in the ha nds of an ts ee ; let any dat ugh- ter put herself in the situation of those daughters, destined as a prey to the murderers of a mother and a brother, and what will be their feelings? It is in vain that we attempt to impose upon nature, for nature will haye her course, and the religion that tortures all her social ties is a false reli- ion. After this detestable ie follows an account of the plunder taken, and the manner of dividing it; and here it is that the profaneness of oe hypocrisy ee the om . XT 6 j a php 79 ain; r catalogue of crimes. Verse 87, “ And the Lora’s tribute of the sheep was six hundred and three score and fifteen ; and abet ore Litt treet ity eee ee bes eee 'goeret igdabseoess sPeSesedy oe Pee eed art astiesT4 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART Il. the beeves was thirty and six thousand, of which the Lord’s tribute was threescore and twelve; and the asses were thirty thousand, of which the Lord’s tribute was three- score and one; and the persons were thirty thousand, of which the Lord’s tribute was thirty and two.” In short, the matters contained in this chapter, as well as in many other parts of the Bible, are too horrid for humanity to read, or for decency to hear ; for it appears, from the 35th verse of this chapter, that the number of women-children consigned to debauchery by the order of Moses was thirty-two thou- sand. People in general know not what wickedness there is in this pretended word of God. Brought up in habits of super- stition, they take it for granted that the Bible is true, and that it is good; they permit themselves not to doubt of it, and they carry the ideas they form of the benevolence of the Almighty to the book which they have’ been taught to believe was written by his authority. Good heavens! it is quite another thing; it is a book of lies, wickedness, and blasphemy ; for what can be greater blasphemy, than to ascribe the wickedness of man to the orders of the Al- mighty? But to return to my subject, that of showing that Moses is not the author of the books ascribed to him, and that the Bible is spurious. The two instances I have already given would be sufficient, without any additional evidence, to in- validate the authenticity of any book that pretended to be four or five hundred years more ancient than the matters it speaks of, or refers to, as facts ; for in the case of pursuing them unto Dan, and of the kings that reigned over the chil- dren of Israel, not even the flimsy pretense of prophecy can be pleaded. The expressions are in the preter tense, and it would be downright idiotism to say that a man could prophesy in the preter tense. But there are many other passages scattered throughout those books that unite in the same point of evidence. It is said in Exodus, (another of the books ascribed to Moses,) chap. xvi., verse 34, “ And the children of Israel did eat man- na until they came to a land inhubited ; they did eat manna until they came unto the borders of the land ef Canaan. Whether the children of Israel ate manna or not, or what manna was, or whether it was anything more than a kind of ¢ b a] = y° +1 APART II.] THE AGE OF REASON, T5 fungus or small mushroom, or other vegetable substance common to that pa rh ot the country, makes not thing to ay argument; all that I mean to show is, that it is not Moses that ta write this S account, because tie account ext ends itself beyond the life and time of Moses. oe ses, according to the Bible, (but it is such a book of lies and con ntradic ‘tions there is no k nowing which part to believe, or whether anv ,) dies in the wild rness, and never came up yon the borders of the land of anaan 3 and, consequently, it could not be he that said wl mle the children of Israel] did, or what they ate when they came there. This account of eating manna, which the ov ell us was written by Moses, extends itself to the time of oshua, the successor of és eS, aS appears by the account iven in the book of Joshua, after the ch dren of Israel had passed the river Jordan, and came unto th 1e borders of the nue of Canaan. Toshiva. chap. v. verse 12. “And the man- z ceased on the morrow, after they had eaten of the old corn of the land ; neither had the chi lanes n of Israel manna any more, but they did eat of the fruit of the land of Canaan that year.” 3ut a more remarkable instance than this occurs in Deu- teronomy ; which, while it shows that Moses could not be the writer of that book, shows also the fabulous notions that prevailed at that time about giants. In the third chapter of Deute eronomy, among the conquests said i be made by Moses, is an account of the taking of. Os, ee ~~ ~ $25 99 i / YY vr eos om on Ca q $9 a pak Se e 7 i i < . 1 . As l' am not ORs aa e tO » point out all tne contradic- : : si tions in time, place and circumstance, that abound in the books ascribed to Moses, and which prove to a demonstration that those books AEE ar be written by Moses, nor in the time of Moses, I proceed to the book of Joshua, and to show that Joshua is not the author of that book, and that it is anonymous and without authority. The evidence I shall produce is contained in the book itself; I will not go out of the Bible for proof against the supposed authenticity of the Bible. False testimony is always good against itself. eee according to the first chapter | of Joshua, was the immediate successor of Moses he was, mor eover, a military man, which Moses was not, and he continued as chi ef of the people of Israel 25 years ; that is, from the time Moses died, which, ne to the Bible chronology, was 1451 years before Christ, until 1426 year before Christ, when, accord- ing to the same chronology, Joshua died. If, therefore, we find in this book, said to have been written by Joshua, refer- ence to facts done after the death of Joshua, it is evidence that Joshua could not be the author; and also that the book could not have been written till after the time of the latest fact which it records. As to the character of the book, it is horrid ; it is a military history of rapine and murder, as savage and brutal as those recorded of his predecessor in rillainy and hypocrisy, Moses ; and the blasphemy consists, as in the former books, in ascribing those deeds to the order of the Almig ghty. In the firs t plac >, the book of Joshua, as is the case in the Seeedine | books, is written in the third person; it is the historian of Joshua that speaks, for it would h lave been ab- surd and vain-glorious that Joshua should say of himself, as is said of him in the last verse of the sixth chapter, that “his fame was noised throughout all the country.” I now come more immediately to the proof.PART II. | THE AGE OF REASON, VT is said, “that Israel served the days of | Joshua, and aE the days of th In the 24th « hapter, ver. . 31, it = V7 Li UuilG elders that overlived Joshua.” Now, in = L 1 the name of com- be Joshua that rele ates what pe ople had done after he was dead? This acc ount must not only have been wriiten by some historian that lived after Joshua, but th: at lived also after the elders that outlived Joshua. mon sense, can i There are severa passages of a general meanine with respect to time, scattered file ote t the book of Joshua, that carries the time in which the book was written to a dis- tance from the time of Foal hua, but without marking by exclu- sion any parti euler 4 time, as in the ve ] ; the passage above quoted. In that passage, the time that intervened between the death ] Ep C ] - i. ° + | | } of Jc oshua anda the vos Ol tne elde rs 1s excluded descrip- tively and absolutel LY and the evidence sul lates that the book eould not have been wr itten till after the death of But though the passages to which I allude, and which I am going to quote, do not designate any particular time by exclusion, they imp! y atime far more distant from the days of Tosh than is contained between the death of Joshua and the death of the elders. Such is the passage, cha Dp. x. - 14; where, after giving an account that the sun stood still upon Gibeon, and the moon in the valley: of Ajalon, at the command of Joshua, , (a tale only fit to amuse chil: iren,) the passage Says ‘And there was no day Ii like that, before it, nor after it, Hiatt the Lord hearkened to the voice of a man.” This tale of the sun standin ¢ still upon Mount Gibeon, and the moon in the valley of Aj jalon, is one of those fables that detects itself. Suchac ircumstance could not have h lappe ened without so known all over the world. One-half would have wondered why the sun did not rise, and the other why it did not set; and the tradition of it would be univ rersal, whereas there is not a nation in the world that knows any- thing about it. But why must the moon stand still? W hat occasion could there be for moonlight in the daytime, and A that too while the sun shined? As a poetical figure, the « ? “y P whole is well eno ugh; it is akin to that in the song of CO Deborah and Barak, ihe stars in their courses fought against Sisera; but it is inferior to the figurative declaration of Mahomet to the persons who came to expostulate with him patisetie + PERASAIREACEAR QL Er dias Pos eet tes See E ee Taree) . Ra OR 8S abd eee hs Os ep ta eB lee ts sirieddibl78 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART It. on his gO ing on, Wert thou, Sar id he, to come to me with the sun mn thy rignt Aane 1 and the moon an thy Laps at should 706 alter my career. Yor Joshua to have exceeded Mahomet, he ; = * : | ‘ 2 | should have put the sun ant d moon one in each pocket, and carried them as Guy Faux carried hls dark lantern, and taken them out to ee as he might happen to want them ‘culous are often so nearly related The sablinie nd the rid , that it is diffic ult class them separately. One step above the sublime makes he ridiculous, and one step above the ridiculous makes the sublim the account, however, abstracted from the poetical fancy, shows the ignorance of Joshua. for he should have comman Jed the earth to have Joshua, fOr He Snoula OaVve CO nan¢ pone e@albi DO £ e stood still. The time 4 plied by the expression ajt ter it, that is, after eing put in comparison with all the time that pede A that day, b passed bifire.: it, must, in order to give any e xXpressi ve sig- a5 vification to the passage, Mean a great lenc gth of tiume;—tor d have been ridiculous to have said so the exam it would ha next day, or the next week, or the next month, or the next e, meaning to the passage, compara- ‘9 oS year; to tive with the wonder it relates, and the pl -10r aia it alludes to, it must mean centuries of years; less, however, than 3 one would be trifling, and less than two would be ba arely a 3 Ss ive 5 ther -efo TE 1b A distant, but general time, is also expressed in the 8th chapter; where, after giving an account ‘of the t: aking the city of Ai, it is ae ver. 2 Sth, “And Joshua burned Ai, and made it an heap forever, a desolation unto this day;” and again, ver. 29, where, spea ukinge of the king of Ai, whom I hives 1 hay an: mrad at th antari £ athe. Joshua had hanged, and buried at the entering oi the gate, it is said, ““ And he raised thereon a arent heap of stones, which remaineth unto this « s, unto the day or time in which the writer of the books of er shua lived. And again, in the 10th chapter, wher« speaking of the five s whom Joshua had haz ad on five mone nie ‘then king: thrown in a cave, it is said, “ And] ne laid great stones on the cave’s mouth, which remain unto th 11s very pT In enut merating the several expl oits of Joshua, and of the I tribes, and of the places which they cor eas or attempted, it is said, c. xv. ver. 63, “As for ‘the Jebusite es, the inhabi- tants of Jerusalem, the children of Judah could not drive them out; but the Jebusites dwell with the children ofPART II. | THE AGE OF REASON "9 Judah at Jerusalem unto this day.” The > question upon this passage is, at what time did the Jebusites and the children of Judah dwell together at Jerusalem? Ag this matte occurs again in the first ch: apter of Judges, I shall reserve my observations till I come to that part. Having thus shown from the book of Joshua itself, without my auxiliary evi nee whatever, that Joshua is not the author of that 200k, and that it is anonymous, and conse- quently without aut! ority, 1] I proceed, as_before-mention 1ed, to dite 1e book of Judges. The book of Judges is anonymous on the face of it; and, therefore, even the pretense is wanting to call it the word of God; it has not so much as a nx; minal voucher; it is alto- gether fatherless. ~~ > This book begins with the same expression as the book of Joshua. That of Joshua begins, chap. 1. ver. 1, Now after the death of Moses, ete. , and this of the Jud lores be N low after the death of Joshua, etc. This, and the simi. larity of style between the two books, indicate that 4 they are the work of the same author, but who he was, is alto- gether unknown; the only point ¢hat the book proves is that the author lived long after the time of f Joshua; for though it begins as if it followed immediately after his death, the second chapter is an epitome or abstract of the whole book, which, aeco: ding to the Bible chronolo gy, extends its history th poug! a ils vce of 306 years; that is, from the death of Joshua, 1426 } years before Christ, to the death of Samson, 1120 years if fore Christ, and only 25 years before Saul went to seek his father’s asses, and was 4 made king. But there is good reason to believe, that it was not written till the time of David, at least, and that the book of Joshua was not written before the same time. in the first ch: upter of Judges, the writer, after announc- ing the death o! Joshua, proceeds to tell what happened between the children of Judah and the native inhabitants of the land of Canaan, In this statems ant, the writer having © 2g nhs es Ci, abruptly mentioned Jerusalem in the 7th verse, Says imme- diately after, in the 8th verse, by way of explanation, “ Now the children of Judah had fought against Jerusalem, and taken it :” eonsedmenthy this book coul: d not have been writ- ten before Jer usalem had been taken. The reader will recol- lect the quotation I have just before made from the 15th Pee) pet eS EAST ETS 2) ts eth eed: Sate Me ae hk 8 nahin D80 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART II, chapter of Joshua, ver. 63,.where it said that the Jebusites 274 thre Wry dwell with the children oF Judah at Jerusalem at this day , meaning the time when the book of Joshua was written. The evidence | baton lready p! ‘oducet a to PLO > that the books I have hitherto treate 1d of were not written by the 1 persons to whom they are asc ribed, nor till many years after their death, if such persons ever eds 3s alreac it so abundant, that I can afford to admit this passage with less we ight than I am entitled to draw from it. For the case ise th iat so far as the Bible can be credited as an history, ne city of Jerusalem was not taken till the time of David : : TLC , conse quently, the nooks of Joshua, and of Judges, were het written till after the commencement of ‘the reign of David, which was 370 1 hn i years after the death of Joshua. The name of the city, that was afterwards called Jeru- salem, was originally Jebus, or Jebusi, and was the capital oF the Jebusites. The account of David’s taking this city is iven in 2 Samuel, chapter v., ver. 4, &c.; also in 1 Chron., ahs, xiv., ver. 4, &c. There is no mention in any part of the Bible that it was ever taken before, nor any account that favors such an opinion. It is',said, either in Samuel or in Chronicles, that they wtterly destr yel men, women, and children ; that they left not a soul to breathe, as is said of their gpk conquests; and the silence here observed implies that it was taken by cap yitulation, and that the Jebusites, | the native rh ts, continued to live in the place after it was taken. The pengunt.t therefore e, given | n Joshua that the Jebu- sites dwell with the children of Judah at Jerusalem at this day, corresponds to no other time than after the taking of the city by David. Having now ove that every book in the Bible, from Genesis ‘to Judges, is without authenticity, I come to the book of Ruth, an idle, bungling story, foolishly told, nobody knows by ibiora A about a strolling country-s girl creeping y slyly to bed to her cousin Boaz. Pretty stuff indeed to be called the ae of God! It-is, however, one of the best books in the Bible, for it is free from murder and rapine. I come next to the two books of Samuel, and to show that those books were not written by Samuel, nor till a great length of time after the death of Samuel; and that they are, like all the Caer books, anonymous and without authority. To be convinced that these books have been written muchFART 11. ] THE AGE OF REASON, 81 later than the timeof § Samuel, and, consequently, not by him, it is only nec cessary to read the ace oun which the writer gives of & Saul going to seek his father’s asses s, and of his interview with Sar nuel, of whom ae en to inquire about those lost asses, as foolish people now- -days go to a conjurer to inquire after lost thin The writer, In r relating this story of Saul, Samuel and the asses, does not tell it as a thi ng that had just then happened, but as an ancient s¢ tory in the “time this writer lived ; for he tells it in oe language or terms used at the time that Sam- uel lived, which obli ges the writer to ex As $ peel } } n the world, have ren- The chief use I shall make of those books will be that of comparing them with each other, and with other parts of the Bible, to . show the confusi ion, contradiction and this pretended word of Gc The first book of Kings diesihn with the oe of Solomon, which, according to the Bibl chronology, 7as 1015 years be- fore Christ; and the second book ends 588 yen s before Christ, being a little after the reion of Zedekiah, whom Nebuchad- nezzar, after taking Jerusalem and conque ring the Jews, car- ried captive to Baby] lon. ‘I'he two books include a space of 427 y Tears. The two books of Chronicles are a History of the same times, and, in general, of the same persons, by another author; for it would be absurd to suppose that the same crue slty in bow Piet ne et Pek T eS ere er} ae Ss Lit bbbetee co te TT) te ek. as 8 Sani Secreted ar" Pe ee rere ea ayaver 84 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART II. author wrote the history twice over. The first book of Chronicles (after giving the genealogy from Adam to Saul, which takes up the first nine ¢ shapt ters) begins with the reign of David; and the last book ends as in the last book of Kings, soon after the reign of Zedekiah, about 588 years before Christ. The two last verses of the last chapter bring the history 52 years more forward, that 1s, to 536. ‘But these verses do not belong to the book, as I shall show when I come to spe oe of the book of Ezra. The two books of Kings, be ‘sides the history of Saul, David and Solomon, who reigned over add Israel, contain an abstract of the lives of seventeen kings and one queen, who are styled Kings of Judah, and of nineteen, who are styled Kings of Israel; for the Jewish nation, immediately on the death of Sol omon, eee t into two parties, who chose separate kings, and who carried on most rancorous wars against each pies Those two books are little more than a history of assassina- tions, treachery and wars. The cruelties ne ; the Jews had accustomed themselves to practice on the Canaanites, whose country they had savagely invaded under a pretended gift from God, they afterwards practiced as furiously on each other. Scarcely half their kings died a natural death, and, in some instances, whole families were destroyed to secure possession to the successor. who, after a few years, and s0wzélimes only a few months, or less, shared the same fate. In the tenth chapter of the second book of Kings an account is given of two baskets full of chil- dren’s heads, seventy in number, being « exposed at the entrance of the city; they were the children of A (hab, and were murdered by the orders of Jehu, whom Elisha, as pretended man of God, had anointed to be king ove Israel, on purpose to commit this bloody deed, and assas- sinate o predecessor. An 1 in the account of the reign of Manaham, one of the os of Israel who had murdered Oy} Waa Tee i q 8 See Ba ae a gl t Siallwann who haa reionea but one month, : it 1s said, Kings, chap. xv., ver. 16, that Manaham smote the city of Tiphsah, because mney opened not the city to him, and all the women that were therein that were with child they ripped up. Could we permit ourselves to suppose that the Almighty 9, 1 would distinguish any nation of people by the name of Hisz PART II. ] THE AGE OF REASON. 85 chosen people, we must suppose that pe ople to have been an example to all the rest of the world of the purest piety and humanity, and not such a nation of ruffians and cut- throats as the ancient Jews were; a people who, corrupted by and copying after such monsters and impostors as Moses and Aaron, Joshi ua, Samuel and David, had distinguished themselves above all others, on the face of the known earth, for barbarity ; und wielstdinase, If we will not stubbornly Shut our eyes and steel our he rts, it is impossible not to see, in spite of all that eee superstition im- poses upon the mind, that that His chosen people is no other than a die the priests and leaders of the Jews had invented, to cover the baseness of their own character rs, and which Chr istian priests, some- times as corrupt and often as cruel, have professed to believe. The two books of Chronicles are a repetition of the same crimes; but the history is broken in several plac es by the author leaving out the reion of some of their ] kings; and n this, as well as in that of Kings, there i is such a frequent transition from kings of Judah to kings of Israel, and from eine of Israel to kings of Judah, ‘that the narrative is obscure in the reading. In the same book the history some- v f= o> times contradicts itself ; for example, in the second book of Kings, chap. i., ver. 8, we are tol d, but in rather ambiguous terms, Seetienss after the death of Ahaziah, King of Israel, Jehoram, or Joram, (who was of the house of Ahab,) reigned in his stead in the second year of Jehoram, or Joram, son of Jehoshaphat, King of Judah; and in chap. vili., ver. 16, of the same book it is sa uid, and in the fifth year of Joram, the son of Ahab, king of Israel, Jehosha- phat being then king of Judah, began to reign gn; that is, one chapter says Joram of Judah began to reign in the second year of Joram of Israel; and the other cha upter says, that Joram of Israel began to reign in the Sifth year of Joram of Judah. Several of the most extraordinary matters related in one history, as having happened during the reign of such and such of their kines, are not to be found in the other, in relating the reign of the same ki ing; for example, the two first eel kings, after the d and Jeroboat me and Ie + eath of Solomon, were -ehoboam Kings, chap. xii. and RIL ,, oe flattering appellation of Pre] SPSS Re Res etaay Pe ad th eee . aateter es . *$e regs ta tessese Resireee Hee eteeeNu? a THE AGE OF REASON. [PART 11. ny) { account is given of Jeroboam making an offering of burnt incense, and that a man who is there called a man of God, cried out against the altar, chap. xii. ver. 2: “O altar, altar, thus saith the Lord: Behold, a child shall be born to the house of David, Josiah by name, and upon thee shall he offer the priests of the high Pee and burn incense upon thee, and men’s bones shall be burnt upon thee.” Verse 4: “And it came to pass, when king Jeroboam heard the saying of the man of God, which had cried against the altar in Bethel, that he put forth his hand from the altar, saying, Lay hold on him. And his hand, which he put out against him, dried up, so that he could ne e pull wt aga n to him. i One would tl ae that such an extraordinary case as this, (which is spoken of asa judomer snt,) happening to the chief 2 f the partie S, an 1d that at the first moment of the 118 7 of one of separation of the Israelites into two nations, would, if it had been true, have been recorded in both histories But though men, in latter times, have believed all that sues prophets have said unto them, it does not appear these prophets or histori- ans believed each other; they knew each other too well. A long account also is given in Kings about Elijah. It runs through several « chapters 8, and concludes with telling, 2 Kings, chap. il. ver. 11: “And it came to pass as they (Elijah and Elisha) still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire, and parted them both ¢ asunder, and ijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.” Hum! this the author of Chronicles, miracu- lous as the story is, makes no mention of, th ough he men- tions Elijah by name; neither ao he say anything of the story related in the second chapter of the same book of Binge, of a parcel of children calling Elisha bald head, bald ee at this man of God, bis 24, “turned back, and he 2m, and cursed them in the name of the Lord; and there came forth two she bears out of the wood, and tore forty and two children of them.” He also passes over e the story told, 2 Kings, chap. xiii, that when they vere burying aman in the sepulc ‘hre, Where Elisha had been buried, it happened that the dead man, as they were letting him down, (ver. 21,) “touched the bones of E “lisha, and he (the dead man) revived, and stood upon his feet. ” The story does not tell us whether they buried the man notwithstanding he revived and stood upon his feet, or drew Pee upo in silenceTHE AGE OF REASON. 8ST him up again. Upon all these stories the writer of Chroni- cles is as silent as any writer of the present day, who did not choose to be accused of lying, or at least of romancing, etl be about stories of the same kind. But, however these two historians may differ from each other, with respect to the tales related by either, they are silent alike with respect to those men styled prophets, whose writings fill up the latter part of the Bible, Isaiah, who lived in the time of Hezekiah ,1S mentioned in King's, and again in Chronicles, when these historians are spea Fat gy of that reign; but exc ept IN one or two instances at most, ‘and those very sli ightly, none of the rest are so much = spoken of, or even hinted at; though, according to the Bible chro- nology, they lived within the time those histories were written; some of them long before. If those prophets, as they are called, were men of such importance in their day, as the compilers of the Bible, and priests and commentators have since represented them to be, how can it be accounted for, that not one of these histories should say anything about them? The history in the books of Kings and of Chronicles is brought forward, as I have already said, to the year 588 before Christ; it will, therefore, be proper to examine which of these 1 prop hets liv ad before that Pee: Here foll lows a tal dle of all the prophet vith the times in which they lived before Ch nue according seh the chronology o affixed to the first c A ete - of each of the books of th 1e ae ‘oph- ets; and also of the ee of years they lived before the books of Kinos and ne ironicles were written. ae This table is either not very honorak ble for the Bible his- torlans, or not very ven orable for the Bible prophets ; and I leave to priests and commentator ‘S, re are very learned in little things, to settle the point of etiquette between the two ; and to assign a reason, why the authors of Kings and Chron- icles have treated those pre ophets, whom in the former part of the Age of Reason, I have considered as poets, with as much degrading silence as any historian of the present day would treat Peter Pindar. I have one observation more to make on the Book of Chronicles ; after which I shall pass on to review the remain- ing books of the Bil le. Libtinnt ete Lest tT Ere ry sgereee dabehessestef-sedeser ses ceceseeess co PS pee ood ee es.88 THE AGE OF REASON [PART In. Table of the Prophets, with the time in which they lived before Christ, and also before the books of Kings and Chronicles were written. jee fea a + years |Yrs. before| { Names. before | Kings and OBSERVATIONS. |Christ. | iChronicles. fe ede ee 1 ' | | ' | = Isaiah - . i 760 172 mentioned. 2OQ ij mentioned only in the Jeremiah - E Rote 41 | ( Jast chap. of Chron. Ezek - - 595 7 not mentioned. zekiel | 595 7 t j Daniel : ~ 607 | 19 Inot mentioned, Hosea - - 785 | 97 {not mentioned. J cel “ ° 800 | 212 Inot mentioned. Amos = : 789 199 Inot mentioned, Obadiah : « 789 | 199 jnot mentio ied. Jonah : - 862 | 274 jsee the note* Micah - 750 | 162 jnot mentioned. Nahum . - GB] 125 jnot mentioned. Habakkuk - - | 620 | 38 jnot mentioned, Zephaniah - . 630 2 jnot mentioned. Hagvai ( after the | Zechariah vedr a | Malachi \ oe | *In2 Kings, chap. xiv. ver. 25, the name of Jonah is mentioned on account of the restora! ion of a tract of land by Jeroboam ; but nothing further is said of him, nor is any allusion made to the nO oe of Jonah, nor to his expedition to Nineveh, nor to his encounter with the whale. In my obsvervations on the Book of Genesis, I have quoted a passage from the 36th chapter, verse 31, which evidently refers to a time after that kings began to reign over the children of Israel ; and I have shown that as (hie verse is verbatim the same as in Chronicles, cl lap. 1., verse 43, where it stands consiste ntly with the order of history, which in Genesis it does not, that the verse in Genesis, and a great part of the 36th chante have been ee from Chron- ic] 1d that the book of Ge nesis, though it is pli iced first yle and ascribed 1as been manufactured by some een a person, after the Bc ot of Chronicles was written, which was fo until at least eight hundred and sixty years atta the time of Moses. The evidence I proceed by to eae late this is regular, and has in it but two stages. First, sl 2 ave already stated, that the passage in Genesis “afore itself for time to Chron- icles ; secondly, that the book of Chronic! es, to which this passage refers. itself, was not begun to be written until at least eight hundred and sixty years after the time of Moses, T'o prove nn we have only to look into the thirteenth verse } LO Mose Se ha = ad ~ ook eet ir bo = ~r 7 ~ PART IT. | THE AGE OF REASON. 89 of the third chapter of the first book of Chronicles, where the y¥ writer, in giving the ge nealogy of the descendants of Paid mentions Zedekiah ; and it was in the time of Teds kiah, that Nebuchadnezzar peneauored te: 088 years before Christ, and consequently more than 860 years after Moses. Those who hav e supe erstiti USLY boasted of the PRAIRIE i . a ee s Woe "Bs } > . 7 quity Oo} the Bible, and De articularly ol he books ascribed to } 2 ] a4 ; eed s a have done it without examination, and wi r - iy t ‘ = 3 thout any ; th CL An Ss Le 1 " auth ty than that.of one credulous man telling it to anothe Cs igre Ce } lis. ee 133 : i0rTr, SO far as hi iste ric al and chronolog ica il ev ide nce applies. the oie Rite } fe Bala ic el e very “airst DOOK in the OM lLbie 1S not so ancient as the DOOK ot J I i a i ae ee es eee ven o Pe ee ae ey # E “ “Ha ® 5 1 momer, Dy more than three hundred years, and 18 about the same age with A’sop’s Fables. 1 am not contending for the morality of F Homer; on the contrary, I think it a book of false glory ; tending to inspire immoral and mischievous notions of honor; and with-res spect to Afsop, though the moral is in general just, the fable is often raed: and the cruelty of the fable does more injury to the heart, especially in a child, than the moral does good to the judgment. Having now dismissed Kings and Chronicles, I come to the next in course, the book of Ezra. As one proof, among others, I shall produce, to show the disorder in which this pretended word of God, the Bible, has been put together, and the uncertainty of who the authors were, we have only to look at the three first verses in Ezra, and the two last in Chronic ie for by what kind of cutting and shuffling has it been that the three first verses in Ezra should be the two last verses in Chron- icles. or that the two last in Chronicles should be the three first in Ezra? Either the authors did not know their own works, or the compilers did not know the authors. Two last Verses of Chronicles. Three first Verses of Hera. Ver. 22. Now in the first year Ver. 1. Newi 1 the » first year of Cyrus, king of Persia, that the of Cyrus, king of P ersia, that the word of the Lord, spoken by the word of the Lord, by the mouth mouth of ‘Jeremiah, might be of Jeremiah, might be fulfilled, accomplished, the Lord stirred the Lord stirred up the spirit of up the spirit of Cyrus, king of Cyrus, king of Persia, that he Persia, that he made a procla- made a proclamation throughout mation throughout all his king- all his kingdom, and put it also dom, and put it alsoin writing, in writing, saying saying, 2. ‘Thus duithe ‘Cyrus, king of THEAPAG REA CAAA gre dr iie = *éiésesarrecst<+4¢2* eters - bqeregsieteseree peepee re ta tthe hee ot tee eel |90 THE AGE 23. Thussaith Cyrus, king of Persia, all the kingdoms of the earth hath the Lord God of heaven given me; and he hath charged me to build him an house in Jerusalem which is in Judah. Who is there among you of his people? the Lord his God be with him, and let him up. verse in Chronicles of the phrase wi The last in the middle fying to what place. This of the same verses in the already said, the disorder and has been put together, and th Be 1or what I eS A A wy what they have ¥ authority believing T he only book of Ezra, is a time ? passed alc king y thei ng, re *I observed, as I Bible, without thin mM O1 Cc of the work; such as at, 1 San reion¢ -d one year; and when he had reig him three thousand men,”’ etc. year has no sense, since it does not tell what happened at the end of say he reion ed one year, when the if he had it was il very + onea two, veral quence enough to be intro luced in the body The first part of the verse that one ee and npossible cae to have OF REASON. (PART It. Persia. The Lord God of heaven hath given me all the kingdoms of the earth; and he hath charg- ed me to buil d him an house at Jerusalem, which is in Judah. 3. W rho is there among you of all his people? his God be with him, and let him go up, to Jerusalem, which ts in Judah, and build the house of the Lord God of Llsrael (he ts the God) which ts in Jerusalem. s broken abruptly, and ends ‘th the word up, without signi- abrupt break, and the appearance different books, shaw as I have ignorance in which the. Bible at the compilers of it had no they were doing, nor we any ¢ done.’ thing that has any appearance in which it was uthority for of certainty in the vritten, which was broken and senseless passages in the ver. 1, where it said, ‘* Saul med two years over Israel, Saul chose that Saul reigned one us what Saul did, nor say anything of itis, besides, mere absurdity to t phrase says he had reigned two; for reigned one. ap. Xi is An¢ ther J instance occurs in Joshu 1a, chap. v. where the writer tells us a story of or such the table of contents at the head of the chapter calls him) ap- nto Joshua: and the story ends abruptly, and without any conclusion. ‘The story is as follows:—Ver. 13, “And it came to pass, when Josh was by Jericho, that he lifted up his eyes and Jooked, and behold there stood aman over against him with his sword drawn in said unto him, Ar: thou for us, or for ou Nay; but as the captain of the hosts of feil on his face to the earth, and did Lord unto his servant?’? Verse 15, **And unto Joshua, Loose thy shoe from off thy eth is holy. And Joshua did so, And ends, and the chapter too Hither this story is broken off i in the middle, ended humorist. in ridicule of. of the Bible, ter. v introduces an angel in the fi fore whom Jos ua falls son his to their s cond commandment:) and beaven ends, in te aim to pull up his breeches. t is certain, however. fier: as appears from the cavalier he was gone into the mount. ‘As fi become of him.” Exod. chap. xxxii. Joshua’s prete not perceiving tt e design of ure his hand; r adversaries??? V our Lord worship and said unto him, What W hat then; Asa story of humor an a ridicule, it has of am fice to the then, lling Joshua to ‘pull off his shoe, and Joshua went unto him and ‘rse 14, ‘* And he said, I nowcome. And Joshua saith my the the Lord’s host said foot; for the place whercon thou staud- nothing, for here the story am capiuin of or itis a story told by some Jewish mission from and the compilers have told it as a serious mat- great deal of point, for it pompons- n, with a drawn sword in his hand, be earth, and worships, (which ix contrary this mos! important embassy from [t might as well have told xod: the story, that the Jews did not credit everythi ng their leaders told 12nner in which th y speak of Moses, when Tite Moses,’ ver. 1. + gay they, ‘‘ we wot not whatisPART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 91 immedia oy after the return of the Jews from the Babylon- ian captivi ty, about 036 years before Christ. Ezra according to the Jewish commentators as is called E a (who, ae the same person sdras in the Apocry} pha) was one of the per- Ss who returned, and who, it is probable, ¥ vrote the account of that afi a Nehemiah, whose book fol eMs next to Hzra, Was ar 10ther of the retumed persons; and who, it is alee probable, wrote the account of the same affair, in the book that ee name. But those accounts are nothing to us, nor to any o ds persons, unless it be to the Jews, as a part of the history of their n ation; and there is just ¢ 1e word of God in those books as there is in any of the his- tories of France, or Ray pin’s history of England, or the of any other country. But even in matters of historical record, neither of tho: hi iSLOrY ose writers are to be depended upon. In the second chapter of Ezra, the writer gives a list of the tr ibes and families, and of the precise m imber of souls of each that returned from Babylon to Jer ‘usalem; and this enrollment of the persons so returned appears to have been one of the prineipal objects 4 for writing the book, butin this there is an error that d estroys the intention of the unde rtaking. rT} eat at ine writer begins his enro!'ment in the following man- ner, re ll., Ver. 3: “The ch uild ren of Parosh, two thousand | uu 1 3 Cc Fas Vice, ° 6¢ e one hundred seventy and four.” Ver. 4: « Dhe children of oy ES pase : 1 4 eee Ty eee 8g rec “wets gaems eka three hundred seven ty andtwo.” And-in this ier verse he makes a total. and says, the whole congrecation together was forty and two thousand three Hendead and three score. manner he proceeds through all the families: and in the 64th Chap. ii. )Bro’t forward, 11,577|Bro’t fo rward, 15,783) B ro’tforw'd, 19 444 Verses 3, 2,172|Ver. 13, "BK6| iVer. . 23, 128} er. 33, 25 4, 372 14, 2,056) a4: 42 34, oe gue 2 "Cali, bet ia a 6, 6, 93} 26, 621 35, 7, 17, 323 27, 122 BY, 8, 18, 112| 28, 223 88, 9, 19 223 | 29, 52} B9, 10, 642 20, 95 | 30, 1At 40, 11 623 oi. 2.5] 31, 1,254} 41, : ¢ As 2, 1,222] 22, 66 82, 820] 42, | BS, 60, 15,783 4S much of er ecresee er adeieh tel tl Dot Lt oe bee tks asl tet eoeeeas Tf tet Tre te Cee h Esdisgversyeev oseeee sreyeses Rite etee et tg Pere THE AGE OF REASON. [PART Il. we} bo But whoever cole take La trouble of casting uz p the sev- ut, g up ral particulars, will find that the total is but 29,818; so that a error is 12,54 1 What certainty, then, can there be in a een he ot ae eg sie toe Bible LOr anytning: Nehemiah, in like ManRer Onves; a dsb .OrL ae revuy ned families, and of the number of each fam LV. bes see as i : mi Oe Coli aie a in izra, by saying, chap. vu., ver. 8: “The child ‘en of Pa rosh, two thousand three hundred and seventy-two”; Aoi so on through all the families. | in se of the particulars from that of Ezra. ve Nehemiah a total, and says, as ni whole congregation together was forty and two thousand three hundred and three score.” | But the particulars of this list eae a total of but 31,089, so that the error | is 11,271. These writers may do well e1 nough for Bible- makers, but not for anything where truth and exactness is necessary. The next book in course is the book of Esther. If Madam Esther thou ught it any honor to offer herself as a kept mistress to Ahasuerus, or as a rival to Queen Vashti, who had refused to come to a drunken king, in the des of a drunken company, to be made a show of, (for the account says they had been dial king seven days, and were merry,) let Esther and Mordecai look to that, it is no business of ours—at least, it is none of mine; besides which the te has a great deal the appearance of being fabulous, and i also anonymous. I pass on to the book of Job. The book of Job BateTS 3 in character from all the books we have |] pt arto passer dover. Treachery and murder make no part of this book; itis the a eee ns of a mind strongly impressed with the Vie issitudes of human life, and by turns sinking under and strugeling against the pressure. It is a high! Uy-wrought composition, be tween willing submission and involuntary dis scontent; and shows man, “as he som times is, more ‘disposed to be resigned than he is capak all share in the character of the person of whom whe book treats; on the contrary, his grief is often impetuous , but he still endeavors to keep a guard upon it, and seems de ‘termined, in the midst of accu- mulating ills, to impose upon himself the hard duty of con- tentment. I have spoken in a respectful manner of the book of Job x 1 } h IQ ie 5 of oe Patience has but a sm — * Particulars of the families from the second chapter of EzreTHE AGE OF REASON. 93 in the forme? part of th Ageo Reason but ith U To I Wale AMOY pa4rt J ) cs ge of LVUCUSO72, DUE WIT out ne )W = ing, at that time, what 1 have learned since; which is that, from all the evidence that can be collected, does not belong x to the Bible. I have seen the opinion of two Hebrew me 1mentators, Abenezra and Spinoza, upon this subject; t ihe book of Job ] lece , are not Ee ebrew; that it has be en translated from anc ther lancuage into Heb rew, and that the author of the book was a Ger itile; that the character rep- resented under the name of Sat: afi (which is the first and only time this name is mentioned in the Bible) does not correspond to any Hebrew idea; and that the two convoca- tions which the Dei ity is supposed to have made of those whom the poem calls sons of Go hey both say that the book of a carries no interna] evidence of being a Hebrew book; hat the ge nius of the com} position, and +] the drama of hax yi d, and the familia rity which this supposed § atan is stated to have with the Dai ty, are in the same case. It may also be observed that t the book shows itself to be the production of a mind c alenditea 1 in science, which the Jews, so far from being famous for, were very ignorant of, the allusions to objects of natural] "philosoph: 7 are frequent and strong, and are of a dieeioah cast to anything in the books known to be Hebrew. The astronomical name S, Pleiades, nee and Arcturus, are Greek and not Hebrew names, and it does not ay pear from anything that is to be found in the Bible, that the Jews knew anything of astron- omy, or that they studied i it; they had no translation of those names into their own language, but adopted the names as they found them in the poem. That the Jews did translate the literary productions of the Gentile nations into the Hebrew language, and mix them with their own, is not a matter of doul bts the thirty- first chapter | of Proverbs is an evidence of this: it is there said, ver. 1, The word of hing Lemuel, the pr ophec cy which his mother taught him. This verse stands as a preface to the proverbs that follow, and which are not the e proverbs of Solomon, but of Lemuel; and this Lemuel was not one of the kings of Israel, nor of Judah, but of some other country, and consec quently a Gentile. The Jews, however, have adopted his proverbs, and as thay cannot give any account who the author of the book of Job was, or how they came SPSCASASRQATERAQSe er dT DLS bei tek ais sit ebepeneal (tet tts tree Ae os Foe 2 eset94 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART II. by the book; and as it differs in character from the Hebrew writings, and stands totally unconnected with every other book ead chapter in the Bible, before it, and after it, it has all the circumstantial evidence of being originally a book of the Gentiles.” The Bible-makers, and those regulators of time, the chro- nologists, appear to have been at a loss where to place or hew to dispose of the book of Job; for it contains no one historical on r cee aete: nor allusion to any, t that migh t serve to determine its place in the Bible But it would not have answer pose e of these men to have informed the world of thei ce; and, thereire: they have affixed it to the sera of ars before Christ, which is during the time the Israe Me were in Hgypt, and for which they have yast as much authority and no more than I should have for saying it was a thousand years before that period.. The probability, however, is, that it is older than any book in the Bible; and it is the only one that can be read without t indig- nation or disgust. We kn sea of what the ancient Gentile world (as it is called) was before the time of the Jews, whose practice 1 has been to calumniate and blacken the character of all po re ~ =) we other nations; and it is from the Jewish accounts that we have learned to c al them heathens. But, as faras we know to the contrary, they were a ei and moral people, and not addicted, like the Je ews, to cruelty and revenge, but of whose prof »ssion of faith we are unacqi uainted. It appears to have been their custom to personify both virtue and vice by statues and images, as is done now-a- days both bys atuary and by ainting; but it does not follow from this, that they worshiped them any more than we do. I pass on to the book of Wr Pm Qa *The prayer known by the name of Agur’ s Prayer, in the 30th chapter of Proverbs, immediately preceding the aoe ‘bs of Lemuel, and which is the only sensible, well-conceived, and well-expressed prayer in the Bible, has much the appearance of being a prayer taken fro m the Gentiles. The name of Agur occurs on no other occasion than this; and heis Aa ‘oduced, together with the prayer ascribed to him, in the same manner, and nearly in the same words, that Lemuel and his proverbs are int ‘oduced in the ch apte r that follows. The first verse of the 30th chapter says, ‘‘The words of Agur, the son of f Jakeh, oe prophecy;” here the word prophecy is used with the same application it has in the following chapter of Lemuel, unconnected with anything of prediction. The prayer of Agur isin the 8th and 9th verses, “ Remove far from me va ity and lies; give me neither riches nor poverty, but feed me with food convenient for me; lest I be full and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.” This has not any of the marks of being a Jewish prayer, for the Jews never prayed but whey they were in trouble, and never for anything but victory, vengeance and riches.PART 11. | THE AGE OF REASON. 95 Psalms, of which it is not hecessary to make much ob- ervation. Some of them are moral, and others are very revengeful; and the greater part relate to certain local circumstances of the Jewish nation at the written, with which we have nothing to do. It is, however, an error or an imposition to cal] them the Psalms of David; they are a collection, as song books are now-a-days, from different song writers, who lived at different times. The 137th Psalm could not have been written til] more than 400 years after the time of ] Javid, because it was written in Commemoration of an event, the captivity of the Jews in Babylon, which did not happen till that distance of time. “By the rivers of Babylon we sat down; yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the wil- lows,in the midst thereof, for there they that had carried US dwdy captive required of usason J, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.” Asa man would say to an At lerican, or to a Frenchman, or to an Englishman, Sing us one of your American songs, or of your French songs, or of your English songs. This remark with respect to the time this Psalm was written, is of no other use than to show (among others already mentioned) the general imposition the world has been under, with respect to the authors of the Bible. No regard has been paid to time, pl and the names of persons hay wa time they were } ace, and circumstance; e been affixed to the several books, which it was as impossible they should write, as that a man should walk in procession at his own funeral. Lhe Book of Proverbs. These, like the Psaims, are a collection, and that from authors belonging to other nations than those of the Jewish nation, as I have shown in the ob- servations upon the book of Job; besides which, some of the proverbs ascribed to Solomon did not appear till two hun- dred and fifty years after the death of Solomon ; for it is said in the 1st verse of the 25th chapter, “ These are also proverbs of Solomon, which the men of Hezekiah, king of Judah, copied out.” It was two hundred and fifty years from the time of Solomon to the time of Hezekiah. When a man is famous and his name is abroad, he is made the puta- tive father of things he never said or did; and this, most probably, has been the case with Solomon. It appears to have been the fashion of that day to make proverbs, as it is now to make jest-books, and father them upon those who never saw them kite et Dobe PLE eT Tel Cae Tes | biesasarrece?<+ Se *oe ergs tes seen he » C. where the history, upon which the greater part of the book has been employed, begins anew, and ends abruptly. The book has all the appearance of being a mi edley of uncon- nected anecdotes, respecting personsand things of that time, collected together in the same rude manner as if the various and cont tradictory accounts, that are to be found in a bundle of newspapers, respec ting Pe rsons and things s of the present lay, were put together without date, order, or explanation. I will give two or three ex xamples of an is kind. It a uppears, from the account of the 37th chapter, that the army of Nebuchadnezzar, which is called the army of the Ch: ildeans, had besieged Jerusal lem some time; and on nina hearing that the army of Pharaoh Lor {oypt, was ma ‘ching against them they raised the e siege, and retreated for a ne lt may here be proper to mention, in order to understand this confused histo: ys that Nebuchadne zzar had besieged and taken Jerusalem, during the rel en of Jehoakim, the prede- cessor of Zedekiah ; and that 7. was Nebuch: dees who ] 1 made Zedekiah king, or rather viceroy ; and that this to each other: and this disorder runs even to the last Shep be hacPART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 103 second siege, of which the book of Jeremiah treats, was in consequence of the revolt of Zedekiah against Ne 2buchad- nezzar. ‘This will in some me: asure account for the suspicion that affixes itself to Jeremiah of being a traitor, and in the interest of Nebuchadnezzar: whom Jeremiah calls, in the 43d chap., ver. 10, the servant of God. The 11th verse of this chapter, (the : sith,) says, “And it came to oa that, when the army of the ( Ghaldéens was broken up from Ferdsalem: for fear of Pharaoh’s army, that Jeremiah went forth out of Jer usalem, to go (as this account states) into the land of Benjamin, to separate himself thence in the midst of the people; and when he was in the gate of Benjamin a captain of the ward was there, whose name was Irijah ; and he took Jeremiah, the prop het, saying, Thou fallest away to the Chaldeans ; then Jeremiah said, It is false, [ fall not away to the Chaldeans.” Jeremiah being thus stopped and accused, was, after being examined, committed to prison, on suspicion of being a traitor, where he remained, as is stated in the last verse of this chapter. But the next chapter gives an account of the imprison- ment of Jeremiah, which has no connection with this account, but ascribes his imprisonment to another circum- stance, and for which we must go back to the 21st chapter. It is there stated, ver. 1, that Zedekiah sent Pashur, the son of Malchiah, and Zephaniah, the son of Maaseiah, the priest, to Jeremiah to inquire of him concerning Nebuchadnezzar, whose army was then before Jerusalem; “and Jeremiah said to them, ver. 8: “Thus saith the Lord, Behold I set before yon the way of life, and the ayy of death; he that abideth in this city s shall die by the sword, and by the famine, and by the pestiler nee; but he that goeth out and falleth to the Chal- deans that besie ge you, he shall live, and his life shall be unto him for a prey This interview and conference breaks off abruptly at the end of the 10th verse of the 21st chapter; and such is the disorder of this book that we have to pass over sixteen chapters, upon various subjects, in order to come at the continuation and event of this conference; and this brings us to the first verse of the 38th chapter, as I have just men- tioned. The 88th chapter opens with saying: “ Then Se the son of Mattan; Gedaliah, the son of Pashur, and Jucal, ethAgre dedi ro eers 7 SS LE EES Sabi k hs tes tit dbemasas tee tet er tte bid eteie -104 THE > GE OF REASON. [PART IL. the son of Shelemiah; and Pashur, the son of Malchiah, (here are more persons mentioned than in the 21st chapter,) heard the words that Jeremiah spoke unto the people, say- ing, Thus saith the Lord, He that remaineth in this city Kz s y fe pO a }. ) aft, 2 e shall die by the sword, by the famine, and by the pestilence; but he that goeth forth to the Uhaldeans shall live; for he shall have his life for a prey, and shall tive; (which are the . a = . 5 Mich 5 : } a ‘ = oe 1 words of the conference,) therefore, (say they to Zedekiah,) we beseech thee, let us put this man to death, for thus he weakeneth the hands of the men of war that remain in this city, and the hands of all the people in speaking such words unto them, for this man seeketh not the welfare of the people, but the hurt;” and at the 6th verse it is said: “Then they on . 2 ‘ . ae 59 took Jeremiah, and put him into a dungeon of Malchiah. These two accounts are different and contradictory. The one ascribes his imprisonment to his attempt to escape out of the city; the other to his preaching and prophesying in the city; the one to his being seized by the guard at the gate; the other to his being accused before Zedekiah, by the conferees.* In the next chapter (the 39th) we have another instance of the disordered state of this book; for, notwithstanding the siege of the city by Nebuchadnezzar has been the sub- *I observed two chapters, 16th and 17th, in the first book of Samuel} dict each other with respect to David, and the manner he Saul; as the 37th and 38th Chapters of the book of Jeremiah contradict each other with respect to the cause of Jeremiah’s imprisonment. In the 16th chapter of Samuel itis said that an evil spirit of God troubled Saul, and that his servants advised him (as a remedy) ‘‘ to seek out a man who Was a cunning player upon the harp.’ And Saul said, ver. 17: ‘* Provide now a man that can play well, and bring himunto me. Then answered one of his servants, and said, Behold, I have seen a gon of Jesse, the Bethlemite. that is cunning in playing, and a mighty man, and a man of i ss a war, and prudent in matters, and a comely person, and the Lord is with him: w herefore Saul sent , that contra- became acquainted with messengers unto Jesse, aud said, Send me David, thy son. And Lverse 21] David came to Saul, and stood before him, and he loved him steatly, and he became his armour- bearer; and, when the evil spirit of God was upon Sau Lverse 23] David took his harp, and played with his hand, and Saul was refreshed, and was well.” But the next chapter (17) gives an account, all different to this, of the manner that Saul and came acquainted. Here it is ascribed to David's encounter with Goliath, when David was sent by his father to carry provision to his brethren in thecamp. Inthe 53th verse of this chapter it is snid: “And when Saul saw David go forth against the Philistine Goliath] he said to A bner, the captain of the host, Abner, whose son is this youth? And Abner said. Ags thy soul liveth, O king, I cannot tell. And the kin: said, Inquire thou whose son the Stripling is. And as David returned from the e, Abner took him and saidunto him, Whose son art thou, thou it Jesse, the Bethlemite.” These two accounts belie each ich of them supposes Sau slaughter of the Phi istine brought him before Saul, with the head of the Philistine tn his hand: and Sanl young man? And David answered, I am the son of thy servar other, because eg ui and David not to have known each other before. This book, the Bible, is too ridiculous for criticism.PART 11. | THE AGE OF REASON. 105 ject of several of the preceding chapters, particularly the d¢th and 38th, the 39th chapter begins as if nota word had been said upon the subject, and as if the reader was to be informed of every particular respecting it, for it begins pes saying, ver. 1: “Tn the ninth year of Radek iah, king o Fudan the tenth month, came Nebuchadnezzar, hing, a Babylon, and all his army, against Jerusalem, and sieged it,” etc., ete. But the instance in the last chapter (the 52d) is still more ps glaring; for, pose the story has been told over and over again, this chay ter still supposes the reader not to know any- gins by saying, ver. 1: “ Zedekiah was one and twenty yihird old when he began to reign, and he reigned eleven years in Jerusalem, and his mother s name AS flama utal, the daughter of Jeremiah of Libnah, (ver. 4,) and it came to pass in the ninth year of his reign, in the tenth month, that - buchadnezzar, king of Babylon, came he and all his army, against Jerusalem, and pitched against it, and built for rs against it,” ete., ete. It is not possible that: any one man, and more particu- larly Jeremiah, could have been the writer of this book. The errors are such as could not have been committed by any person sitting down to compose a work. Were I, or ' ( nan, to write in such a disordered manner, nobody vould read what was written; and everybody would see that the writer was in a state of insanity. The only way, therefore, to account for this disorder, is, ‘that the book is a medley of detached unauthenticated anbedotes. put tog ether by some stupid book-maker, under the name of Jeremiah because many of them refer to him, and to the circumstance: of the ra he lived 3 in. Of the dupli icity, and of the false predictions of Jeremiah, I shall mention two instances, and then proceed to review the remainder of the Bible. It appears from the 38th chapter, that when J - eremia h was in prison, Zedekiah sent for fern i and at this inter. ‘lew, which was private, Jeremiah pressed it strongly on Zedekiah to surrender himself to the enemy. “ f? says a (ver: 17,) “thou wilt assuredly go fort jh, unto the kin ig of Ba bylon’s princes, then thy soul shall live,” etc. Zedekiah was appre- Hensive that what passed a at this conference should be known; and he said to Jeremiah, (ver. 25,) “If the princes (meaning thing OL it; for ebasis b [ 7 { { pd te we PED E LIL TEL LeStireiy ery ot Siasasarress$+si* ere ee SB a ae aes Phe et eee te oe ft106 THE AGE OF REASON, [PART IT. those of Judah) hear that I have talked with thee e, and they come unto thee, and say unto thee, Declare unto us now what thou hast said unto the king; hide it not from us, and we will not put thee to death; and also what the king said unto thee; then thou shalt say unto them, I presented my supplic hae before the king; that he oh not cause me to return to Jonathan’s house fo die there. Then came all the princes unto Jeremiah, and asked him, and he told them ac- cording to all the words the king had commanded.” Thus, this man of God, as he is called, could tell a he, or very strongly preva ricate, when he sup posed it would answer his urpose; for certai inly he did not go to Zedekiah to make his upplication, neither did he make 1 it; he went because he was sent for, and he emp loyed that op portunity to advise Zede- i iah to Sarena himself to Nebuchadnezzar. In the 34th chapter, is a prophecy of Jeremiah to Zedekiah, in these words, (ver. 2,) “Thus saith the Lord, Behold I oA) give this city into the hands of the king of Babylon, and he will burn it with fire; and thou shalt not escape out of his hand, but thou shalt surely be taken, and delivered into that his hand; and thine eyes shall beh old the eyes of the king of Babylon, and he shall speak with thee mouth to mouth, and thou sh: alt goto Babylon. “ Yet hear the word of the Lord; O Zedeki ah, king of Judah, thus saith the Lord, Thou shalt not die by Ghee SWO! d, but thou shalt die in peace; and with the burnings of thy fath hers, the former kings that were before thee, so shall they burn ables for thee, aint they will lament thee, saying, Ah, Lord; for I have pronounced the word, saith the andy” Now, instead of Zedekiah be shol ding the eyes of the king of Baby! lon, and ee ng with him mouth to mouth, and dying i it ences and with the b yurning of odors, as at fhe fun- eral of hie fathers, (as Je sremiah had declared the Lord him- self had pronounced, ) the reverse, accordi ing to the d2d chap- ter, was the e case; it is there said, (ver. 10,) “That the | king of Babylon slew the sons of Ze dekiah before his eyes: then he put out the eyes of Zedek lah, and bound him in chait ns, and carried him to Babylon, and put him in 7 prison til] rhe day of his death.” What then can we say of these prophets, but that they are imposters and liars? As for Jeremiah, he experienced nene of those evils. He was taken into favor by Nebuch ladnezzar, who gave him in . wRPART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 107 charge to the eepinin of the guard, (chap. xxxix. v. 12,) “Take him (said he) and look “well to him, and do him no harm; but do unto him even as he shall say unto thee.” Jeremiah joined himself afterwards to Nannie and went aha prophesying for be against the Kgypt tians, who 1ad marched to the relief of Jerusalem while it was besieged. [hus much for another of the lying prophets, and the book that bears his name I hav e been the r more pamtenlan in treating of the books ascribed to Isaiah and Jeremiah, because those two are spok- en nt in the books of Kings and Chronicles, which the others i rm es eee ep . are not. ‘The remainder of the books ascribed to the men eC alled prophets, | Shall not trouble myself much about; but take them collectiv rely into the observations I shall piice on ? the character of the men styled prophets. a In the former part of the ae of Reason, I have said that the word prophet was the Bible word for poet, and that the flichts and mapa S of Jewish poets have been foolishly erected into what are now called prophecies, I am sufficiently ciate in this opinion, not only because the books called the prophecies are Sota in poetical lan- guage, but because there is no word in the Bible, except it be the word prophet, that describes what we mean by a poet. I have oo said, that the word signifies a performer upon musical instruments, of which I have given some instances; such as ae t of a company of pr ‘ophets prophesying see psalteries, with tabrets, wit h pipes, with harps, etc., and t Saul prophesied with them, 1 Sam. chap. Xi.5 VET ide sre , 4 ee } } appears from this passage, and from other parts in the book of Samuel, that the word prophet was confined to signify y poetry andl music, for the person who was supposed to ha ive a visionary insight into concealed things was not a pro yhet, but a seer,* (1 Sam., chap. ix. ver. 9); and it was not til Tafeex the word seer went out of use (which most probably was when Saul banished those he called wizards) that the pro- fession of the seer, or the art of seeing, became incorporated into the word prophet. A 7° dl 1 ° > is } at According to the modern meaning of the word prophet and prophesying, it signifies fore telliz ng events to a great dis- tance of time; and it became ne essary to the inventors of 1 knOW not whatis the Hebrew word that corresponds to the word seer in nzlish, but | observe it ixtranslated intu Prench hy La Voyant, irom the verb voir to seé, and which means the person who sees. or the seer. Relea Bot Got el Lt ble ae | G2 5 lata a Pye reet ye ert eL gered te tessrsts isgviyee? tessepapeseseteigeez, ete 108 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART 1. the gospel to give it this latitude of meaning, in order to apply or to stretch what they call the prophecies of the Old Testament, to the times of the New; but according to the Old Testament, the prophesying of the seer, and afterwards of the prophet, so far as the meaning of the word seer was incorporated into that of prophet, had reference only to things of the time then passing, or very closely connected with it; such as the event of a battle they were going to engage in, or of a journey, or of any enterprise they were golng to undertake, or of any circumstance then pending, or of any difficulty they were then in; all of which had im- mediate reference to themselves (as in the case already men- tioned of Ahaz and Isaiah, with respect to the expression, Behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son), and not to any distant future time. It was that kind of prophesying that corresponds to what we call fortune-telling; such as casting nativities, predicting riches, fortunate or unfortunate marriages, conjuring for lost goods, etc.; and it is the fraud of the Christian church, not that of the Jews; and the ignorance and the superstition of modern, not that of ancient times, that elevated those poetical, musical, conjuring, dreaming, strolling gentry into the rank they have since had. But, besides this general character of all the prophets, they had also a particular character. They were in parties, and they prophesied for or against, according to the party they were with; as the poetical and political writers of the present day write in defense of the party they associate with against the other. After the Jews were divided into tw nations, that of Judah and that of Israel, each party had its prophets, who abused and accused each other of being false prophets, lying prophets, impostors, etc. The prophets of the party of Judah prophesied against the prophets of the party of Israel, and those of the party of Israel against those of Judah. This party prophesying showed ittelf immediately on the separation under the first two rival kings, Rehoboam and Jeroboam. The prophet that cursed, or prophesied against the altar that Jeroboam had built in Bethel, was of the party of Judah, where Rehoboam was king; and he was waylaid, on his return home, by a prophet of the party of Israel, who said untoPART 11. ] THE AGE OF REASON. 109 him (1 Kings, chap. x.): “Art thou the man of God that came from Judah? and he said, I am.” Then the prophet of the p arty of Israel said to him, ‘“‘T am a prophet also, as thou art (si ignifying of Judal h), and an angel spake unto me by the word of the Lor 1, saying, Bring him back with thee unto thine house, that he may eat bread and drink water: but (says the 18t h verse) he lied unto him.” This event, however, according to the stor y, 1s, that the prophet of Judah Hever got back to Judah, for he was found dead on the road, by the contrivance off the prophet of Israel, w ho, no doubt, was called a true prophet by his own party, and the pr ‘ophet of Judaha lying pr ‘ophet. [In the third cha apter of the second of } Kings, a stc ory is related of pri op! . sying or conjuring, that shows, in several particulars, the character of a prophet. Jehoshaph at, king of Judah, and Tae am, king of Israel, had for a while ceased their party animosity, and eI Nene d ito an alliance; and these two, together with the king of Edom, engaged in a war against the king of Moab. After uniting, and marching their armies, the story says, they were in great distress for water, upon which Jehoshaphat said, “ Is there not here a prophet of the Lord, that we may inquire of the Lord by ae ? andone of the servants of the king of Israel said, Here is Elisha (Elisha was of the party of Judah. ) And Je Aosta Dias the king of Judah said. The word of the Lord is with him.” The story then says, that these three kings went down to Hlisha; and w fen Elisha (who as I have said, was a Judahmite prophet) saw the king of Israel, he said unto him, “ What have I to do with thee, get thee to the prop yhets of ny father and the prophet ts of thy mother. Nay, but, said the king of Israel, the Lord hath called these three kings together, to deliver the 2m into the hands of the king of Moab,” (meaning because of the’ distress they were it for water r;) upon which Elisha said, “ As the Lord of hosts liveth before whom I stand, surely, were it not that I regarded Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, I would not look towards thee, nor see thee.” Here is all the venom and vulgarity of a party prophet. We have now to see the per forman ice, Or manner of DIOP yhesying. ; Ver lp; “Brine mé,” said. Ti isha, ‘a minstrel; and it came to pass, when he ih dteel played, chat the bend of the Lord came upon him.” Here is the farce of the conjuror. a od Ree TEE aT ee TT eeee gy] ee hates itd heates sot oT te. ote is eee | Pht110 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART IL. Now for the prophecy: “And Elisha said, (singing most probably to the tune he was playing,) Thus saith the Lord Make this valley full of ditches;” which was just telling them what every countryman could have told them mou either fiddle or farce, that the way to get water was to dig for it. But as every conjuror is not famous alike for the same thing, so neither were anon prophets; for though all of them, at least those I have spoken “on were famous for | ying, some of them excelled in cur aos Elisha Ww hom i Nae just men- tioned, was a chief in this branch of prophesying; it was he that ed the forty-two Adlddec in the name of the Lord, whom the two she-bears came and devoured. We are to suppose that those po aree were of the party of Israel; but as those who will curse will lie, there 1 is just as much ores to be given to this story y of Elisha’s two she-bears as there is that of the Dr: .zon of Wantley, of whom it is said, Poor children three devoured he, That could not with him grap yple And at one sup he eat them up, AS a2man would eat an apple. There was another description of men called prophets, that amused themselves with dreams and visions; but whether by night or by day, we know not. These, if they were not quite harmless, were but little mischievous. Of this class are: Ezekiel and Daniel; and the first question upon those books, as upon all the others, is, are they genuine? that is, were they written by Ezekiel and Daniel? Of this there is no proof; but so far as he own opinion goes, 1 am more inclined to beheve they were, than that they were not. My reasons for this opinion are as follows: First, Because those books do not contain internal evidence to prove they were not written by Ezekiel and Daniel, as the books ascribed to Moses, Joshua, Sami uel, etc., etc., prove they were not written by Moses, Joshua, Samuel, ete. Secondly, Because they were nat written till after the Bal bylonish captivity beg an; and’ there is good reason to believe, that not any book in the Bible was written before that period; at least, it is provable, from the books them- selves, as I have already shown, that they were not written till af her the commencement of the Jewish monarchy. Thirdly, Because the manner in which the books ascribed ey 5 omPART 11. | THE AGE OF REASON, 111 to Ezekiel and Daniel are written, agrees with the condition these men were in at the time of male ea Had the numerous commentators ona priests, who have foolishly employed or wasted their time in pretending to expound and unriddle those books s, been carried into ae tivity, as Ezekiel and Daniel oe it would have or atly improved their Pes In ec mmprehendine the hee for this mode of writi is, and hi: : ave saved them the trouble of racking er mavention, as they have done, to no purpose, for they would ha pxfous that the mselves oil: d be obliged to write whatever they had to write, ré specting their Own affairs, or those of their friends, or of their country, in a cone éaled manner, as those men have done ’ These two books differ from all the rest; for it is only these that are filled with accounts of dreams and vi sions; and this difference arose from the situation the vy vriters were In as prisoners of war, or prisoners of state, in a foreign country, which obliged iets to convey even the most tri ling information to eac sh Other, and all their political projects or opinions, in obscure and met: uphorical terms. Th ley hic to have dreamed dre: ams, and seen yi isions, because it wa unsafe for them to speak facts or plain Tangu lace, We e ought, howe -ver, to suppose, that the persons Poi whom they wrote, understood what they meant, and that it was not intended anybody else should. But these busy commenta- tors and priests have been puzzling their wits to find out what it was not inte nded they should ] know, and with which they have nothing to do. Ezekiel and Daniel were carried prisoners to Babylon, under the first captivity, in the time of Jehoiakim, nine years before the second captivity in the time of Zedekiah. The Jews were then stil] numerous, and had considerable force at Jerusale1 m; and as it is natural to suppose that men in the situation of Ezekiel and Daniel. wc sae be meditating the recovery of their country, and their own deliverance, it is reason: rble to ee that the accounts of dreams anc visions, with which thes > books are filled, are no other thana ACLiaa J dented discuised mode of correspondence, to facilitate those objects; it served them as a cypher r, or secret alphabet. If they are not this, they are tales, reveries, and nonsense; or, at least, a fanciful ray of wearing off the wearisomeness of captivity; but the pinion is, that they were the former . tee Lek tt hr 2 2) Pah re eee ede Peete es bh a abs SDEbisitan iret iiss TEE a be 244566 oe)112 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART IL. Ezekiel begins his books by speaking of a vision of cherw- bims, and of a wheel within a wheel, which he says he saw by the river Chebar, in the land of his captivity. Is it not reasonable to suppose, that by the cherubims he meant the z 1 temple at Jerusalem, where they had figures of cherubims? and by a wheel within a wheel (which, as a figure, has always been understood to signify political contrivance) the project or means of recoy ering Jerusalem? In the latter part of this book he su »poses himself transported to Jeru- salem, and into the temple; and he refers back to the vision on the river Chebar, and says (chap. xliiL, ver. 3) that this last vision was like the vision on the river Chebar; which indicates, that those pretended dreams and visions had for their object the recovery of Jerusalem, and nothing further. As to the romantic interpretations and applications, wild as the dreams and visions they undertake to explain, which commentators and priests have made of those books, that of converting them into things which they call prophecies, and making them bend to times and circumstances, as far remote even as the present day, it shows the fraud or the extreme folly to which credulity or priestcraft can go. Searcely anything can be more absurd than to suppose that men situated as Ezekiel and Daniel were, whose coun- try was overrun and in the possession of the enemy, all their friends andrelations in captivity abroad, or in slavery at home, or massacred, or in continual danger of it; scarcely anything, I say, can be more absurd, than to suppose that such men should find nothing to do but that of employing their time and their thoughts about what was to happen to other nations a thousand or two thousand years after they were dead; at the same time, nothing is more natural than that they should meditate the recovery of Jerusalem and DS ped ped Q their own deliverance; and that this was the sole object of all the obscure and apparently frantic writing, contained in those books. In this sense, the mode of writing used in those two books being forced by necessity, and not adopted by choice, is not irrational; but, if we are to use the books as prophecies, they are false. In the 29th chapter of Kzekiel, speaking of Egypt, it is said (ver. 11), “No foot of man should pass through it, nor foot of beast should pass through it; neither — ) shall it be inhabited for forty years.” This is what neverPART 11. | THE AGE OF REASON. 113 came to pass, and consequently it is false, as all the books I have already reviewed are. I here close this part of the sub- ject. In the former part of the Age of Reason I have spoken of Jonah, andof the story of him and the whale. A fit story for ridicule, if it was written to be believed; or of laughter, if it was intended to try what credulity could swallow; for, if it could swallow Jonah and the whale, it could swallow anything. But, as isalready shown in the observations on the book of Job and of Proverbs, it is not always certain which of the books in the Bible are originally Hebrew, or only transla- tions from books of the Gentiles into Hebrew; and, as the book of Jonah, so far from treating of the affairs of the Jews, says nothing upon that subject, but treats altogether of the Gentiles, it is more probable that it is a bookof the Gentiles than of the Jews; and that it has been written as a fable, to expose the nonsense and satirize the vicious and malignant character of a Bible prophet or a predicting priest. Jonah is represented, first, as a disobedient prophet, run- ning away from his mission and taking shelter aboard a vessel of the Gentiles, bound from Joppa to Tarshish; as if he ignorantly supposed, by such a paltry contrivance, he could hide himself where God could not find him. The vessel is overtaken by a storm at sea; and the mariners, all of whom are Gentiles, believing it to be a judgment, on ac- count of some one on board who had committed a crime, agreed to cast lots to discover the offender; and the lot fell upon Jonah. But, before this, they had cast all their wares and merchandise overboard to lighten the vessel, while Jonah, like a stupid fellow, was fast asleep in the hold. After the lot had designated Jonah to be the offender; they questioned him to know who and what he was? and he told them he was an Hebrew, and the story implies that he confessed himself to be guilty. But these Gentiles, instead of sacrificing him at once, without pity or mercy, as a com- pany of Bible prophets or priests would have done by a Gentile in the same case, and as it is related Samuel had done by Agag, and Moses by the women and children, they endeavored to save him, though at the risk of their own lives; for the account says: ‘ Nevertheless (that is, though Jonah 8 Sishbletges Petes Coke ek eres) tanta sit detoanen ete ttt L soiree tes Peo) ee114 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. was a Jew and a foreigner, and the cause of all their misfor- tunes, and the Joss of their cargo (the men rowed hard to bring the boat to land, but they could not, for the sea : the Still, however, Ww rought and was tempestuous against the m.” Still, howeve: they were unwilling to put the fate of the lot into execution; and they cried ( ys account) u nto the Lord, Saya: “We beseech thee, O Lord, let us not perish for this man’s life, and lay not t upon us innocent bloo l;. for thou, ©: ilord, hast done as it pleased thee.” Meaning thereby, that they did not presume to judge Jonah guilty y, since that he micht be innocent; yut that they considered the lot that had fallen upon him as a decree of God, or as it pleased God. Lhe address of this prayer shows that the Gentiles worshiped one Supreme Being, anil that they were not idolators as the Jews represented tiem to be. But the storm still continu- ing, and the danger incr asing, they put the fate of the lot into executi ion, ar nd cast « h into the sea; where, according to the story, a great fish swallowed him up v whole and alive. We have now to consider Jonah securely housed from the storm in the fish’s belly. Here we are told th an he prayed; but the prayer is a made-up prayer, taken from various parts of the Psalms, y vith ut any connection or consistency, and adapted to the di pie but not at all to’ the condition, that Jonah was in. It is such a prayer as a Gentile, who might know something of the ne £ ae could copy out for him. This circumstance us were there no other, is sufficient to indi- cate that the ole is a ae story. The prayer, how- ever, is sapeeeed to have answered the purpose, and the story goes on, (taking up at the same time the cant lan- guage of a Bi ble prophet,) pages dias Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon dry land.” Jonah then received a second mission to Nineveh, with which he sets out and we have now to consider him as a preacher. The distress he is represented to have suffered, ao remembrance of his own disobedience as the cause of it, and the miraculous escape he is supposed to have had, were aie, one would conceive, to have impressed him with sympathy and benevolence in the execution of his mis ssion; but, instead of this, he enters the city with denunciation and maledict ion in his mouth, crying: “ Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown.” We have now to consider this supposed missionary in the +} bi 1 RRee rl PART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 115 last act of his mission; and here it is thdt the malevolent spirit of a Bible- -prophet, or ofa predicting priest, appears in all that blackness of character that men aseribe to the being they call the devil. Having published his predictions, he withdrew, savs the story, to the eas st side of the c ity. But for what? not to con- template, in retirement, the mercy = his Creator to himself 4 BP it ea etane : ial : p or to others, but to wai It, with malignant impatience, the +e . re oO Dey ‘3 destruction of Nineveh. It came to pass, however, as the : r ralateas h. h NGS a c i story relates, that the Ninevites reformed. and that G od, ac- eOYr lin SVT -} » R} ] 1-por x "OO tO } nt -he XT j cording to the Bible-phrase, repented him of the evil he had said he would do unto them, and did it not. This, aati the first verse of the last chapter, displeased Jonah exceedingly and he was very angry. His obdurate heart would rather that Nineveh should be destroyed, and every soul, young and ol l, perish i in its ruins, than that his prediction should not be fulfilled. To expose the character of a prophet stilf more, a gourd is made to grow up in the night, that promises him an agreeable shelter from the heat of the sun, in the place to which he is retired; and the next m ring it dies. Here the rage of the prophet becomes excessive, and he is ready to destroy himself. “It is better, said he, for me to die than to live.” This brings on a supposegl ex xpostula ution between the Almighty and the prophet; in which the former says, “ Dost thou well to be angry for the gourd? And Jonah captale do well to be angry even unto death; then said the Lord, Thou hast had pity on the a oe for inde thou hast not labored, neither madest it to grow, which came up ina night, and perishe din a night; and should not I spare Nine- veh, t that great city, in which are more than threescore thous- and persons, that cannot discern between their right hand and their left?” Here is both the winding up of the satire, and the moral of the fable. Asa satire, it strikes against the character of all the Bible prophets, and against all the indiscriminate judgments upon men, women and children, with shih this lying book, the Bible, is crowded; such as Noah’s flood, the destruction of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, the ex tirpation of the Canaanites, even to sucking infants, and women with child, because the same reflection, that there are more than three-score thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left, meaning young oO ror eeeees: eee Lok ere 2) Poe see tes See ee Pater et et : o's ros settee MEE eS ESS ULE EES bay TFC Pt Pee ay ag116 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART IL children, applies’to all their cases. It satirizes, also, the sup- posed partiality of the Creator for one nation more than for another. at As a moral, it preaches against the malevolent spirit of prediction; for, as certainly as a man predicts ill, he becomes inclined to wish it. The pride of having his judgment right hardens his heart, till at last he beholds with satisfaction, or sees with disappointment, the accomplishment or the failure of his predictions. This book ends with the same kind of strong and well-directed point against prophets, prophecies and indiscriminate judgments as the chapter that Benjamin Hranklin made for the Bible, about Abraham and the stranger, ends against the intolerant spirit of religious persecution, Thus much for the book Jonah. Of the poetical parts of the Bible that are called prophe- cies, I have spoken in the former part of the Age of Reason, and already in this, where I have said that the word prophet is the Bible word for poet, and that the flights and metaphors of those poets, many of which have become obscure by the lapse of time and the change of circumstances, have been ridiculously erected into things called prophecies, and applied to purposes the writers never thought of. When a priest quotes any of those passages, he unriddles it agreeably to his own views, and imposes that explanation upon his congrega- tion as the meaning of the writer. The Whore of Babylon has been the common whore of all the priests, and each has accused the other of keeping the strumpet—so well do they agree in their explanations. There now remain only a few books, which they call s of the lesser prophets; and, as I have already shown that the greater are impostors, it would be cowardice to dis- turb the repose of the little ones. Let them sleep, then, in the arms of their nurses, the priests, and both be forgotten together. I have now gone through the Bible,as a man would go through a wood with an axe on his shoulder, and fell trees. Here they lie; and the priests, if they can, may replant them. They may, perhaps, stick them in the ground, but they will never make them grow. I pass on to the books of the New Testament.TEE NEW TESTAMEN The New Testament, they tell us, is founded upon, the prophecies of the Old; if so, it must follow the fate of its foundation. As it is nothing extraordinary that a woman should be with child before she is married, and that the son she micht bring forth should be executed, even unjustly, I see no reason for not believing that such a woman as Mary, and such aman as Joseph, and Jesus, existed; their mere exist- ence 1s a matter of indifference about which there is no ground either to believe or to disbelieve, and which comes under the common head of Zé may be so; and what then ? The probability, however, is that there were such persons, or at least such as resembled them in part of the circum- stances, because almost all romantic stories have been sug- gested by some actual circumstance; as the adventures of Robinson Crusoe, not a word of which is true, were sug gested by the case of Alexander Selkirk. It is not the existence, or non-existence, of the persons that I trouble myself about; it is the fable of Jesus Christ, as told in the New Testament, and the wild and visionary doctrine raised thereon, against which I contend. The story, taking it as it is told, is blasphemously obscene. It gives an account of a young woman engaged to be married, and, while under this engagement, she is, to speak plain language, debauched by a ghost, under the impious pretense (Luke, chap. 1, ver. 35,) that “the Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee.” Not- withstanding which Joseph afterwards marries her, cohabits with her as his wife, and in his turn rivals the ghost. This is putting the story into intelligible language, and, when told in this manner, there is not a priest but must be ashamed to own it.* * Mary, the supposed virgin mother of Jesus, had several other childrasy, sous and daughters. See Matt., chap. xiii., 55, 56. 117 Peer t ores 3 PPC oT ST erie er ere 21 AGESt ES GES State PSs er tees eg cuca sen eg esii re roe 2 PahaEEL Et et re ei retiitt tise i SM eet e ests 118 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART II. Obscenity in matters of faith, however wrapped up, is always a token of fable and imposture; for it is necessary to our serious belief in God, that we do not connect it with stories that run, as this does, into ludicrous interpretations. This story is, upon the face of it, the same kind of story as that of Jupiter and Leda, or Jupiter and Europa, or any of the amorous adventures of Jupiter; and shows, as is already stated in the former part of the Age of Reason, that the Christian faith is built upon the heathen mythology. As the historical parts of the New Testament, so far as concerns Jesus Christ, are confined to a very short space of time, less than two years, and all within the same country, and nearly in the same spot, the discordance of time, place and circumstance, which detects the fallacy of the books of the Old Testament, and proves them to be impositions, can- not be expected to be found here in the same abundance. The New Testament compared with the Old, is like a farce of One act, in which there is not room for very numerous violations of the unities. There are, however, some glaring conditions, which, exclusive of the fallacy of the pretended prophecies, are sufficient to show the story of Jesus Christ to be false. I lay it down as 4 position which cannot be controverted, first, that the agreement of all the parts of a story does not prove that story to be true, because the parts may agree, and the whole may be false; secondly, that the disagreement of the parts of a story proves the whole cannot be true. The agree- ment does not prove truth, but the disagreement proves false- hood positively. The history of Jesus Christ is contained in the four books ascribed to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, The first chap- ter of Matthew begins with giy ing a genealogy of Jesus Christ, and in the third chapter of Luke there is given a genealogy of Jesus Christ. Did these tw igree, 1t would not prove the gene- alogy to be true, because it might, nevertheless, be a fabri- cation ; but as they contradict each other in every particular, it proves falsehood ab: lutely. If Matthew speaks truth, Luke speaks falsehood: and if Luke speaks truth, Matthew speaks falsehood; and as there is no authority for believing one more than the er, there is no authority for believing either; and if they cannot be believed even in the very first thing they say, and set out to prove, they are not entitled toPART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. BLD be believed in anything they say afterwards. Truth is an uniform thing; and as to inspiration and revelation, were we to admit it, it is impossible to suppose it can | 2 = 5 fe! ye contradictory. Hither, then, the men called apostles are impostors, or the books ascribed to them have been written by other persons, and fathered upon them, as is the case with the Old Testa- ment. The book of Matthew gives, chap. by name from David, up through Joseph, the husband of makes there to be twenty-erght genera- Luke gives also a genealogy by name Joseph, the husband of Mary, down to Mary, to Christ; and The book of from Christ, through tions. 1, ver. 6, a genealogy David, and makes there to be forty-three generations; besides which, there are only the two names of David and Joseph that are alike in the two lists. ical lists, and for t Genealogy, according to Matthew. 2 3 23 24 Christ. Joseph. Jacob. Matthan. Eleazer. Eliud. Achim, Sadoc. AZOr. Eliakim. Abiud. ZorobabelkL Salathiel. Jechonias, J osias. Amon. Manasses. Ezekias. Achaz. Joatham. Ozas. Joram, J osaphat. Asa. ] ty Cua } 41 “OY ‘ | here insert both genealog- he sake of perspicuity and comparison, have placed them both in the same direction, that is, from Joseph down to David. 24 Genealogy, according to Luke. Christ. Joseph. Heli. Matthat. Le v1. Melchi. Janna. Joseph, Mattathias, Amos. Naum. Ksli. Nagge. Maath. Mattathias, Semei. Joseph. Juda. Joanna, Rhesa. ZorobabeL Salathiel. Neri. Melchi. ais eee! Coe ere 2! Cee ae helt een SE 1s teeter eee re + Pees LeePere teseie Shir he} ae iat 120 | THE AGE OF REASON. [PART It. Genealogy, according to Genealogy, according to Matthew. Luke. 25 Abia. 25 Addi. 26 Roboam. 26 Cosam. 27 Solomon, 27 Elmodam, 28 David.* 28 Er. 29 Jose. 80 Eliezer. 81 Jorim. a 82 Matthat. 83 Levi. 84 Simeon, 85 Juda, 86 Joseph. 87 Jonan. 88 Elakim., 89 Melea. 40 Menan. 41 Mattatha, 42 Nathan. 48 David. Now, if these men, Matthew and Luke, set out with a falsehood between them (as these two accounts show they do) in the very commencement of their history of Jesus Christ, and of whom, and of what he was, wl (as I have before asked) is there left for belie things they tell us afterwards? If they cannot be believed in their account of his natural genealogy, how are we to believe them when they tell us he was the son of God, be- gotten by a ghost, and that an angel announced this in secret to his mother? If they lied in one genealogy, why are we to believe them in the other? If his natural be manufactured, which it certainly is, why are not we to sup- pose that his celestial genealogy is manufactured also, and that the whole is fabulous? Can any man of serious reflec- ness upon the belief of a story tion hazard his future happin naturally impossible, repugnant to every idea of decency, lat authority ving the strange * From the birth of David to the birth of Christ is upwards of 1080 years, and ag the lifetime of Christ is not included, there are but 27 full generations. To pe therefore, the average of each person mentioned in the list at the time hia firs son was born, it is only necessary to divide 1080 by 27, each person. As the lifetime of man was then } is an absurdity to suppose that 27 fol] } which gives 40 years for jut of the same extent it is now, it J owing generations should all be old bache- lors before they married: and the more so when we are told that Solomon, the next in succession to David. had a house full of wives and mistresres before he was 2] years of age. So far from this genealogy being a solemn truth, itis not even a reasonable lie. The list of Luke gives about 26 years for the average age, and this is too much,PART II. ] THE AGE OF REASON. 121 and related by persons already detected of falsehood? Is it not more safe that we stop ourselves at the plain, pure and unmixed belief of one God, which is deism, than that we commit ourselves on an ocean of improbable, irrational, inde- cent and contradictory tales? The first question, however, upon the books of the New Testament, as upon those of the Old, is, are they genuine? Were they written by the persons to eee they are ascribed ? for it is upon this ground only that the strange ‘thin os related therein have been credited. Upon this point there is no direct proof for or ag vinst, and all that this state of a case proves is doubif sand doubtfulness is the opposite of belief. The etd "there ofore, that the books are in proves against themselves, as far as pute kind of proof can go. But, exclusive of fli: the p esumption is that the books called ‘the Evangelists, and ascribed to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, were not written by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John; and that they are impositions, The disordered state of the history in these four books, the silence of one book upon matters related in the other, and the disagreement that is to be found among them, implies that they are the pro- duction of some unconnected individuals, many years after the things they pores to relate, each of whom made his own legend; and not the writings of men living intimately together, as the men called apostles are supposed to have done; in fine, that fine have. been manufactured, as the books of the Old Testament have been, by other persons than those whose names they bear. The story of the angel announcing what the church calls the immaculate conception is ae so much as mentioned in the books ascribed to Mar! : and John, and is differ- ently related in Matthew and Luke. The f angel appeared to Joseph; iti tater says it was to Mary; but eitl ier, Joseph or Mary, was the worst evidence that could have been thought of; for it was others that should have testified for them, and not they for themselves. Were we girl that is now with child to say, and even to swear it, that she was gotten with child by a ghost, and ats an angel told her so, would she be believed? Certainly she would not. . W e then are we to believe the same thing of another girl whom we never saw, told by nobody knows who, nor when, nor where? How strange and inconsistent former says the’ eet rire titer et seeahiges Peres a east sest es eedeters es sg sreedseiit ae | PRPS Ph Poe be122 THE AGE OF REASON. (PART 11. is it, that the same circumstance that would weaken the be- lief even of a probable story, should be given as a motive for believing this one, that has upon the face of it every token of absolute impossibility and imposture? The story of Herod destroying all the children under two years old, belongs altogether to the book of Matthew; not one of the rest mentions anything about it. Had such a cir- cumstance been true, the universality of it must have made it known to all the writers; and the thing would have been too striking to have been omitted by any. This writer tells us, that Jesus escaped this slaughter, because Joseph and Mary were warned by an angel to flee with him into Kepyt; but he forgot to make any provision for Johu who was then under two years of age. John, however, who staid behind, fared as well as Jesus, who fled; and, therefore, the story e eo circumstantially belies itself. Not any two of these writers agree in reciting, exactly in the same words, the written inscription, short as it is, which they tell us was put over Christ when he was crucified; and besides this, Mark says, He was crucified at the third hour (nine in the morning;) and John says it was the sixth hour, (twelve at noon.*) The inscription is thus stated in those books: t \ i Matthew—This is Jesus the king of the Jews. Mark———The king of the Jews. Luke———This is the king of the Jews. J ohn———Jesus of Nazareth king of the Jews. We may infer from these circumstances, trivial as they are, that those writers, whoever they were, and in whatever time they lived, were not present at the scene. The only one of the men, called apostles, who appears to have been near the spot, was Peter, and when he was accused of being one of Jesus’ followers, it is said, (Matthew, chap. xxvi. ver. 74) “Then Peter | not the man!” yet we are now called upon to believe the same Peter, convicted, by their own account, of perjury. For what reason, or on what authority, shall we do this? The accounts that are given of the circumstances, that they vegan to curse and to swear, saying, I know *According to John, the sentence was not passed till about the sixth honr, (noon,) and. consequently, the execution could not be till the afternoon; but Mark says. expressly, that be wag crucified at the third hour (nine in the morn- ing,) Chap. xv. 25, John chap. xix. ver. 14.PART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 123 four | De Oks. mm} Ine book ascribed to Matthew says, “There was darkness over all the land from the sixth Hoan unto the ninth hour— that the véil of the pomple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom—that there was an earthquake tell us attended the crucifixion, are differently related in those that tl 1e rocks the coe of m: any of the saints Lhe Lt slept arose and ¢ca me out of their graves after the Sennen and went into the holy city ee appeared unto many.” Such is the account w vhi ich this dashi no writer of aS: iS ~ c - | the beok of Matthew gives, but in which he is not supported by the writers of the other Te 1 ’ books. The writer of the bo a ascribed to Mark, in detailing the circumstances of the crucifixion, m: ener q rent—that the graves opened, that nakes no mention of any earthquake, nor of the rocks rending, nor of the graves eee nor of the dead men walking out. The writer of the book of Luke is silent also upon the same points. And as to the writer of the book of J; dhn, though he details all the circumstances of the crucifixion dogan to the burial of Christ, he says nothing about either the dar kness—the veil of the temple—the earthquake—the rocks—the graves nor the dead men. Now if it had been true, that those things had ha appened; and if the writers of these books had lived at the time they did happen, and had been the persons they are said to be, } namely, the four men called apostles, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, it was not possible for them, as true historians, even without the aid of Inspire ation, not to have recorded them. The things, supposing them Be have been facts, were of too much notoriety not to have been known, and ae too much importance not to have been told. Al] these sup- posed apostles must have been witnesses of the eart] hquake, if there had been any; for it was not possible for them to have been absent from it; the opening of the graves and resurrection of the dead men, and their walking about the city is of greater in iportance than the earthquake. An earthquake “is al 'ways possible, and natural, and_ proves nothing; but this opening of the graves is supernatural, and directly in point to their doctri ne, their cause, and their apostleship. Had it been true, it would have filled up whole chapters of those books, and been the chosen theme and general chorus of all the writers; but instead of Pye) PIttiesreriereeer sy beer se Ss oe ks i PeReASEEE eS Ia SLED bate | ores tie bees > eeueeets >124 THE AGE OF REASON. | PART II. this, little and trivial things, and mere pratt ling conversations of, he said this and she said that ¢, are olten tedious! detailed, ae le this most important of all, had it been eaten is passed off in a slovenly merit’ er by a single dash of the pen, and that by one writer only, and not so much as hinted at by the rest. It is an easy thing to tell a lie, but it is difficult to support the lie after it is told. The writer of the book of Matthew sone have told us who the saints were that came to life gain, and went into - city, and what became of them afterwards, and who it was that saw them; for he is not hardy enough to say that he saw them himself; whether they came out naked and all in natural buff, he-saints and she-saints; or whether they came full dressed, and where they got their dresses; whether they went to their former habitations, and reclaimed their wives, their husbands, and their property, and how they were received; whether they entered eject- ments for the recovery of their possessions, or brows] ht actions of crim. con. against the rival interlopers; whether they remained on earth, and followed their former occupation of preaching or working; or whether they died again, or went back to their graves alive, and buried themselves. Strange indeed, that an army of saints should return to life, and nobody know who they were, nor who it was that saw them, and that not a word more shoul i be said upon the subject, nor these saints have anything Es tell us! Had it been the prophets who (as we are told) had formerly prophesied of these things, they must have had a great deal to say. They could have told us ever rything, and we should have had posthumous prophe cie s, with notes and commen- taries upon the first, a little better, at least, than we have now. Had it been Moses, and Aaron, and Joshua, and Samuel, and David, not an aie converted Jew had remained in all Jerusalem. Had it been John the Baptist, and the saints of the time then present, everybody would have known them, and they would have out-preached and out- famed all the other apostles. But, instead of this, these saints are made to pop up, like Jonah’s gourd in the nicht, for no purpose at all but to wither in the morning. ‘Thus much for this part of the story. The tale of the resurrection follows that of the crucifix- ion; and in tbis as well as in that, the writers, whoever they> rn 1 PART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 125 were, disagree so much, as to make evident that none of them were there. Che book of Matthew states that when Christ was put in ¥ > *O T 7G y = tc aye - the sepulchre, the Jews applied ce for a watch ora | ae Pea lea Atl Wie aw 4 guard to be placed over the sepulcl , tO prevent the body ] ae a) ane c being stolen by the disciples ; and th Lat, in consequence ol this request, the sepulchre was made sure, sealing the stone that covered the Be uth, and setting a watch. But the other books say ae au] bout this appl ice ing, nor the guard, nor the wate ation, nor about the seal- he aa according to their accounts, there were none. Matthew, however, follows up this part of the story of the guard or the watch with a second part, that I shall notice in the conclusion, as it serves to detect the fallacy of Hone books. The book of Ma utthew continues its account, and says, (chap. XXViil., rer. 1,) t that at the end of the Sabbath, as it yegan to dawn, tow: ails the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the othe agope to see the sepulchre. Mark says it was sun-rising, and John says it was dark. Luke says it was Mary Magy ibe ne and Joanna, and Mary the mother of James, and other women, ae came to the sepulchre; and van states that Mary Magd lalene came alone. So well do they agree about their first evidence! they all, however, appear to have known most about Mary Magdale nes she was a woman of large acquaintance, and it was not an D5 } L 1 | } ill conjecture that she might be upon the stroll. The book of Matthew goes on to say, (ver. 2,) “And behold there was a great earthquake, for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it.” But the other books say nothing about any earthquake, nor about the angel roll- ing back the stone, and sitting upon it; and, according to their account, there was no angel sitting there. Mark says the angel was within the sepulchre, sitting on the right side. Luke says there were two, and they were both standing up; and John says they were both sitting down, one at the head and the other at the feet. Matthew says, that the angel that was sitting upon the stone on the outside of the sepule shre, told the two Marys that Christ was risen, and that the women went away quickly. Mark says, that the women, upon seeing the stone rolled away, and wondering at it, went into the sep- Pe FERAL LRAT Sag ce Ee Deas tt ts toca soit aeetanars Tr ere ee ee rer eT TT eke se he te ladve* oe Pepsi clea ee phe ts 126 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART Ir. ulchre, and that it was the angel that was sitting within on the right side, that told them so. Luke says it was the two 32! igels that were stant ling up; and John says it was Jesus Christ h imself ae told it tO M: Ary Ma 1odalene e5 and that she did not go into the sepulchre, but only stooped down and looked in. Now. if the writers of these four books had gone into a court of justice to prove an alibi, lor itis of the nature of an alibi that 1s here attempted to be prov red, namely, the absence of a dead body by supernatural mea, ) and had they given on evidence in the same contradic ory manner as itis here given, they would have been in danger oF hav- 1 l ing their ears cro} pped for perjury, and woulc d ha e justly deserved it. Yet this is the ey vidence, and east are the books that have been imposed upon the world as being given by divine inspiration, and as the unchangeable word of God. The writer of the book of Matthew, after giving this account, relates a story that is not to be found in any of the other books, and which is the same I have just before alluded to. ““ Now,” says he, (thatis, after the conversation the women had had with the angel sitting upon the stone,) “ behold some of the watch (meaning the watch that he had said had been placed over the sepulchre) came into the city, and showed unto the chief priests all the things that were done; and when they were assembled with the elders, and had taken counsel, they gave large money unto the soldiers, say- ing, Say ye that his disciples came by night, and stole him away while we sle pt; and if this come to the governor’s ears we will persuade him, and secure you. So they took the money, and did as they were taught; and this saying (that his disciples stole him away) is commonly repor ted among: the Jews until this day.’ The expression, ? until this day, is an evidence that the book ascribed to Matthew was not written by Matthew, and that it has been manufactured long after the times and things of which it pretends to treat; for the expression implies a great length of intervening time. It would be inconsistent in us to speak in this manner of anything happening 1 in our own time. To give, therefore, inte lligible meaning to the expression, we must suppose a lapse of some generations, atPART II. ] THE AGE OF REASON. 127 £ A anon Pips 38 : eee ieast, for this manner ol speaking « carries the e mind | ancient tlme. The absurdity, oO of the stc ory 1s worth noticing; for it Shows the writer of 1¢ book of Matthew to have been an exceedingly weak and foolish man. He tells a story that ‘h Ai aia teat’ sos i 6 Agen Sat pat contradicts itself in PoInt oj possibility ; LOr, thoug 1 the guard, if there were any, might be made to say that the body was taken away while they were asleep, and to iy sl as a reason for their not having event it, that same sle 2p must also have prevented their knowing | how, and by eu m it was done; and yet they are nade to say that it was nes Seas who did it. Were a man to tender his . vi- dence of something that he SALA eee rad Aa ie Ou Say VaS aone, and OL 17 a . = tes the manner of doing it t, and of the person who did j it, while I e he was asleep, and could now noth no g of the matter, suc evidence could not be receive vill do well enough for W J Testament evide nce, but not for anything where truth is con- cerned, I come now to that part of the evide al: On § p D S ) that respects the prete nded appearance of Chiat after this preten ded resurrection. The writer of the book of Matthew relates th: at the angel that was sitting on the stone at the mouth of the sepul- chre said to the two Mar rys, chap. x x xVul., Ver. (5 “ie hold, Christ is gone before you into Galilee, there ye shall see him; lo, I have told you.” And the same writer at the next two verses, (8, 9,) makes Christ himself to speak to the Same purpose to these women imme lately after the angel had told it to them, and that the y ran quickly to tell it to the disciples; and at the 16th verse it is said, “Then the eleven disciples went away into Gallilee, into a mountain where Jesus had appointed them; and when they saw him, they worshiped him.” But the writer of the book ‘of John tells us a story very different to this; for he says, enap. Kx. ver, 19: “Then the same day, at evening, being the first day of the week, (that is, the same ay th at Christ is said to have risen) when the doors were shut, where the disciples were assemblec 1, for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst of them.” According to Matthew, the eleven were marching to Gal- ilee, to meet Jesus in a mountair 1, by his own appoin itment, at the very time when, according tbe John, they were assem- IPC ST SY Eri ee rire ss eer re ers eek ks Tore es ore elegeeege ide128 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART IL. bled in another place, and that not by appointment, but in ‘ » > T secret, for fear of the Jews. The writer of the book of Luke contradicts that of Mat- 1 ; f° | as ra — TON thew more pointe dly than John does; for he says expressly that the meeting was in Jerusalem, t the evening of ihe same day that he (Christ) rose, and that the eleven were there. See Luke, i. xxiv. ver. 13, 33. 0S ‘ble’ unless we admit these supposed willful lying, that the writer of these Ne OW, it is not dis isciples the rich > >?) : ~ +} > ¥ Tanne. agli, 1 Aianir ° books could be any of the eleven persons called disciples; for if, according to Matthe ew, the ¢ leven went into Galilee to meet Jesus in a mountain by his own appointment, on the same day that he is said to have risen, Luke and Jopn must have been two of that eleven; yet the writer of Luke says expressly, and John implies as much, that the meeting was that same day, in a house in Jerusalem; and, on the other | hand, if, according to Luke and John, the edeven were assem- bled in a house in Jerusalem, Matthew must have been one of that eleven; yet Matthew says the meeting was in a moun- ‘nik 1 In Galilee, and conse quently the e svidence given in those books destroys each other. The writer of the book e Mark says nothing about any meeting in Galilee; but he says, chap. xvi. ver. 12; that Christ, ‘after his resurrectio n, app eared in another form to two of them, as they walked into the country, and that these two told it to the residue, who would not believe them. Luke also tells a story, in which he keeps Christ employed the whole of the day of this pretended es until the evening, and which totally invalidates the account of going to the mountain in Galilee. He says, that two of them, without saying which two, Hie: that same day to’ a village called Emmaus, threescore furlongs (seven miles and a half) from Jerusalem, and that Christ, ; in disguise, went with them, and staid with them unto the evening, and supped with them, aud then vanished out of their sight, and re “ap- peared that same evening at the meeting of the eleven in Jerusalem. This is the contradictory manner in which the evidence: of this pretended re >-appeal ance of Christ is stated; the only point in which the writers agree, is the skulking privacy of that re- appearanc e; for whethe 2r it was in the recess of a mountain in Galilee, or in a shut-up house in Jerusalem, itPART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 129 ad was still skulki ing. To what cause then are we to assi on this skulking? On the one hand, it is dire sctly repugnant to the supposed or pretended ere at of convincing the world that Christ was risen; and, on the other hand, to ‘have assert- ed the publicity of it, ould have expose .d the writers of those books to public detection, and, the 2refore, they have been under the necessity of making it a private affair. As to the account of Christ bei ing seen by more than five hundred at once, it is Paul only who says “(il and not the five hundred who say it for themselves. It i is, WCEOIOLE, the tes- timony of but one man, and that too of a ma 1, who did not, according to the same account, believe a et of the matter himself, at the time it is ‘said to have happe 2ned. His evi- dence, Supposing him to have been the writer of the 15th chapter of © orinthia ns, where this account is given, is like that of a man who comes into a court of justice to swear, that what he had sworn before is false. A man may often see reason, and he has, too, always the right of changing his opinion; but this liberty does not extend to matters of fact. I now come to the last scene, that of the ascension into heaven. Here all fear of the Jews, and of everything else must necessarily have been out of the question: it was that which, if true, ¥ yas to seal the whole; and upon which the reality of the future mission of the mee was to rest for roof. W ords, whether declarations or promises, that passed in private, either in the recess of a mountain in Galilee, or in a shut-up house in Jerusalem, even supposing them to have been spoken, could not be evidence in public; it was there- fore necessary that thi 11S last scene should preclude the possi- bility of denial and disp ute; and that it should be, as I have stated in the former idee of the Age of Reason, as public ia as visible as the sun at noon-day: at least it ought to have been as public as the crucifixion is reported to have been. But to come to the point. In the first | place, the writer of the book of not Say a syllable about wD neither does the v book of John. This being the case, is it possibl that those writers s, whc affe ct to be even minute in other matters, would have been silent upon tls had it been true? The writer o 1e book o Mark passes it off in a careless, na single dash ire the pen, as if he was Matthew does eriter of the e€ to suppose 9 ibe Sr el ClarT terest tee © Poet) ttre hee ee Perr er tes SIs HES Ses ebehtatdt ste tt its ies oe siete Sgis130 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART EH. tired of romancing, or ashamed of the story. So also does the writer of Luke. And even between these two, there is not an apparent agreement, as to t the place where i hee final wy parting is said to have been. mie book of Mark says that Christ ap pear ed to the eleven YY CAs S Y ‘ + laa } Ina A a as they sat at meat; aliuding to the eee oi the: _eleve an J 7 } L ig ef eee UREA NE oy eee at Jerusalem: ne then states the conversation t © passed at that meeting; and immediately after cays ae a school-boy would finish a dull tory) “ So then, after the Lord had s spoken unto them, he was received up into heaven and sat on the right hand of God.” et the writer of Luke the ascension was from Bethany; that he (Christ) says, that th % 2 eet Se ie coh yes | Sees ies led them out as far as Bethany, and was parted from them p e, 1 there, and wa scarriec upinto heaven. Soalso was Mahomet: 7 T x : ; ( FIN eee P and, as to Moses, the apostle Jude says, ver. 9, That Michael 9 ; and the devil d isputed about his bi sly. While we believe such fables as these, or either of them, we believe aeoae of the Almighty. I have now gone through the examination of the four books ascribed to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John; and when it is considered that the whole space of time from the cruci- fixion to what is called the ascension, is but a few days, apparently not more than three or four, and that all the circumstances are said to have happened nearly about the same spot, Jerusalem; it is, I beli eve, impossible to find, in any story upon record, so many and such glaring absurdities, contradictions s, and fal: sehoo ls, as are in those books. They are more numerous and striking than I had any expectation of finding, when I began this “examination, and far more so than I had any idea of when I wrote the former part of the Age io feason. I had then neither Bible nor Testament to refer to, nor. could I procure any. My own situation, even as to existence, was becoming every day more prec carious; and as J was willing to leave somet! ing behind me upon the subject, I was ob! iged to be quick and concise. The quota- ions r then made were from memory only, but they are e correct; and the opinions I have advanced in that work are . the effect of the most clear and lon ig-established conviction that the Bible and the Testament are im positions upon the world, that the fall of man, the account of J esus Christ being the Son of God, and of his dying to appease the wrath of God, and of salvation by that strange means, are all fabulous a}PART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 131 inventions, dishonorable to the ‘wisdom and power of the Almighty—that the only true religion is Deism, | by which I then mea nt, and now mean, the belief of one God, and an imitation of his moral character, or the practice of what are called moral virtues—and that it was upon this only (s o far as religion is conce eas that I rested all my hopes of hap- piness hereafter. So s: ay | now—and so help me God. But to return to the subject Though it is impossible, at this distance of time, to asc artain as a fact who were the writers of those four books (and this alone is sufficient to hold them in doubt, and wh 1ere we doubt we do not believe) it is Het difficult to ascertain negative ly that pre were not written by the persons to whom they are ascribed. The contradictions in those books demonstrate two th hings First, that the writers cannot have been eye-Wi itnesses and eal ath eases of the matters they re late, or th iey would have related them without those contradictions " and, conse- quently, that the books have not been written by the per- sons called apostles, who are supposed to have been witnesses of this kind. Secondly, that the writers, ee they were, have not acted in concerted ae 1, but each writer separately and individually for himself, ou without the knowledge of the other. The same evidence that ae to prove the one, applies equally to prove both cases; that is, that the books were not written by the men called apostles, and also that they are not a concerted imposition. As to inspiration, it is altogether out of the question; and we may as well attempt to unite truth and falsehood, as inspiration and contradic- tion. If four men are eye-witnesses and ear-witnesses to a scene, they will, pInBO UY any concert between them, agree as to time and place, when and where that scene happened. Their individual knowledge of the thing, each one kn ywing it for himself, renders concert totally unnecessary; the one will not say it was in a mountain in the country, and the other at a house in town: the one will not say it was at sun-rise, and the other it was dark. For in whatever place it was, at whatever time it was, they know it equally alike. And, on the other hand, if four men concert a story, they will make their separate relations of that story agree, and rt PEPAPLERSA PIAS RSE Te —7 ott Stesaser ress? +s4* ereesteet cose seer ee 4 PhS eS PE PDL132 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART II. corroborate with each other to support the whole. That concert supplies the want of fact In the one case, as the knowledge of the fact supersedes, in the other case, the necessity of aconcert. The same contradictions, therefore, that prove there has been no concert, prove, also, that the reporters had no knowledge of the fact, (or rather of that which they relate as a fact,) and detect also the falsehood of their reports. Those books, therefore, have neither been written by the men called apostles, nor by impostors in con- cert. How then have they been written? I am not one of those who are fond of believing there is much of that which is called willful lying, or lying originally, except in the case of men setting up to be prophets, as in the Old Testament; for prophesying is lying professionally. In almost all other cases it is not difficult to discover the progress by which even simple supposition, with the aid of credulity, will, in time, grow into a lie, and at last be told as a fact; and, whenever we can find a charitable reason for a thing of this kind, we ought not to indulge a severe one. The story of Jesus Christ appearing after he was dead, is the story of an apparition, such as timid imaginations can always create in vision, and credulity believe. Stories of this kind had been told of the assassination of Julius Cezesar, not many years before, and they generally have, their origin in violent deaths, or in the execution of innocent persons. In cases of this kind, compassion lends its aid, and benevo- lently stretches the story. It goes on a little and a little further, till it becomes @ most certain truth. Once start a ghost, and credulity fills up the history of its life, and assions the cause of its appearance! one tells it one way, another another way, till there are as many stories about the ghost, and about the proprietor of the ghost, as there are about Jesus Christ in these four books. — The story of the appearance of Jesus Christ js told with that strange mixture of the natural and impossible that dis- tinguishes legendary tale from fact. He is represented as suddenly coming in and going out when the doors are shut, and of vanishing out of sight, and appearing again, as one would conceive of an unsubstantia] vision; then again he is hungry, sits down to meat, and eats his supper. But as those who tell stories of this kind never provide for all the cases, so it is here; they have told us, that when he arosePART II. ] THE AGE OF REASON. 13 he left his grave-clothes behind him; but they have forgot- ten to provide other clothes for ha to appear in after- wards, or tell to us what he did with them when: he: ascended, whether he sipped all off, or went up clothes and all. ie the case of Elijah, they have been corel onoga to make him throw down his mantle; how it happened not to be burnt in the chariot of fire th ey also hae not told us. But, as imagination supph ies all deficiencies of file kind, we may suppose, if we please, that it was made of salaman- der’s wool. Those who are not much acquainted with ecclesiastical history may suppose that the book called the New Testa- ment has existed ever si nce the time of Jesus Christ, as they suppose that the books ascribed to Moses have ed ever since the time of Moses. But the fact is histori ically other- wise; there was no such book as the New Testament till more than three hundred years after the time that Christ is said to have lived. At what time the books ascribed to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John began to appear is altogether a Rare of uncer- tainty. There is not the least shadow of evidence of who the persons were that wrote them, nor at what time they were written; and they might as w ell have been called by the names of any of the other supposed apostles as by the names they are now called. The origin als are not in the possession of any Christian Church existing, any more than the two tables of stone written on, they pretend, by the finger of God, upon Mount Sinai, nad given to Moses, are in the possession of the Jews. And even if they were, there is n@ possibility of proving the handwriting in either case. At the time those books were written there was no print- ing, and consequently there could be no publication, other- wise than by wEtten copies, Which any man might make or alter at pleasure, and call them originals. Can we suppose it is consistent with the wisdom of the Almighty to commit himself and his will to man, upon such precari ious means as these, or that it is consiste oe we should pin our faith upon such uncertainties? We cannot ee nor alter, nor even imitate, so much as one blade of grass that he has made, and yet we can make or alter words of God as easily as words of man.* *The former part of the Age of Reason has not been published two years, and there is already an expression in itthatis notmine. The expressionis: 7’he book PP CLTETELI Ter ererreey SPST GL stste Posse tees igrsseerenissest Sagwirere itass -o.d W oe Pete e: ao tee tere Stee zataed Ph pred 134 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART Iz, About three hundred and fifty years after the time that Christ is said to have lived, several writings of the kind I am speaking of were scattered in the hands of divers indi- viduals; and, as the church had begun to form itself into an hierarchy, or church government, with temporal powers, it set itself about callecting them into a code, as we now see them, called The a ew Testament. They dee sided by vote, as | have | isefore said in the former part of the e Age of Reason, which of those writings, out of the coll Soh they had made, should be the word of God, and which should not. The Rab- bins of the Jews had decided, by vote, upon the books of the Bible before. As the object of the church, as is the case in all national stablishments of chur ches, was power and revenue, and ae the means it used if is consistent to suppose, that the most miraculous ane wonderful of the writings they had collected stood the best chance of being voted. And as to the authenticity of the books, the vote stands im the place of i; ‘for it can be traced no higher. Disputes, however, ran high among the people then calling themselves Ohachane: not only as to points of doctrine, but s to the authenti city of the books. In the contest atte een the persons called St. Augustine ana Fauste, about the year 400, the latter says, ° The books called the Ey mri ser have been composed long after the times of the apostles, by some obscure men, who, te: aring that the world would not give credit to their belation of matters of which they could not be informed, have published them under the names of the apostles; and which are so full of sottishness and discord- ant relations, that there is neither agreement nor connection between them.” And in another place, adressing himself to the advocates of those books, as being the word of God, he says, “ It is thus that your predecessors have inserted in the scriptures of our Lord, many things, which, though they carry his name, of Luke was carried by a majority of one voice only. It may be true, but it is not I that have saidit. Some person who might know the circumstance, has added it in a note at the bottom of the page of 8: me of the editions, printed either in England or in America; and the printers, after oe have erected it into the body of the work, aud made me the authorof it. If this has happened within such a short space of time, notwithstanding the aid of printing, which prevents the alteration of copies individually, what may not have happened in much greater length of time, when there was no printing, and when any man who could write could make a written copy and cail it an original, by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John?PART II. ] THE AGE OF REASON. 135 agree not with his doctrines. This is not surprising, since an } 74 tt oy, YN23Cn the thy ‘ that we have.ofien proved that these things have not been a) written by himself, nor by his apostles, but that for the greatest part they are founded upon éales, upon vague reports, ana put together by I know not what, half Jews, with but little agreement between them; and which they have neverthe- less published under the names of the apostles of our Lord and have thus attributed to them their own errors and théir lies,””* The reader will see by these extracts, that the authen- ticity of the books of the New Testament was denied, and the books treated as tales, forgeries, and lies, at the time they were voted to be the word of God. But’ the interest of the church, with the asistance of the farcot, bore down the opposition, and at last suppressed all investigation. Miracles followed upon miracles, if we will believe them, and men were taught to say they believed, whether they believed or not. h > 2 = k ° . y Ue 5 7 But (by way of throwing in a thought) the French Revolu- tion has excommunicated the church from the power of working miracles; she has not been a le, with the assistance of all her saints, to work one miracle since the revolution began; and as she never stood in greater need than now, we may, without the aid of divination, conclude that all her former miracles were tricks and lies.+ When we consider the lapse of more than three hundred * Ihave taken these two extracts from Boulanger’s Life of Paul, written in French; Boulanger has quoted them from the writings of Augustine against Fauste, to which he refers. + Boulanger, in his life of Panl, has collected from the ecclesiastical histories, and the writings of the fathers, as they are called, several matters which show the opinions that prevailed among the different sects of Christians, at the time the Testament, as we now see it, was voted to be the word of God. The following extracts are fiom the second chapter of that work: “The Marcionisis, (a Christian sect,) assured that the evangelists were filled with falsities. The Manicheus, who formed a very numerous sect at the com- mencement of Christianity, rejected as false, all the New Testament , and showed other writings quite different that they gave for authentic. The Corinthi- ans, like the Marcionists, admiited not the Acts of the Aposties. The Encra- tites, and the Sevenians, adopted neither the Acts nor the Epistles of Paul. Chrysostom, in a homily which he made upon the Acts of the Apostles, says, that in his time, about the year 400, many people knew nothing either of the author or of the book. St. Irene, who lived before that time like several other sects of the Christians, accused the scriptures with being filled with imperfections, errors and contradictions. The Ebionites or Nazarenes who were the first Christians, rejected all the Epistles of Paul, and regarded him as an impostor. They report, among other things, that he was originally a Pagan, that he came to Jerusalem, where he lived some time; and that having a mind to marry the daughter of the high priest, he caused himself to be circum- cised; but that not being able to obtain her, he quarreled with the Jews, and wrote against circumcision, and against the observation of the Sabbath, and agrinst all the lega! ordinances.” , reports that the Valentiniangs, - Peer es PERRPAG RES ERaEe Es keer ts tether Tortie Porat Te igesire it! *gderye de teseese Pe Teer tT bs < eee ey Tey ts3 Set eeehet pitas ss 7 Lote ets Pes zi te ott oes Hee beet fete et aba oS S553 PES ee 136 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART 1, ears intervening between the time that Christ is said to ve lived and the time the New Testament was formed into a book, we must see, even without the assistance of his- torical evidence, the exceeding uncertainty there is of its authenticity. The authe nticity of the book of Homer, so far as regards the authorship, is much better establishe ad than that of the New Testament , though Homer is a thou- sand years the most ancient. ie was only an exceeding good poet that could have written the book of Homer, and, “Where fore, few men only could have attempted it; and a man capa- ble of doing it would not have thrown aw ay his own fame My giving it to another. In lke manner, there were but fe that could have composed Euclid’s ees ts, because none but an exceeding good geometrician could have been the author of that work. But, with respect to the books of the ea Testament, particularly such parts as tell us of the resurrection and ascension of Christ, any person who could te I a story of an apparition, or of a man’s walking, could have made such books, for ‘the story is most wretchedly told. The chance, therefore, of forgery in the Testament is millions to one greater than in the case of Homer or Euclid. Of the nu- merous prie sts on parsons of the present day, bishops and all, every one of them can make a sermon, or translate a scrap of Latin, ¢ espec sially if it has been translated a thousand times before; but is there any amongst them that can write poetry like Homer, or science like Kuclid? The sum total of a parson’s learning, with ve ry few exceptions, is @ 6 ad, and hic, hec, hoc; and their know! edge of science is three times one is three; and this is more than sufficient to have enabled them, had they lived at the time, to have written all the books of the New Testament. As the o opportunities for for; weries were greater, so, also, was the inducement. A man could gain no advantage by writing under the name of Homer or Kuclid; if he could write equal to them, it would be better ¢ that he wrote under his own name; if inferior, he could not succeed. Pride would prevent fhe former, and j Impossibility the latter. But with respect to such books as compose the New Testament, all the inducements were on the side of forgery. The best- imagined history that could have been made, at the distance of two or three hundred years after the time, could not havePART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 13; oe passed for an original under the name of the real writer; the o any chance as success lay in fc orgery, for the frock wanted pretense for its new doctrine, and tr uth and talents were out of the quest ion. But as it is not uncommon (as before obsery ed) to relate ator. +g a fs Y stories of persons 1 oatking alter they are dead, and of ghosts As At aa ihe 5 r and apparit of such as have fallen by some violent or extraordinai i means; and. aS the people o that day were in the habit of believing such things, al nd of the appearance : . c Ey: z bil of angels, and also of oe lis, and of their getti c a" dix \) ec 1 Cy lac : j - hh. 1-4 cy | Lie 4+ ? i pies INslaes, and shaking them lke a fit of an ague, and OF their being cast out again as if by an emetic—(Mary Mao- dalene, the book of Mark tells us, had brought up, or beer brought to bed of seven devils)—it was nothing extraord nary that some story of this kind should get abroad of the person called Jesus Christ, and become afterwards the foun- dation of the four books ascribed to Matthew, Mar! ik Luke and John. ach writer told the tale as he heard it, or there- abouts, and gave to his book the name of the saint or the apostle whom tradition had given as the eye-witness. It is only upon this ground tha i 4 preend cu t the cor feridic ‘tion in those books can be accounted for; and if this Pe not the case, they are downright impositions, lies and forgeries, without even the apology of credulity. That they h: ive been written by a sort of half Jews, as the foreroing quotations mention, is discernible enough. The frequent references made to that chief assassin Tae imp yostor Moses, and the He. men called prophets, establishes thi: point; and, on the other hand, the church has complimented the fraud by admitting the Bible and the Testament to reply to each other. Between the Christian Jew and the Christian Gentile, the thing salled a prophecy, and the thing prophe- sied; the type, and the thing typified; the sign, and the thing signified, have been industriously rummas a up, and fitted tort! ver like old locks and pick-lock keys. The story foolish ily enough told of Eve and the serpent, and naturally enough as to the enmity between men and ser- pents, (for the serpent always bites eam the heel, because it cannot reach higher; and the man al lways knoeks the ser- pent about the head, as the most effectual way to prevent its biting;*) this foolish story, I say, has been made into a ***Tt shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his Aeel.”” Genesis, chap. tii., wer. 15 3 on FITAPSERZASEQagee dedi . perevtrs Pere T ee. Poret tt tee aoe = a tee ay. bh ere it ot ieee eee $o45ee% . aSET Eris eS set9s8: 138 THE AGE OF REASON. (PART i. prophecy, a type, and a promise to begin with; and the lying imposition of Isaiah to Ahaz, That a virgin shalt conceive Bid bear @ son, asa sign that Ahaz should conque r when the event was that he was defeated (as already noticed in the Bhscrvat ions on the book of Isaiah,) has been perverted, and made to serve as a mndemen Jonah and th 1e whale are almost made into a sion or a type. Jonah is Jesus, and the | whale is the grave; for it is sald, (and they have made Christ to say it of himself,) Matt., chap. xvii, ver. 40: “ For as. saat was three days dace ree nights in the whale’s ie so shall the Son of m an be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.’ But it happens, awk wardly enough, that Christ, according to their own seco an, was but one day and two nights in the grave, about 36 hours instead of 72: that is, the Friday night, the Saturday, and the Saturday night; for they say he was up on the Sunday mor ning by s sunrise, or before. But as this fits quite as well as the dite and the ‘hick in Genesis, or ue virgin and her son in Isaiah, it will pass in the lump of orthodox things. Thus much for the historical part of the ee sou and its evide nces, Epistles of Paul.—The epistles ascribed to Paul, being fourteen in number, almost EI up the remaining part of the Testament. Whether those epistles were written by the person to whom they are ascribed, is a matter of no great importance, since the writer, whoever he was, attempts to prove his a ctrine by argument. He does not pretend to have been witness to any of the scenes told of the resur- ection and the ascension, and he declares that he had not believed them. The story of his being struck to the ground as he was journeying to Damascus, has nothing in it miraculous or extraordinary; he escaped with life, and that is more than many others have done, who have been struck with light- ning; and that he should lose his sight for three days, and be unable to eat or drink during that time, is nothi ing diets than is common in such conditions. His companions that were with him: ppear not to have suffered in the same man- ner, for they were well enough to lead him the remainder of the Journey; neither did they pretend to have seen any Frei. The character of the person called Paul.ey | s PART II. ] THE AGE OF REASON. 139 account given of him, has in ita great deal of violence and fanatic a he had persecuted } mtn as much heat as he a ache { aieceworic: the stroke he had received had changed his ung without altering his constitu itlon; and either > zealot. Such men as a Jew ora Christian, he was the same are never good moral evidences of any doctrine they v ¢ preach. The y are always in extremes, as well of action as of belief : | ‘ =e } ae ee res : . < a doctrine he sets out to prove by argument, is the resurrection of the same body; and he ad) vances this as an evidence of immort ality. But so much will men ee in their manner of think king, and i in the conclusions they dray from the same premises, that this doctrine of the re surrec- tion of the same body, so far from being an evidence of im ee, ee to me to furnish an Patidenea: agalnst 1b} for if I had already died in this bo ly, and am raised again in es Same body in which I have died, it is presum] i ps tive sucenee that I shall die again. That resurrection no more cures me against the repeti tion of dy! ng, than an acues fit, when past, secures me against anoenee To be lieve, therefore, In imm ortality, ] must have am ore elevated | ide than is contained in the gloomy doctrine of the resurrection. Besides, as a matterof choi ice, as well as of hope, I had rather have a better bo dy anda more convenient bah than the present. Every animal in the creation excels us in something. The winged insects, without mentioni: ug doves or eagles, can pass Over more space with greater ease, in a few minutes, than a man can in an hour. The glide of. the smallest fish, in proportion to its Oh exceeds us in motion, almost beyond comparison, and without weariness. Even ic sluggish snall can Bee from a bottom of a dungeon, where a man, by the want of that ability, would perish; and a spider can launch itself from the top, as a playful amusement. The personal powers of man are so limited, and his heavy frame so little constructed to exten- sive enjoyment, that there is nothing to induce us to wish the opinion of Paul to be true. It is too little forthe mag nitude of the scene—too mean for the sublimity of the su Lb- jee Li. But all other arguments apart, the consciousness of exist- ence is the on y conceivable ic lea we can have of another life, and the continuance af ne cOuSClOUSHEeSS is ImMmMortal- p i Be A bite Lt LOLS ere er TS, Sores: eek tess it abebeea tee tr. le BPS hee Be! _ La140 THE AGE OF BEASON. [PART II. ity. The consciousness of existence, or the knowing that we exist,is not necessarily confined to the same form, nor to the same matter, even in this life. We have not in all cases the same form, nor In any case the same matter, le it composed our ‘ bodie s twenty or thirty years ago; an ve are consclous of be ing the same per- ‘ ys and arms which make up almost half the . | ro oar +} o > ~ + human frame, are not necessary to the consciousness of & C . Ms “9 sons. idmven ie existence. ‘These may be lost or taken away, and the full consciousness of existence rem< 1in; and were their place rm) supplied by wings, or other appendages, we cannot con- ceive that it could alter our consciousness of existence. In short. we know not how much, or rather how little, of ion it 18, and how exqiisl ely fine that little is, Our comp ositl In us this conse 1iousness of ex istence; and all be- that creates yond that is like the oe of a peach, distinct and separate from the vegetative specl k in the kernel. Wi O can say by what exceeding fine action of fine matter t a thought is produced in what we call the mind? and vet that thought + ve on produced, as | now pro duce the th ought I am writing, is capable of becoming immortal, and is the only production of man that has that capacity. Statues of brags and marble will perish; and statues made in imitation of them are ae the same statues, nor the same workmanship, any more than the copy of a picture is the same picture. But print a and reprint a thou, oht a thousand times over, and that with mate rials of any sarve it in wood, or engrave it on stone, the thought is eternally and identically the same th ought in every case. It has a capacity of unimpaired existence, unaffected by change of matter, and is_ essentially Apence and of a nature different from everything else that we know or can conceive. If then the thing produce ed has in itself a capacity of being immortal, it is more than a token that the power that produced it, iwigel is the self-same thing as consciousness of existence, can be immortal also; and that is independently of the matter it was first connected with, as the though t is of the printing or writing it first appeared i in. The one idea is not more diffi- salt to believe than the other, and we can see that one is true. That the consciousness of existence is not dependent on the same form or the same matter, is demonstrated to ourPART 11. | THE AGE OF REASON. 141 senses in the works of the creation, as far as our senses are capable of recelving that demonstration. A very numerous part of the an imal creation preaches to us, far better th: an Paul, the belief of a life he reatter. Their little life resembles an earth anda ae present and a future state: and comprises, if it may be so expressed, immortality in minia- ture. The most beautiful parts of the creation to our eye are the winged i insects, and the mf >not so original] y: They acquire that form, and that inimitable bri] liancy by progressive changes. The ) w and creeping caterpillar-worm of to- mys passes in a fewd ays to a torpid heure, and a state resemb! ng death; and in the next change comes forth in all the minia- ture magnificence of life, a splendid butterfly. ] ae blance of the former creature remain ed; all his powers are new, and life is to him another thing. We cannot conceive that. the consciousness of existence is not the same in this state of the animal as before; w hy then must I believe that the resurrection of the same body is nece see to continue to me the consciousness of existence hereafte In the Bie! part of the Age of Reason, I have called the creation the oniy true and real word of God; and this in- Stance, of this text, in the book of creation, not only shows to us that this thing may be so, but that it is so; and that he belief of a future state is a rational belief, founded upon facts visible in the creation: for itis no more difficult to beli eve that we shall exist hereafter in a better state and form than at present, than that a worm should become a butterfly, and quit the dunghill for the atmosphere, if we did not know it as a fact. As to the doubtful jargon ascribed to Paul in the 15th chapter of 1 Corinthians, which makes part of the burial ser- vide of some Christian sectaries Ss, it is as destitute of meaning as the tolling of the bell at a funeral; it explains nothing 3 the understanding—it ulustrates nothing to the imagination, but leaves the reader to find any meaning if he can. “ All flesh, (says he,) is not the same flesh. There is one flesh of men; another of beasts; another of fishes; and another of birds.” And what then?—notl ung. A ook could have said as much. “There are also, (says, he,) bodies celestial and bodies terrestrial; the glory of the celestial is one, and the 56 avenethinen is ch lang teatabig Ree eegaged ys dishs Titecasast TT erret Te err Si eebees tee are ree eo euattemia 142 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART Iz. glory of the terrestrial is another.” And what then? noth- ing. And what is the difference? nothing. that he has told. “There is, (says he,) one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars.” And what then ?—nothing; except tha ut he Says that one star differeth from another star in glory, instead ot distance; and he might as well have told us, that the moon did not shine so bright as the sun. All this is nothing better than the jargon of a conjuror, who ake up phrases he does not underst and, to han tou id the predulous people who come to have their fortunes told. sous and conjurors are of the same trade. Sometimes Paul affects to be a naturalist and to prove his system of resurrection from the principles of vegetation. “Thou fool, (says he,) that which thou sowest is not quick- ened except it die.” To which one might reply in his own language and say, Thou fool, Paul, that which thou sowest is not quicke ned except it die not; for the erain that es in the ground never does nor can vegetate. It is only the living orains that produce the next crop. But the meta- phor, in any point of view, is no simile. It is succession, and not resurrection. The progress of an animal from ‘one state of being to another, as from a worm toa butterfly, applies to the case; but this of a grain does not, and shows Paul to have been what he, says of others, a fool. Whether the fourteen epistles ascribed to Paul were writ- ten by him or not is a matter of indifference; they are either argumentative or dogmatical; and as the argument is defec- tive e, and the dogmatic ‘al part is merely pr esumptive, it signi- fies not who wrote them. And the same may be said for the remaining parts of the Testament It is not upon the epistles, but upon wiiat is called the gospel, contained in the four books ascribed to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, and upon the feerended prophecies, that the theory of the church, calling itself the Christian Church, is founded. The epistl S are dependent upon those, and must follow their fate; for, if the story of Jesus C Thirst be fabulous, all reasoning founded upon it as a supposed truth, must ‘fall with it. We know from history that one of the principal leaders of this church, Athanasius, lived at the time the New Testa- ment was formed;* and we know, also, from the absurd * Athanasiue died, according to the courch chronology, in the year $71.THE AGE OF REASON. 143 IA Yen } Q wr +1, 4 Wer Jargon he has left us S unde) te Name of a creed, the c} Narac- , rh 4] T ry 1en who formed the New Testa ne N Stament; and we Ls ] ma “ 2 : 1 ee ° BMOW, also, trom the Same histx Ty, that the achoancie ot Pe] ] Prelate s : } Sn : the books of w WEN 1b: is Composed was aenied at the time, | 2 if Was 17? the TOTAa of } Aa A th, yQq iL +} ml ‘¥ WaS upon the vote o such aS Athanasius that tne i esta- Y) T ; 7D la CL | t } ah ¢ r ra nt (ES Jo J } re Ler Was @ e€ec O be the word of Oa; and no thi ne Can Dresent to us a more Stranoe 1qd¢ a tilan tnat of doutebides Ale ? re eN‘ ro : ‘ a TN}. : + ‘ yy i ‘70a Dy vote. I NOSe Who rest their ee upon sucl h authority, put man in the piace of FOG, and have no foun- “atlOn itor future Happiness; credul]l ty, Foes Yer. IS nota Uriime, Dut It becomes Criminal by res ess conviction. It a ees : fia egiwcak) coe im : ‘ IS Strangiing in the womd of the conse lence the ie 1t ee es ee a Z : maxes to ascertain truth. We should hever force belief upon ourselves In anything. I here close the subject on the Old New. The evidence ] have prod Beries 1s extracted from the |} estament and the uced to prove them for- books themselves s, and acts like a two-edged sword, either way. If the evidence be den ied, the authe snticity of the scriptures is deni ed with its for it is i¢ scripture evide nce; and if the evidence e be admitted, the authenticity of the books is disproved. The contr adictory impossibilities contained in the Old Testament and the New put them in the case of a m; in who Swears for and against. Either evidence convicts him of perjury, and equally de- stroys reputat ion. Should the Bible and the Testament hereaf fter fall, itis not J that have been the -eeension, I have done no. more than extracted the evidence from that confused mass of mixed, and arranged that evidence M4 point of lizht. to be clearly seen and easily SORES and, having done this. I leav e the reader to judge for himself, as | have judged for myself, matter with which it is asain G(r* PSRASSERS AS RRA gee Erdish sts Sidsasarsee+3iit SE Ld es Pom sdwhey ap as Sidsslagvers¢tit ge rcdedetsses ere Pees a - CdCONCEUSION, In the former part of the Age of Reason, I have spoken of the three frauds, mystery, miracle, and prophecy; and as I have seen nothing in any of the answers to that work, that in the least affects what I have there said upon those subjects, I shall not encumber this Second Part with addi- tions that are not necessary. I have spoken also in the same work upon what is called revelation, and have shown the absurd misapplication of that term to the books of the Old Testament and the New; for certainly revelation is out of the question in reciting anything of which man has been the actor or the witness. That which a man has done or seen, needs no revelation to tell him he has done it, or seen it; for he knows it already; nor to enable him to tell it, or to write it. Itis ignorance, or Dest to app ly the term revelation in such cases; yet the Bible and Testament are classed under this fade lent description of being all reve/ation. Revelation, then, so far as the term has relation between God and man, can only be applied to something which God reveals of his wi/Z to man; but though the power of the Almighty to make such a communication is necessarily ad- mitted, because to that power all things are possible, yet, the thing so revealed (if anything ever was revealed, and which, by the bye, itis impossible to prove) is eareiicion to the person only to whom it is made. His account of it to another is not revelation; and whoever puts faith in that account, puts itin the man from whom the account comes; and that man may have been deceived, or may have dreamed it; or he may be an impostor, and may le. There is no possible criterion whereby to judge of the truth of what he tells; for even the morality of it would be no proof of rev- elation. In all such cases the proper answer would be, “When it is revealed to me, I will believe it to be a revela- 144PART 11. | THE AGE OF RBASON, 145 tion; but it is not, and cannot be incumbent upon me to be- lieve it to be a revelation before; neither is it proper that I should take the word of man as the word of God, and put man in the place of God.” This is the manner in which] have spoken of revelation in the former part of the Age of Reason; and which, while it reverentially admits revelation as a possible thing, because, as before sald, to the Almighty all things are possible, it prevents the imposition of one man upon another, and precludes the wicked use of pretended revelation. But though, speaking for myself, [ thus admit the possi- bility of revelation, I totally disbelieve that the Almighty ever did communicate anything to man, by any mode of speech, in any language, or by any kind of vision, or appearance, or by any means which our Senses are capable of receiving, otherwise than by the universal display of him- self in the works of creation, and by that repugnance we feelin ourselves to bad actions, and disposition to do good ones, The most detestable wickedness, the most horrid cruel- ties, and the greatest miseries, that have afflicted the human race, have had their origin in this thing called revelation. or revealed religion. It has been the most dishonorable belief against the character of the Divinity, the most de- structive to morality, and the peace and happiness of man, that ever was propagated since man began to exist. It is better, far better, that we admitted, if it were possible, a thousand devils to roam at large, and to preach publicly the doctrine of devils,if there were any such, than that we per- mitted one such impostor and monster as Moses, Joshua, Samuel, and the Bible prophets, to come with the pre- tended word of God in his mouth, and have credit among us, € ae ‘e Whence arose al! the horrid assassinations of whole na- tions of men, women, and infants, with which the Bible ig filled; and the bloody persecutions, and tortures unto death, and religious wars, that since that time have laid Kurope in blood and ashes; whence arose they, but from this impious thing called revealed religion, and this monstrous belief, that God has spoken to man? The lies of the Bible have been the cause of the one, and the lies of the Testament of the other. DR Some Christians pretend, that Christianity was not estab- 10 Pret F stgageeds tISFASagags TOSS Fesede her sig cca eressssii SEDs isgwaverett gee146 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART I. lished by the sword; but of what period of time do they . } } } } i : or speak? It was impossible that twelve men could begin with the sword; they had not the power, but no sooner were the ‘ { { ly powertul to employ Pal ag 4 os en qe eyes professors of Christianity sufficient 7 1 > ; - } } me 1 than they did so,and the stake and faggot, too 1 Nr an } and Mahomet cou p ‘ ei. ‘ dy thin oy Se that Peter cut off the ear of the high 7 Spe ae eee 2 : a Ay ld not do it sooner. By the same spiri V \ h x id TWA Shite + e), he would have cut of Gif the story be true his head, and the head of his master, had he been able. Besides this, Christianity grounds itself originally upon the Bible, and the Bible was established alt ether by the sword, and that in the worst use of it; not to terrify, but to extirpate. The Jews made no converts; they butchered all. Vhe Bible is the sire of the Testament, and both are called the word of God. The Christians read both books; the ministers preach from both books; and this thing called Christianity is made up of both. It is then false to say that Christianity was 5 adi — € The only sect that has not persecuted are the Quakers; that can be given for 1t 1s, that they : . S | Nc Sd ry*} 1, a } 1; 7 are ratoer WVeists than Christians. ihney Go NOt peuecve 5 pee | ae ok aceare Worn sue a nas Iist, and tney call tHe scriptures d dead letter. Had they called them by a worse name they had It is incumbent on every man who reverences the char- ‘ter of the Creator, and who wishes to lessen the catalomue > , 1 ] ] OF ArNGla! miseries. ang remove tie: Cause that has sown persecutions thick among mankind, to expel all ideas of re- vealed religion as a dangerous heresy, and an impious fraud. What is it that we have learned from this pretended thing called revealed religion? Nothing that is useful to man, and everything that is dishonorable to his Maker. | What is it the Bible teaches us?—rapine, cruelty, and murder. What 4 mighty committed debauchery with a woman ¢ ngaaged to be . Io ) , . . . ; , } . ; 1 ey married? and the belief of this debauchery is called faith. Astothe fragments of morality that are irregularly and thinly scattered in those books, they make no part of this pretended thing, revealed religion. They are the natural dictates of conscience, and the bonds by which society is held together, and without which it cannot exist; and areTHE AGE OF REASON. 147 nearly the same in all a and in all sediem es: The ae teaches nothing ne ew upon this subject, and where it attempts to exce ed, it becomes mean and ridiculous. The doctrine a not re taliating pees: 1s much better expressed in proverbs, which is a co lection as well from the Gentiles as the Jews, than it is in the Testament. It is there Proverbs, xxv., ver. “1, “Lf thine enemy be hun gry, give him bread to eat; and tf he be thirsty, give him water to drink:* but when it is said, as in the Lestament, “ Jf a man smite thee on the right cheek turn to Sa hy } y * 7 59 : . him the other atso,” it 1s assassinating the dignity of forbearance, and sinking man into a spaniel, Loving enemies, 1s another dogma of feigned morality, and has besides no me aning. It is incumbent on man, as a moralist, that he does not revenge an injury; and. it is equally oO od in a politic al sense, for there j O end tO retal- lation, each. retaliate son the other and calls it ustice; but 1 . . 1) . . > a: ] 1 Fr to love in proportion to the injury,if it could be aone, would be to offer a premium for crime. Besides the word enemies - J 4 < ; ae : pea is too vagueand general to be used In a moral maxim, which > q : ape To : ought aiways to be clear and defined, like @ proverb. If a ? man be tne nemy Of another from mistake and prejudice, as in the case of religious Opinions, and sometimes in polities, that nfan is different to an nemy at heart with a criminal] intention : and it is in ‘umbent upon us, and it contributes also to our own tranquillity, that we put the best construc- tion upon a thing that it will bear. Bu t even this erroneous motive : ae Paes no moti ve for love on the « rae part ; and to sx y' hat we can love voluntar ee without a motive, 1s Saami id physi ally imp a a, Morality is ied by prescribing to it duties, that, in . 4 . © 84 1 7 pa Sey) 5 5 “ig re : the first piace, are 1m poss ible to be periormed; and, if they If | . sessed } 37 ce silie \Y a se cc / h could be, would be productive of ey il; or, aS before said, be * According to what is calle E as sermon on fhe mount, in the book of Matthew, where. amc ne gome ler good things, a great deal of this feioned morality is introduced, it is there e ex] ressly said, that the doctrine of forbea ance, or of not retaliating injuries, wus not any part of the doctrine of the Jews; but as this doctrine is founded in proverbs, it must, according to that statement, have been copied from the Gentiles. from whom Christ had learned it. Those men, whom Jewish and Christian idolators have abusively called heathens, had much better and clearer ideas of justice and morality, than are to be found ip the Old Testament, so far as it is Jewish; orin the New. The answer of Solon on the question, “ Which is th most perfect popular government?” has never been exceeded by any man since his time, as containing a maxim of political morality. “That,” says he,“ were t/e leust injury done to the meanest individual, is considered as an. ineult ov the whole constitution.” Solon lived about 500 years before Christ. 1 Per eeary : $PeCRPAZREARERAQS ES + 475 TUltsiasaserrecss+s4 eee eee es eS ee erye raat tyeggireie + ge Leah + tt het Ce et eo _ ot ot hed zitece148 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART II. premiums for crime. The maxim of doing as we would be done unto, does not include this strange doctrine of loving enemies; for no man expects to be loved himself for his crime or for his enmity. Those who preach ‘this doctrine of loving their enemies, are in general the greatest persecutors, and “they act consist- ently be so doing; for the doctrine is hypocritical, and it is natural that hypocrisy should act the reverse of what it preaches. For my own part, I disown the doctrine, and consider it as a feioned or fabulous morality; yet he man does not exist that can say I have persecuted him, or any man or any set of men, either in the American Revolution, or in the French Revolution: or that I have, in any case, returned evil for evil. But it is not incumbent on man to reward a bad action with a good one, or to return good for evil ; and wherever it is done, it is a vo luntary act, and not a duty. It is also absurd to oe nae that such doctrine can make any part of a revealed religion. We imitate the moral character of the Creator by fori saring’ with each other, for he forbears with all; but this doc cine. would imply ehyat he loved man, not in proportion as he was good, bat as he was bad. If we consider the nature of our condition here, we must see there is no occasion for such a thing as revealed religion. What is it we want to know? Does not the creation, the universe we behold, preach to us the existence of an Almighty power that governs and regulates the whole? ea is not the evidence that this creation holds out to our senses eae stronger than anything we can read in a Pa hat any impostor might make and call the word of God? As for: morality the know ledge of it exists in every man’s conscience Here we are. The existence of an Almighty power is sufficiently demonstrated to us, thoug h we cannot conceive, as it is impossible we should, the n: uture and manner of its existence. We cannot conceive how we came here our- selves, and yet we know fora fact that we are here. We must know also, that the vower that called us into being, can, if he please, and when he pleases, ¢ call us to account for the manner in which we have lived he rey ang. therefore, without seeking any other motive for the belief, it is ration- al to believe tiog he will, for we know belorahane that hePART I1.] THE AGE OF REASON. 149 can. The probability or even possibi that we ought to know; for if we kne be the mere slaves of terror; or b and our best actions no virtue. Deism then teaches us, without the possibility of being deceived, all that is necessary or proper to be known. The creation is the Bible of the Deist. He there reads, in the handwriting of the Creator himself, the certainty of his exist- ence, and the immutability of his power, and all other Bibles and Testaments are to him forgeries. The probability that we may be called to account hereafter, will, to a reflecting mind, have the influence of belief; for it is not our belief or disbelief that can make or unmake the fact. As this is the State we are in, and which is proper we should be in, as free agents, it is the fool only, and not the philosopher, or even the prudent man, that would live as if there were no God. But the belief of a God is so weakened by being mixed with the Strange fable of the Christian creed, and with the wild adventures related in the Bible, and of the obscurity and obscene nonsense of the Testament, that the mind of man is bewildered as in a fog. Viewing all these things in a confused mass, he confounds fact with fable; and as he can- not believe all, he feels a disposition to reject all. But the belief of a God is a belief distinct from all other things and ought not to be confounded with any. The notion of a Trinity of Gods has enfeebled the belief of one God. A multiplication of beliefs acts as a division of belief; and in proportion as anything is divided it is weakened. Religion, by such means, becomes a thing of form, instead of fact; of notion, instead of principles; morality is banished, to make room for an imaginary thing, called faith,,and this faith has its origin in a Supposed debauchery; a man is preached instead of God; and execution as an object for gratitude; the preachers daub themselves with the blood, like a troop of assassins, and pretend to admire the brilliancy it gives them; they preach a humdrum sermon on the merits of the execution; then praise Jesus Christ for being execut- ed, and condemn the Jews for doing it. A man, by hearing all this nonsense lumped and preached together, confounds the God of the creation with the im- agined God of the Christians, and lives as if there were none, lity of the thing is all w it asa fact, we should elief would have no merit, ree) EPEC Cre Terie rire gs teers PP Teresa sPSndone: Stasaserres+3< Pe] Sad epeerem ee 150 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART IL. Of all the systems of religion that ever were invented, there is none more derogatory to the Almighty, more une aie fying to man, more rept icnant to reason, and more contradic- tory in itself, than this thins 1¢ called Christi anity. Too absurd for belief, too impossible to convince, and too inconsistent for prac tice, it renders the heart tor ‘pid, or produces only atheists and Retin: As an engine of power, it serves the purpose of desp tism ; and as a means of wealth, the avarice of priests; but so far asi ‘espects the good of man in general, it leads to nothing here or hereafter. The only Eons that has not been invented, and that has in it every evidence of divine originality, is pure and simple Deism. It must have been the first, and will prob- ably be the last that man believes. But pure and: simple Deism does not answer the purpose of despotic govern- ments.. They cannot lay hold of religion as an engine, but by mixing 1t “with human inventions, and making their own authority a part; neither does it answer the avarice of priests but by incorporating themselves and their functions with it, and becoming, like the government, a party in the system. It is this that forms the otherwise myste1 ous connection e church humane, and the state € a | nl +A Ste tt church and State; Uti Were man impress das fully and as strongly as he ought to be with the belief of a God, his moral life would be reg- ulated by hie force of that belief; he would stand in awe of God, and of himself, and would not do the thing that could not be concealed from either. To give this belief the full opportunity of force, it is necessary that it act alone. This is Deism. But when, according to the Christian Trinitarian scheme, one part of God 1 nents esented by a dying man, and another I l] st, by a flying pigeon, it is impos- sible that belief c can attach itself to such wild conceits.* It has been the scheme of the Christian church, and of all the other invented systems of religion, to hold man in ignorance of the Creator, as it is of government to hold man The systems of the one are as *The book called the book of Matthew, says, chap. lil. ver. 16, that the Holy Ghost descended in the shape of a dove. It might as well have said a goore; the me pews = @ Q part caiied in ignorance of his rights. creatures are equally harmless, and the one is as much a nonsensical lie as the other. The second of Acts, ver. 2, 3, says, that it descended in a mighty rushin wind. 1D the shape of cloven londques perhaps 1t Was cloven feet. Such absur etuff is only fit for tales of witches and wizards.PART II. | THE AGE OF REASON. 151 Pailice ac . ee yee 2 e faise as those of the oth her, and are calculated for mutual : Saves Ghh eee nee Soper cue ipport. The study « the olc Ogy, aS 1t stands in Christian churches, is the study c it #1 . etic piaees A sta ta kat 3 ee it rests on no ide les: It proceeds by no authoritie it has no data; it can demonst ; : rate nothing; and it no conclusion. Not anything can be studied as a science. without our being in possession of the principles upon wh ch it 1s founded ; and as this is not the case with Christian theology, it is therefore the study of nothing. Instead then of studyines. thecloo ve meiiaiuan fe , ; € . then oO} stuaying Lneology, as 18S now done, out of the Bible and Testament. th > meanings of which books are always controverted and the EEN authenticity of which is disproved > 10 is necessary that we refer to the Bible of the creation. : he principles we discover there are eternal igin; they are the foundation of all the science | ld, and must be the foundation of ee W e€ can KNOW God OY S havea conception of any one attr abet but by f principle that leads to it. We have only a_ é his power, if we have not the means of ‘¢omnr hending if <4 s 4 OO pd 2 vv ns J e | 4 co As ~ ~ — =) a © er - / oad = W ~ ~~ jo) ® J oo a something Ol its immensity. Wecan have no idea’of his Sey Petes ei ee ie. rete Si } gS pS wisdom, but by knowing the order and manner in which it acts. 1 7 . > 1 The princ iples of science lead to tl tor of man is the Creator of JI through that medium that man can see God. as it C ee ee Sele dus ge eh } ‘Ouiad a Man be placed ina situation, and endow ed with the power Oi vision, to behold at one view, and to contem- >| J . 1 : Pp ate dell ly, the structure of the universe: to mark the movements oi several planets, tne Cause Or their varying a 11 eel + Pipe es | ee ee |e BA ee appe arances, the uner! mi9 Oraer 1Nn Cl tney revoive, even + ine Atace . he dae nnantin asvrl LAr Ona \y to the remotest comet; t ir connection and ojepenaence on €acn Ootner, and to Know tne system oi laws €stavilSnea oy tne fs cos ge Aces eee es di ee Te ead eee | oe Creator, Lnat PGOverns andreguiates the whois , he wt ould cnen c : at ] Cree hain COMCE1VE, 1a! y Voat ly Church the logy can teach him, t (reatont= he wanll than « . that all +] ; a ee alae reator; ne wouid then see, that all the knowledge man has ec _ } } i} - Sit ao } yrta Ly whie of science, and that all the mechanical arts | y waich he : id oe Cc PS tray : ] } eee + « renders his situation comfortable here, are derived from that source: his mind, exalted by the scene, and convinced by the fact, would increase in gratitude as it increased in knowledge; his religion or his worship would become united with his = } Hebbal it Dias et Lee at tet mers et LETPOPHE Siazsaserrecs3+*4 & Rete SE Rad hoe ah kt! - Leos @Beeet ae ee et oeeeels Si ey secdeets152 THE AGE OF REASON. [PART IT. improvement aS a man; any employment he followed, that had connection with the principles of creation, as every thing of agriculture, of science, and of the mechanical arts, has, would teach him more of God, and of the gratitude he owes to him, than any theological Christian sermon he now hears. Great objects inspire great thoughts; great munificence excites creat gratitude; but the groveling tales and doctrines of the Bible and the Testament are fit only to excite con- tempt. Though man cannot arrive, at least in this life, at the actual scene I have described, he can demonstrate it; because he has a knowledge of the principles upon which the creation is constructed. We know that the greatest works can be represented in model, and that the universe can be repre- sented by the same means. ‘The same principles by which we measure an inch, or an acre of ground, will measure to millions in extent. A circle of an inch in diameter has the same geometrical properties as a circle that would circum- scribe the universe. The same properties of a triangle that will demonstrate upon paper the course of a ship, will do it on the ocean; and when applied to what are called the heay- enly bodies, will ascertain to a minute the time of an eclipse, though these bodies are millions of miles distant from us. This knowledge is of divine origin; and it is from the Bible of the creation that man has learned it, and not from the stupid Bible of the church, that teacheth man nothing.* All the knowledge man has of science and of machinery, by the aid of which his existence is rendered comfortable upon earth, and without which he would be scarcely distin- guishable in appearance and condition from a common ani- mal, comes from the great machine and structure of the universe. The constant and unwearied observations of our * The Bible-makers have undertaken to give us, in the first chapter of Gene sis, an account of the creation: and ip doing this they have demonstrated nothing but theirignorance. They make there to have been three days and three nights, evenings and mornings, before there was asun: wien it is the presence or absence of a sun that is the cause of day and night—and what is ca'led his rising and setting, that of morning and evening. Besides, it is a pnerile and pitiful idea, to suppose the Almighty to sav, ** Let there be light.”> It is the im- erative manner of speaking that a conjuror uses, when he says to hie cups and balls, Presto, be gone—and most probably has been taken from it, as Moses and his rod are a conjuror and hia wand. Longinns calls this expression the sublime; and by the same rule the conjuror is sublime too; forthe manner of speaking is expressively and grammatically the same. When authors and critics talk of the sublime, they see not how nearly it borders on the ridictlons. The sublime of the critics, like some paris of Edmund Burke’s sublime and beantiful, is like a wind-mill just visible in a fog, which imagination might distort into a flying mountain, or an archangel, or a flock of wild geese.PART 11. | THE AGE OF REASON. 153 ancestors upon the movements and revolutions of the he bodies, in what are supposed to have been the early aces y J 3S avenl the world, have brought this knowledge upon earth, of ve 7 A No x ‘ > 2\ 2 7 Ac = : is not Moses and the prophets, nor Jesus Christ, nor his ak sat oe apostles that have done it. Che Almighty is the great me- chanic of the creation; the first philosopher and oricinal i : oS teacher of all science.—Let us, then, learn to reverence our master, and let us not forget the labors of our ancestors, Had we, at this day, no knowledge of machinery, and were it possible that man could have a view, as I have before de- scribed, of the structure and machinery of the universe, he would soon conceive the idea of constructing some at least of the mechanical works we now have: and the idea so con- ceived would progressively advance in practice. Or could a model of the universe, such as is called an orrery, be pre- sented before him and put in motion, his mind would arrive at the same idea. Such an object and such a subject would, whilst it improved him in knowledge useful to himself asa man and a member of society, as well as entertaining, afford far better matter for impressing him with a knowledge of, and a belief in the Creator, and of the reverence and crati- tude that man owes to him, than the stupid texts of the Bible and of the Testament, from which, be the talents of the preacher what they may, only stupid sermons can be preach- ed. If man must preach, let him preach something that is edifying, and from texts that are known to be true. The Bible of the creation is inexhaustible in texts. Every part of science, whether connected with the geometry of the universe, with the systems of animal and vegetable life, or with the properties of inanimate matter, is a.text as well for devotion as for philosophy—for gratitude as for human im- provement. It will perhaps be said, thatif such a revolution in the system of religion takes place, every preacher ought to be a philosopher.— Most certainly; and every house of devotion a school of science. It has been by wandering from the immutable laws of science, and the right use of reason, and setting up an in- vented thing called revealed religion, that so many wild and blasphemous conceits have been formed of the Almighty. The Jews have made him the assassin of -the human species, to make room for the religion of the Jews. The Christians have made him the murderer of himself, and the founder of PECRGSERPARE Sa gee dr dishes *Sigsaserrecs?++4* epee ies cesre tree ere PEasigegersee] ae o4 when opinions are free, either in matters Pes a new religion, to supersede and expel the Jewish religion. And to find pretense and admission for these things, they | must have supposed his power and his wisdom imperfect, or mt his will changeable: and the changeableness of the will is : rfection of the judgement. The p iilosopher knows he laws of the Creator have never changed with elth to the principle: of science, or the properties of Why, then, is it supposed they have changed wit} respect to man? ing parts of this w positions and forgeries; and I leave the evidence I have pro- duced in proof of refuted, if any one can do it; and I leave the ideas that ar a sted in the conclusion of the work to rest on the mind of the reader; certain as I am, that BOF government or e religion, truth will finally and powerfully prevail.AT Lee OF THE PASSAGES IN QUOTED FROM THE OLD, AND CALLED PROPHECIES CONCERNING JESUS TOGETHER WITH A REPLY TO THE BISHOP OF LLANDAFF a M A LETIEBR TO Me: ERSKINE, AND MISCELLANEOUS PIECES, ik NEW TESTAMENT ‘abil 2 eet LS Leet Serf. ‘ Lhbebetes? TT Tre Tt re TST TL: Bs Rae hs Scho eligees Tose SeLeeE EE. Pertti hoardPREFACE. ee TO THE MINISTERS AND PREACHERS OF ATI, DENOMINA. TIONS OF RELIGION, It is the duty of every man, as far as his ability extends, to detect and expose delusion and error. But nature has not given to every one a talent for the purpose ; and among those to whom such a talent is given, there is often a want of disposition or of courage to do it. The world, or more properly speaking, that small part of it called Christendom, or the Christian World, has bee for more than a thousand the Old Testament, n amused years with accounts of Prophecies in about the coming of the person called Jesus Christ, and thousands of sermons have been preached, and vol- umes written, to make man believe it, In the following treatise I have examined all the passages in the New Testament, quoted from the Old, and called prophecies concerning Jesus Christ, and I find no such thing as a prophecy of any such person, and I deny there are any. Thep passages all} relate to circumstances the Jewish nation was in at the time they were written or spoken, and not to anything that not to happen in the world several] hundred and I have shown what the circum was or was years afterwards ; stances were, to which the passages apply or refer. I have given chapter and verse for everything I have said, and have not gone out of the books of the Old and New Testament for evidence that the passages are not prophecies of the person called Jesus Christ, The prejudice of unfounded belief, often degenerates into the prejudice of custom, and becomes, at last, rank hypocrisy. When men, from custom or fashion, or any world ly motive, pro- fess or pretend to believe what they do not be lieve, nor can give - DL SAA th i took St dbehinaal te tre tre Pee ete Tire Ter leet eee tangs Pea Phe td pee E S|eas tt] a Tt east gt PREFACE. any reason for believing, they unship the helm of their morality, and being no longer honest to their own minds, they feel no moral difficulty in being unjust to others. It is from the in- fluence of this vice, hypocrisy, that we see so many Church and Meeting-going professors and pretenders to religion, so full of trick and deceit in their dealings, and go loose in the perform- ance of their engagements, that they are not to be trusted fur- ther than the laws of the country will bind them. Morality has no hold on their minds, no restraint on their actions. One set of preachers make salvation to consist in believing. They tell their coy regations, tl This, in the first place, is an en- 1at if they believe in Christ, their sins shall be forgiven. couragement to sin, in a similar manner as when a prodigal young fellow is told his father will pay all his debts, he runs into debt the faster, and becomes more extravagant: Daddy, t¢ 7s he avs 9)] and \¥ he rAd asco ‘ : ] Says he, pays ail, and on he goes. vst So in the other case, Christ pays all, and on goes the sinner. In the next place, the doctrine these men preach is not true. The New Testament rests itself for credulity and testimony on what are called prophecies in the Old Testament, of the person called Jesus Christ ; and if there are no such things as prophe- cies of any such person in the Old Testament, the New Testa- ment is a forgery of the councils of Nice and Laodicea, and the faith founded thereon, delusion and falsehood.* < Another set of preachers tell their congregations that God predestinated and selected from all eternity , & certain number to be saved, and a certain number to be damned eternally. If this were true, the day of Judgment 18 past: their preaching is in vain, and they had better work at some useful calling for their livelihood. * The councils of Nice and Laodicea were held about 350 years after the time Christ is said to have lived: ; and the books that now compose the New Testament, were then voted for law. A great many that were offere jected. This is the wav the New T by YEAS and Nays, as we now vote a d had a majority of nays, and were re- estament came into being.es PREFACE. 165 This doctrine, also, like the former, hath a direct tendency to demoralize mankind. Can a bad man be reformed by telling him, that if he is one of those who was decreed to be before he was born, his reformation wil if he was decreed to be saved, damned : 1 do him no good ; and he will be saved whether he believes it or not ; for this is the result of the doctrine. Such preaching, and such preachers, do injury to the mora] world. They had better be at the plow. As in my political works my motive and object have been to give man an elevated sens se of his own character, and free him uperstitious absurdity of monarchy and nent, sO in my publications on religious sul jects my endeavors have been directed to bring man to a right use of the reason that God has given him: the great principles of divine mercy, and a h iy ] t dis ) siti t+ al] mean g 1d GG l] reat 1weag 9 ] 1 venevolent disposition to all men, and to all crea sures, and to him a spirit of trust, confidence and congo] his Creator, unshackled by the fables of books be the word of God. from the slavish and s hereditary govern: J- to impress on him morality, justice, inspire in ation in pretending to THomas Pang oe et Clk PhP er rere) elo et Peo ore tre Sees Be a rere reo Be verde ietese’ ee Beate bee SE st TT LSE RL Sime ot bt eae 2EXAMINATION OF THE PASSAGES IN THE NEW TESTAMENT, QUOTED FROM THE OLD, AND OALLED PROPHECIES OF THE COMING OF JESUS CHRIST [Tus work was first published by Mr. Paine, at New York, in 1807, and was the last of his writings, edited by himself. It is evidently extracted from his answer to the Bishop of ilandaff, or from his third part of the “ Age of Reason,” both of which, it appears by his will, he left in manuscript. The term, “The Bishop,” occurs in this exar nination six times without designating what bishop is meant. Of all the replies to his second par t of the ‘‘ Age of Reason,” that of Bishop Watson was the only one to whi ch he paid particular attention; and he is, no doubt, the person here alluded to. Bishop W atson’ S apology tor the Bible had been published some years before Mr. P. leéft France, and the latter composed his answer to it, and also his third part of the “ Age of Bescon ” while in that country. When Mr. Paine arrived in America, and found that liberal opinions on religion were in disrepute, t through the influence of hy; pocrisy and superstition, he declined publishing the entire of oie works which he had prepared; observing that “An author might lose the credit he had acquired by writing too much.” He however gave to the public the examination before us, in a pamphlet form. But the apathy which appeared to prevail at that time in regard to religious eae fully determined him to discontinue the publication of his theological writings. In this case, taking only a portion of one of the works before ae he chose a title adapted to the particular part selected. | The Eissados called Prophecies of, or concerning, Jesus Christ, in the Old Testament, may be classed under the two following heads :— ; First, those referred to in the four books of the New Testa- eho e eco k tS Tere as | * staseserreost<+4 ee tqerree te datecsest Pee Oe Ee sed168 EXAMINATION OF ment, called the four Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Secondly, those which translators and commentators have, of their own imagination, erected into prophecies, and dubbed with that title at the head of the several chapters of the Old Testament. Of these it 1s scarcely worth while to waste time, ink and paper upon; I shall, therefore, confine myself chiefly to those referred to in the aforesaid four books of the New ; rm { ne R fi 1, cur tiot a € 2 ) a eae _ = Testament. If [ show that these are not prophecies of the 4 i TT i We ; Ley nWAY oh 7 wofar : yt ey = person called Jesus Christ, nor have reference to any such = ce o) “77 1 eects Ee at Siny ane s A a S - s . person, It wlll ve pertectly needless to combat those W hich a] 2 ny the hi pl hav mwvantad oY oes at les 4 translators, or the Church, have invented, and for which they had no other authority than their own imagination T ] LOIN rit} the honole ealled t] Gc ‘nal aqaranrding 14. i begin with the book calied the Gospel according to Nt. Matthew Te Ae ae Pe OLD Se Sa eT A A Tpn ee Pd cep > In the first chap ver 18, it is said, “Wow the birth of Jesus Christ was wm this wise: when his Mother Mary was espoused HE WAS FOUND WITH CHILD 1 to Joseph, before they came together SHE \ i 7 « e BY THE HOLY GHOST. ’—HJLhIs 1S SoOIng a little too rast, pecause Pe ree Det PRE ace cate awed 1 ~ pe 1 ] } - 4 to make tnis verse agree with the next 10 should nave Said no ee 1, Bae j 17 .C ; ; ante Dd ta eon ed \ more than tnat she was found wrth chriid , Tor the next verse awa CITT ann Ta be Binns ibnipabiry Says, ef Lhen Jos pn “er fUSOVATNLE — being &@ just man, and not u Uieng to make her a puolre example, was minded to put her 7 A 4 : lie T ; Lecoak , i —Consequently Joseph had found out no more & 7 than that she was with child, and he knew it was not by him- a Aaite Ak a Per. ze . ‘72 ] . V. 20. “And while he thought of these things (that is, whether he should put her away privily, or make a public example of rer) behold the Angel of the Lord appeared to him IN A DREAM 1 — Susi / that is, Joseph dreamed that an angel appeared unto him), saying, Joseph, thow son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. And she shall bring forth a son and call his name Jesus ; for he shall save his people from their sins.” Now, without entering into any discussion upon the merits or demerits of the account here given, it is proper to observe, that it has no higher authority than that of a dream; for it is unpossible for a man to behold anything in a dream, but that which he dreams of. I ask not, therefore whether Joseph (if there was such a man) had such a dream or not; because ad- mitting he had, it proves nothing. So wonderful and rational is the faculty of the mind in dreams, that it acts the part of —_THE PROPHECIES. 169 all the characters its unagination creates, and what it thinks it hears from any of them, is no other than what the roving rapidity of its own Unagination invents. lt as. therefore. nothing to me what Joseph dreame: dots whether of the fidehit ty or infidelity of his w ite, af pay 10 regard Lo my own dreams, and I should be weak indeed to put faith in the dreams of another Ihe verses that follow those IT have quoted, are the words of the writer of the book of Matthew “Wow (says he), adl this (that 8 all this dreaming and this pregnancy) was done that at might dE Suljilie d which was spoke ‘Te OF the Lord by the Py ophet, saying, “ Behold a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shal a his name Bue which being inter- preted, 8, GO, with us.” of the book of Matthew endeavors to make his readers believe that this passage is a prophecy of the person Jhrist. It is no such thing—and I go to show it is not. But it is frst ety that i explain the occasion of these words being spoken by Isaiah; the reader will then easily perceive, that so far from their being a prophecy of Jesus Christ, they have not the least reference to such a person, or anything that could happen in the time that Christ is said to have lived— which was about seven hundred years after the time of Isaiah The case is this: : On the death of Solomon the Jewish nation split into two monarchies: one called the kingdom of Judah, the capital of which was Jerusalem; the other the kingdom of Israel, the capital of which was Samaria The ie lon of Judah followed the line of Da avid, and the kingdom of Israel that of Saul; and these two rival monarchies frequ sntly carried on fierce wars against each other. . At the time Ahaz was king of Judah, which was in the time of Isaiah, Pekah was king of Israel; and Pekah joined himself to Rezin, king of Syria, to make war against Ahaz, king of Judah; and these two kings marched a confederated and power- ful army against Jerusalem Ahaz and his people becam alarmed at the danger, and ‘‘theur hearts were moved as the trees of the wood are moved with the wind.” Isaiah, chap. vu ver. D. In this perilous situation of things, Isaiah addressed himself to Ahaz, and assures him, in the name of the Lord (the cant tite Cok eee ee ee] er) bie dbheaeas Sete t tr te Lk eae $agaarevel+geecge ads ae Be 3 594s Gelade peeled bebhd 313i eLekaa ee yt IL iterate hee eergasiitis170 EXAMINATION OF phrase of all the prophets), that these two kings should not succeed against him. and, to assure him that this should be the case (the case was however directly contrary*), tells Ahaz to ask a sign of the Lord. This Ahaz declined doing, giving as a reason that he would not tempt the Lord: upon which Isaiah, who pretends to be sent fromm God, says, ver 14, “Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign, behold a virgin shall concerve and bear a son—Lutter and honey shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the evil and choose the good-—For be- fore the child shall know to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land which thou abhorrest shall be forsaken of both her kings” —meaning the king of Israel and the king of Syria, who were marching against him. Here then is the sign, which was to be the birth of a child, and that child a son, and here also is the time limited for the accomplishment of the sign, namely, before the child should know to refuse the evil and choose the good. The thing, therefore, to be a sign of success to Ahaz, must be something that would take place before the event of the battle then pending between him and the two kines could be known. A thing to be a sion must precede the thing signi- fied. The sign of rain must be before the rain. t would have been mockery and insulting nonsense for Isaiah to have assured Ahaz as a@ sign, that these two kings should not prevail against him: that a child should be born seven hundred years after he was dead; and that before the child so born should know to refuse the evil and choose the good, he, Ahaz, should be delivered from the d then immediately threatened with, 7 anger he was \ But the case is. that the child of which Isaiah speaks was his own child, with which his wife or his mistress was then pree- nant; for he says in the next chapter, v. 2, “And J took unto me faithful witnesses to 1 cord, Uriah the priest. and Zechariah Cee SOG OF J ehoronbawh. « } if anon nt ai s bs ae of be oOlb ¢ / J €0€E) SOClOUCLit , QAIE F u lhl UIA tte 7 OP/ivevess, ana e i / = Ee a “Ch iii. ver 1st. lhaz was twwe niy years old when he began to reign, ned sixt l » Jerusalem, but he did not that which was righ of the Lord.—ve rs 5D: Wherefore the Lord his God delin- ered him into vas of the king iF Syria, and they smote him, and carr, a a 63 Pe, ftuden th ay ¥ ean Tb ought the m to D Lmascus;: and he was also delivered into the hans of the king of Israel, who sniote him witha great slaughter Ver. 6. And Pekah (king of Israel) slew thousand in one day,.—ver. & And th ot their brethren two hundred thi in Judah an hundred and twenty children of Israel carried away caplrve USANA Wonen, sons, and daughters.THE PROPHECIES. yet she conceived and bare a son ;” and he says, at ver. 18 of the same chapter, “ Behold I and the children whom the Lord hath gwen me are for signs and for wonders in Israel.” It may not be improper here to observe, that the word trans- lated a virgin in Isaiah, does not signify a virgin in Hebrew, but merely a young woman. The tense also is falsified in the translation. Levi gives the Hebrew text of the 14th ver. of the 6th chap. of Isaiah, and the translation in English with it- “ Behold a young woman is with child and beareth a son.” The expression, says he, is in the present tense. This translation agrees with the other circumstances, related of the birth of this child, which was to be a sign to Ahaz. But as the true trans- lation could not have been imposed upon the world as prophecy of a child to be born seven hundred years afterwards, the Christian translators have falsified the original: and instead of making Isaiah to say, behold a young woman is with child and beareth a son—they make him to say, behold a virgin shall conceiye and bear a son. It is, however, only necessary for a person to read the 7th and 8th chapters of Isaiah, and he will be convinced that the passage in question is no prophecy of the person called Jesus Christ. I pass on to the second passage quoted from the Old Testament by the New, asa prophecy of Jesus Christ. a Matthew, chap. ii. ver. 1. ‘Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judah, in the days of Herod the king, behold there came wise men from the east to J erusalem—saying, where is he that is born king of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. When Herod, the king, heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him—and when he had gathered all the chief priests and > scribes of the people together, he demanded of them where { ° 7 ‘ce gh Becut : Th Bike 3 s+} J xy ‘ e Christ should be born—and they said unto him in Bethlehem. ; ing ; j c 1 in tne land oO} Judea: for thus it is written by the prophet— and thow Bethlehem, in the land of Judea, art not the least among the Princes of Judea, for out of thee shall come a Governor that shall rule my people Israel.” This passage is in Micah, chap. 5. ver. 2. I pass over the absurdity of seeing and following a star in the day-time, as a man would a JVoll with the wisp, or a candle and lantern at night; and also that of seeing it in the east, when ves came from the east; for could such a thing be e them for a guide, it must be in the west to they themselves ec seen at all to serv ee Lee re 2 $8 Poe eee tee eek Tce Say é - egeergetedese+ eee Pees Ph PS Pe Soe Te: ebbet oi D2 |AREETRIFIEF leaeass EEa oe 172 EXAMINATION OF them. I confine myself solely to the passage called a prophecy of Jesus Christ. The book of Micah, in the passage above quoted, chap. v. ver. 2, is speaking of some person without mentioning his name from whom some great achievements were expected ; ‘but the descrip- tion he gives of this person at the Sth verse, proves evidently that it is not Jesus Chri ist, for he says at the 5th ver. “and this man shall be the peace when the Assyrian shall come into our land, and when he shall tread in our palaces, then shall we raise ainst him (that is, against the Assyrian) seven sh oe 1 up war aga herds and eight oe men—v. 6. And they shall waste the land of Assvria with the sword, and the land of Nimrod on the entrance thereof : thus shall He (the person spoken of at the head of the second verse) deliver us from the Assyrian when he cometh into our land, and when he treadeth within our borders.” his 1s so Pe descriptive of a military chief, that it cannot be appled to Christ without outrag they pret to give us of aaa Besides w stances of the times here spoken of, and those of the Te 13 in which Christ is said to have ey are 1n contradiction to each other. It was the Romans, and not the Assyrian s, that had ron d and were in the land of Judea, and trod in their palaces when Christ was born, and when he died, and so far from his driving them out, iti was they who signed the warrant for his execution, and he suffered under it Having thus shown that this is no prophecy of Jesus Christ, f pass on to the third passage qu oted from the Old ‘Testament by the New, as a eae e of him. “mm ere ; This, ike the first | have spoken of, is introduced by a dream. Joseph dreameth another dream, and dreameth that he seeth another angel. ‘The account begins at the 13th v. of 2nd chap. of Matthew. “The angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream, say- ing, Arise and take the young child and his mother and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word: For Herod will seek the o of the young child to destroy him. When he arose he took the young child and his mother by night and departed into Ke ay t—and was there until the death of Herod, that it might be fultilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Out of Egypt I have called my son.” This passage is in the book of Hosea, chap. xi. ver. 1. TheTHE PROPHECIES, words are, “ When Israel was a child then I loved him and called my son out of Eyypt—As they called them, so they went froin them, they sacrificed unto Balaam and burnt incense to graven images.” This passage, falsely called a prophecy of Christ, refers to the children of Israel coming out of Egypt in the time of Pharaoh, and to the idolatry they committed afterwards. To make it apply to Jesus Christ, he must then be the person who sacrificed unto Baalam and burnt incense to graven images, for the person called out of Egypt by the collective name, Israel, and the } sons committing this indolatry, are the same persons, or the descendants from them. This, then, can be no prophecy of Jesus Christ, unless they are willing to make an idolater of him. I pass on to the fourth passage, called, a prophecy by the writer of the book of Matthew. This is introduced by a story told by nobody but h BS ee at himself, and scarcely believed by anybody, of the slaughter of all the chil- dren under two years old, by the command of Herod. only 7} 1 ‘ Poe oh ae ED She 4 b Se : held an office under the Roman government, to which appeals could alway S De nad, aS we see 1n the CasG Of Paul. Matthew, h al 1p cer owever, having made or told his story, says, chap. ae a 7) 1 Tea 1 ] i. v. 17.—‘‘ Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jere- : miah, the prophet, saying,—Jn Ramah was there a voice heard, lamentation, weeping and great mourning ; Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted because they were not.” This passage is in Jeremiah chap. xxxi. ver. 15, and this verse when separated from the verses before and after it, and which explains its application, might, with equal propriety, be applied to every case of wars, sieges and other violences, such as the Christians themselves have often done to the Jews, where mothers have lamented the loss of their children. There is nothing in the verse, taken singly, that designates or points out any particular application of it, otherwise than it points to some circumstances which, at the time of writing it, had already happened, and not to a thing yet to happen, for the verse is m the preter or past tense. I go to explain the case and show the application of the verse. Jeremiah lived in the time that Nebuchadnezzar besieged, took, plundered and destroyed Jerusalem, and led the Jews cap- tive to Babylon. He carried his violence against the Jews to every extreme. He slew the sons of King Zedekiah, before his PRB ag, 173 tote E Slat ere re ertes © eee res poset tre helo 40 #etednmie, eheteteeees agerset 174 EXAMINATION OF face, he then put out the eyes of Zedekiah, and kept him in prison till the day of his death. It is of this time of sorrow and suffering to the Jews that Jeremiah is speaking. Their temple was destroyed, their land desolated, their nation and government entirely broken up, and themselves, men, women and children, carried into captivity. They had too many sorrows of their own, immediately before their eyes, to permit them, or any of their chiefs, to be employ- ing themselves on things that might, or might not, happen in the world seven hundred years afterwards. It is, as already observed, of this time of sorrow and suffering to the Jews that Jeremiah is speaking in the verse in question. In the two next verses, the 16th and 17th, he endeavors to console the sufferings by giving them hopes, and according to the fashion of speaking in those days, assurances from the Lord, that their sufferings should have an end, and that their children should return again to their own children. But I leave the verses to speak for themselves, and the Old Testament to testify against the New. Jeremiah, chap. xxxi. ver. 15.—“ Thus saith the Lord, a voice was heard in Ramah (it is in the preter tense), lamentation and bitter weeping: Rachel weeping for her children because they were not.” Verse 16.—“Thus saith the Lord, refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears; for thy work shall be re- warded, said the Lord, and tury shall come again from the land of the enemy.” Verse 17.—“ And there is hope in thine end, saith the Lord, that thy children shall come again to their own border.” By what strange ignorance or imposition is it, that the chil- dren of which Jeremiah speaks (meaning the people of the Jewish nation, scripturally called children of Israel, and not mere infants under two years old), and who were to return again from the land of the enemy, and come again into their own borders, can mean the children that Matthew makes Herod to slaughter? Could those return again from the land of the enemy, or how can the land of the enemy be applied to them ? Could they come again to their own borders? Good heavens! How has the world been imposed upon by Testament-makers, priestcraft, and pretended prophecies. I pass on to the fifth passage called a prophecy of Jesus Christ. This, like two of the former, is introduced by dream. JosephTHE PROPHECIES. 175 dreamed another dream, and dreameth of another Angel. And Matthew is again the historian of the dream and the dreamer. Tf it were asked how Matthew could know what Joseph dreamed, neither the Bishop nor all the Church could answer the ques- tion. Perhaps it was Matthew that dreamed, and not Joseph , that is, Joseph dreamed by proxy, in Matthew’s brain, as they tell us Daniel dreamed for Nebuchadnezzar. But be this as it may, I go on with my subject. The account of this dream is in Matthew, chap. ii. ver. 19. __“ But when Herod was dead, behold an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, saying, Arise, and take the young child and its mother and go into the land of Israel, for they are dead which sought the young child’s life. And he arose and took the young child and his mother and came into the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus did reign in Judea in the room of his father Herod, he was afraid to go thither: notwithstanding being warned of God in @ dream (here is another dream), he turned aside into the parts of Galilee ; and he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene.” Here is good circumstantial evidence that Matthew dreamed, for there is no such passage in all the Old Testament ; and I invite the bishop and all the priests in Christendom, including those of America, to produce it. I pass on to the sixth pas- sage, called a prophecy of Jesus Christ. This, as Swift says on another occasion, is lugged in head and shoulders. It need only to be seen in order to be hooted as a forced and far-fetched piece of imposition. Matthew, chap. iv. v.12. “Now when Jesus had heard that John was cast into prison, he departed into Galilee—and leav- ing Nazareth, he came and dwelt in Capernaum, which is upon the sea-coast, in the borders of Zebulon and Nephthalim—That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Esaias (Isaiah) the prophet, saying, The land of Zebulon and the land of Nepthalim, by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, in Galilee of the Gentiles —the people which sat in darkness saw great light ; and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death, light is spronging upon them.” I wonder Matthew has not made the cris-cross-row, OF the christ-cross-row (I know not how the priests spell it) into a pro- phecy. He might as w ell have done this as cut out these ua~ Pee) SISLLYi Teri er rere s Postel tes See ee wut de dassereze cfeeseeee ‘$e? stissviseic— PesetSe Steere seat 176 EXAMINATION OF connected and undescriptive sentences from the place they stand in and dubbed them with that title. The words, however, are in Isaiah, chap. ix. verses 1, 2, as follows :— ““ Nevertheless the dimness shall not be such as was in her vexation, when at the first he lightly afflicted the land of Zebulon and the land of Nephthala, and afterward did more grievously afflict her by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, in Galilee of the mations. All this re elates to two circumstances that had already hap- pened, at the time these words in Isaiah were written. The one, where the land of Zebulon and } Nephthali had been lightly afflicted, and afterwards more griev oy by the way of the sea. But observe, reader, how Matthew has falsified the text, He begins his quotation at a part of the verse where there is not so much as a comma, and thereby cuts off everything ke re- lates to the first affliction. He then leaves out all that relates to the second affliction, and by this means leaves out every saa that makes the verse intelligible, and reduces it to a senseless skeleton of names and towns. To bring this erage of Matthew clearly and immediately before the eye of the reader, [ will repeat the verse, and put between crotchets the words he has left out, and put in Italics those he has preserved. [ Nevertheless the dimness shall not be such as was in her vexation when at the first he lightly afflictec l] the land of Zebulon and the land of Nephthala, [and did afterwards more grievously afflict her] by lhe way of the sea beyond Jordan in Galilee of the nations.” What gross imposition is it to gut, as the phrase is, a verse in this manner, render it perfectly senseless, and then puff it off on a credulous world as a prophecy. I proceed to the next verse. Ver. 2. “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of ¢ leath, upon them hath the light shined.” All this is historical and not in the least prophetical. The whole is in the preter tense - it speaks of things that had been accomplished at the time the words were written, and not of things to be accomplished after- wards. As then the passage is in no possible sense prophetical, nor intended to be so, and that to attempt to make it so, is not ‘onlyTHE PROPHECIES. 177 to falsify the original, but to commit a criminal j imposition ; it is a matter of no concern to us, otherwise than as curiosity, to know who the people were of which the p: wssage speaks, that s: in darkness, and what the light was that shined in prey che . If we look into the ee chapter, the 8th, of which the 9th is only a a, ion, we shall find the writer s speaking, at the 19th verse, of Saonehes and wizards who peep about and aoe and of people who made application to the m3; and he reaches and exhorts them against this darksome practice. Itis it this people, and of this darksome practice, or oe me ers ness, that he is speaking at the 2nd verse of thé 9th chapter: Vee ee j and with respect to the light that had shined in upon them, ib refers entirely to his own ministry, and to the boldness of it. which opposed itself to that of the witches and wizards who per oe about and nvuttered. Isaiah is, ape the whole, a wild disorderly writer, preserving 7 in g eeneral no clear chain of perception in the srnanisendemt of his ideas, and consequently producing no defined conclusions from them. It is the wildness of his style, the confusion of his ideas, and the ranting metaphors he employs, that have afforded so many opportunities to priestcraft in some cases, and to super- stition in others, to impose those defects upon the world as pro- phecies of Jesus Christ. Finding no direct meaning in them, and not knowing what to make of them, and supposing at ah same time they were intended to have a meaning, they supplied the defect by inventing a meaning of their own, and ca lled it his. I have, however, in this place done Isaiah the j Justice to rescue him from the claws of Matthew, who has torn him un- mercifully to pieces; and from the imposition or ignorance ¢ priests and commentators, by letting Isaiah speak for mien if the words walking in darkness, and light breaking in, could in any case be applied prophetically, which they cannot be, they would better apply to the times we now live in than to any other, The world has “walked im darkness” for eighteen hundred years, both as to religion and government, and it is only since the Americ an Revolution began that light has broker in. The belief of one God, whose attributes are revealed to us in the book or scripture of the creation, which no human hand can counterfeit or falsify, and not in the written or printed book which, as Matthew has shown, can be altered or falsified by ignorance or design, is now making its way among us; and as to government, tne light rs already gone forth, and whilst men 12 2 ‘PES hEr i rere eS Pere oy ee) Poe or tte eek Teeter es ere ba 4 ko etait es Roaurait elaihes178 EXAMINATION OF ought to be careful not to be blinded by the excess of it, as at a certain time in France, wien everything was Robespierrean violence, they ought to reverence, and even to adore it, with all the firmness and perseverance wih at true wisdom can inspire. I pass on to the seventh passage, called a prophecy ot Jesus Christ. Matthew, chap. viii. ver. 16. “When the evening was come, they brought unto him (J esus) many that were possesse .d with devils, and he cast out the spirit with his word, and healed all that were sick,—That it might be fulfilled w rhich was spoken by Esaias (Isaiah) the prophet, saying, humself took our infirma- ties, a and bare our sicknesses.” This affair of people being peo od I by devils, and of cast- ing them out, was the fable of the day when the books of the New Testament were ie It had not existence at any other time. The books of the Old Testament mention no such thing; the people of the present day kuow of no such thing ; nor does the history of any people or country speak of such a thing. It starts upon us all at once in the book of Matthew, and is altogether an invention of the New Testament-makers and the Christian church. ‘The book of Matthew is the first book where the word Rc is mentioned.* We read in some of the books of the Old Testament of things called familiar spirits, the supposed companions of people called witches and wizards. It wasno other than the trick of pretended conjurors to obtain money from credulous and ignorant people, or the fabricated charge of superstitious malignancy against unfor- tunate and decr epit old age But the idea of a familiar spirit, if we can affix any idea to the term, is exceedingly different to that of being possessed by a devil. In the one case, the supposed familiar spirit is a dex- terous agent, that comes and goes and does as he is bidden ; in the other, he i is a turbulent roaring monster, that tears and tor- tures the body into convulsions. Reader, whoever thou art, put thy trust in thy Creator, make use of the reason he en- dowed thee with, and cast from thee all such fables. The passage alluded to by Matthew, for as a quotation it is false, is in Isaiah, chap. lili. ver. 4, which is as follows: “ Surely he (the person of whom Isaiah is speaking x) hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” It is in the preter tense. * The word devil § is a personific: ation of the word evil.THE PROPHECIES. Here is nothing about casting out devils, nor curing of sick- ness. The passage, therefore, so far from being a prophecy of Christ, is not even applicable as a circumstance. [saiah, or at least the writer of the book that bears his name, employs the whole of this chapter, the 53rd, in lamenting the sufferings of some deceased person, of whom he speaks very es ] Leone eo i reg eee a ] 1 pathetically. It is a monody on the death of a friend; but he mentions not the name of the person, nor gives a circumstance of him by which he can be personally known ; and it is this + ‘ » : Be eee t a | 1 1 . svidence OF nothing, that Matthew nas laid silence, which is hold of to put the name of Chri: Jews, whose sorrows were then great, and the times they lived > ‘in is die acl sna Biante ao hie st to 1b; aS lf the chieIs of tne in big with danger, were never thinking about their own afiairs, nor the fate of their own friends, but were continually running a wild-goose chase into futurity. To make a monody into a prophecy is an absurdity. The ¥ characters and circumstances of men, even in different ages of the world, are so much alike, that what is said of one may with propriety be said of many ; but this fitness does not make the passage into a prophecy ; and none but an impostor or a bigot would call it so. Isaiah, in deploring the hard fate and loss of his friend, men- tions nothing of him but what the human lot of man is subject to. All the cases he states of him, his persecutions, his impris- onment, his patience in suffering, and his perseverance in prin- ciple, are all within the line of nature : they belong exclusively to none, and may with justness be said of many. But if Jesus Christ was the person the church represents him to be, that which would exclusively apply to him, must be something that could not apply to any other person ; something beyond the line of nature: something beyond the lot of mortal man; and there are no such expressions-in this chapter nor any other chapter in the Old Testament. It is no exclusive description to say of a person, as is said of the person Isaiah is lamenting in this chapter. He was op- pressed and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth ; he is brought as a@ lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before his shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.” ‘This may be said of thousands of persons, who have suffered oppressions and unjust death with patience, silence and pertect resignation. Grotius, whom the bishop esteems a most learned man. and who certainly was so, supposes that the person of whom Isaian hg LP SESS De dust at a Paster ess Cre eReLIL Lei ert tr ire er ees or A Ssgsarere eh.riteye tet ithitti tick hEeeese ek te) Tots OF 180 EXAMINATION is speaking, is Jeremiah. Grotius is led into this opinion, from the agreement there is between the description given by Isaiah, and the case of Jeremiah, as stated in the book that bears his name. If Jeremiah was an innocent man, and not a traitor in the interest of Nebuchadnezzar, when Jerusalem was besieged his case was hard; he was accused by his countrymen, was persecuted, oppressed, and imprisoned, and he says of himself ). * But as for me, I was luke a (see Jeremiah, chap. i. ver. 9): lamb or an ox that is brought to the slaughter.” I should be inclined to the same opinion with Grotius, had Isaiah lived at the same time when Jeremiah underwent the eruelties of which he speaks ; but Isaiah died about fitty years before ; and it is of a person of his own time, whose case Tsaiah is lamenting in the chapter in question, and which imposition and bigotry, more than seven hundred years afterwards, per- verted into a prophecy of a person they call Jesus Christ. I passon to theeighth passage called a prophecy of Jesus Christ. Matthew, chap. xii. ver. 14. “Then the Pharisees went out and held a council against him, how they might destroy him— But when Jesus knew it he withdrew himself ; and great num- bers followed him and he healed them all—and he charged them that they should not make him known ; That it might be ful- filled which was spoken by Hsaias (Isaiah) the prophet, saying, ‘Behold my servant whom | have chosen ; my beloved in whom my soul is well pleased, I will put my spirit upon him, and he shall show judgment to the Gentiles—he shall not strive nor cry, neither shall any man hear his voice in the streets—a bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not A guench, till he sends forth judgment unto victory—and in his name shall the Gentiles trust.” In the first place, this passage hath not the least relation to the purpose for which it is quoted. Matthew says that the Pharisees held a council against Jesus to destroy him—that Jesus withdrew himself—that great num- bers followed him—that he healed them—and that he charged them they should not make him known. But the passage Matthew has quoted as being fulfilled by these circumstances, does not so much as apply to any one of them. It has nothing to do with the Pharisees holding a council to destroy Jesus—with his withdrawing himself—with great num- bers following him—with his healing them—nor with his charg- ing them not to make him known.THE PROPHECIES. 18] The purpose for which the passace is quoted and the passage itself, are as remote from each other, as nothing from some- thing. But the case is, that people have been so long in the habit of reading the books called the Bible and Test; ament with their eyes shut and their senses locked up, that the most stupid inconsistencies have passed on them for truth, and imposition for prophecy. The all-wise Creator has be en dishonored by being made the author of fable, and the human mind degraded by be lieving it. ; In this passage as in that last menti oned, the name of the Person: of whom the Passase spea kg is not 21V en, and we. are left in the dark respec ting him. It is this defect in the his- tory, that bigotry and imposition have laid hold of to call it pr ophecy. Had Isaiah lived in the time of Cyrus, the passage would descriptively apply to him. As king of Persia, his authority was great among the Gentiles, and it is of such a character the passage speaks; and his friends ship for the Jews whom he lib- erated from captivity, and who might then be compared to a bruised reed, was extensive. But this description does not apply to ees Christ, who had no authorit y among the Gen- tiles , and as to his own countrymen, fi gu iratively de scribed by the bruised reed, it was they who crucified } him. Neither ean it be said of bien that he did not er y, and that his voice was not heard in the street. As a Sree it was his business to be heard, and we are told that he travelled about the country for that purpose. Matthew has given a Ic yng sermon. which (if his authority is good, but which is much to be doubted since he im- poses so m uch,) Jesus preached to a multitude upon a mountain, and it would be a quibble to say that a mountain is not a street. since it is a place equally as public. The last verse in the passage (the 4th) as it stands in Isaiah. and which Matthew has not quoted, says, “ He shall not fail nor be discouraged till he oe set judgment in the earth he the isles shall wait for his law.” ‘This also applies to Cyrus. He was not discouraged, he did not fail, he conquered all Bal by- lon, liberated the Jews, and established laws. But this cannot be said of Jesus Christ, who in the passage before us, according to Matthew, Se arevr himself for fear of the Pharisees, and charged the pesple that followed him not to make it known where he was; and who, accor ding to other parts of the Testa- OT a 3 Pete Cokes ole oy | Pee eee tre Sek err er rors ety te tessesess oidEXAMINATION OF 182 ment, was continually moving from place to place to avoid being apprehended. * But it is immaterial to us, at this distance of time, to know who the person was: it is sufficient for the purpose [ am upon, that of detecting fraud and falsehood, to know who it was not, A ; | 1] T e 1y “{ fx IT and to show it was not the person called Jesus Christ. + 11 sig 3: es eed se Nie Oe ae I pass on to the ninth passage called a propnecy ol Jesus Christ. Matthew, chap. xxi. v. 1. “And when t! erusalem, and were come to Bethpage, unto the mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two of his disciples, saying unto them, go into the village over against you, and straightway ye shall find an ass tied, and a colt with her, loose them and bring them + A hey drew nigh unto * In the second part of the ‘‘ Age of Reason,” I have shown that the hook e \ 11. ell ascribed to Isaiah is not only miscellaneous as to matter but as to a uthor- ship ; that there are parts in it which could not be written by [saiah, because they speak of things one hundred and fifty years after he was dead., The instance I have given of this, in that work, corresponds with the subject I am upon, at least a little better than Matthew’s introduction and his quotation. Isaiah lived, the latter part of his life, in the time of Hezekiah, and it was about one hundred and fifty years, from the death of Hezekiah to the first year of the reign of Cyrus, when Cyrus published a proclamation which is given in the first chapter of the book of Ezra, for the return of the Jews to Jerusalem. It cannot be doubted, at least it ought not to be doubted, that the Jews would feel an affectionate gratitude for this act of benevolent justice, and it is natural they would express that gratitude in the custom- ary style, bombastical and hyperbolical as it was, which they used on ex- traordinary occasions, and which was, and still is in practice with all the eastern nations. he instance to which I refer, and which is given in the second part of the « Aoe of Reason,” is the last verse of the 44th chapter, and the beginning of the 45th—in these words: ‘‘ That saith of Cyrus, he is my shepherd and shall perform all my pleasure: even saying to Jerusalem thou shalt be built, and to the Temple, thy foundation shall be laid. Thus saith the Lord to his anoinied to Cyrus, whose right hand I have holden to subdue nations before him; and I will loose the loins of kings, to open before him the two-leaved gates, and the gates shall not be shut.” This complimentary address is in the present tense, which shows that the thines of which it speaks were in existence at the time of writing it ; and consequently that the author must have been at least one hundred and fifty years later than Isaiah, and that the book which bears his name is a com- pilation. The Proverbs called Solomon’s, and the Psalms called David’s, are of the same kind. ‘The two last verses of the second book of Chronicles, and the three first verses of the first chapter of Ezra, are word for word the same; which show that the compilers of the Bible mixed the writings of different authors together, and put them under some common head. As we have here an instance in the 44th and 45th chapters of the introduc- tion of the name of Cyrus into a book to which it cannot belong, it affords good ground to conclude, that the passage in the 42nd chapter, in which the character of Cvrus is given without his name, has been introduced in like manner, and that the person there spoke of is Cyrus.THE PROPHECIES. unto me—and if any man say ought to you, ye shall say, the Lord hath need of them, and straightway he will send them. ‘©All this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, saying, Tell ye the daughter of Sion, behold thy king cometh unto thee meek, and sitting upon an ass, and a colt the foal of an ass.” Poor ass! let it be some consolation amidst all thy sufferings, that if the heathen world erected a bear into a constellation, the Christian world has elevated thee into a prophecy. This passage is in Zechariah, chap. ix. ver. 9, and is one of the whims of friend Zechariah to congratulate = countrymen, who were then returning from captivity in Babylon, and him- self with them, to Jer ‘usalem. It has no concern with any other subject. It is strange that apostles, priests, and commen- tators, never permit, or never suppose, the Jews to be speaking of their own affairs. Everything in the Jewish books is per- verted and distorted into meanings never intended by the writers. Even the poor ass must not be a _Jew-ass but a Christian-ass. I wonder they did not make an apostle of him, or a bishop, or at least make him speak and prophesy. He could have lifted up his voice as loud as any of them. Zechariah, 1 in the first chapter of his book, indulges himself in several whims on the joy of getting back to Jerusalem. He says at the 8th verse, “I saw by night (Zechariah was a sharp- sighted seer) and behold a man setting ona red horse (yes, monde 5 a red horse), and he stood among the myrtle trees that were in the bottom, and behind him were red horses speckled and whate.’ He says nothing about green horses nor blue horses, per haps because it is difficult to Gistineaich green from blue by night, a a Christian can have no doubt they were there, because “Fuith rs the evidence of things not seen.’ Zechariah then introduces an angel among his horses, but he does not tell us what color the angel was of, whether black or white, nor whether he came to buy horses, or only to look at them as curiosities, for certainly they were of that kind. Be o however as it may, he enters into conversation with 1cel on the joyful affair of getting back to Jerusalem, an: | e Lord J am tos S 1 he D a ie Sal sith at the 1th ee a Therefore, thus saith th returned to Jerusalem with aap my house nes bel bu ane in Pe it saith the Lord of ease and a line shall be stretc ened fc uvon Jerusalem.” An expression signifying the ee Idir city. ebb ee ct Cok ere os Pe SPT rs Tee ees abe errr eT ere ed ih eae Gh ht Subse ree Aes ERSTESiri Ae 5 Aa TA, ne ag See: 37 s2a88E Petr teeet | rit ttin 184 EXAMINATION OF All this, whimsical and imaginary as it is, sufficiently proves that it was ihe entry of the Jews into Jerusalem from c: uptivity, and not the entry of Jésus Christ, seven hundred years after- wards, that is the subject upon which Zechariah is always speaking. As to the expression of riding upon an ass, which commenta- bors represent as a sign of humility in Jesus Christ, the case 1s, he never was so Sail mounted before. ‘The asses of those coun- tries are large and well-proportioned, and were anciently the chief of riding animals. Their beasts of burden, and which served also for the conveyance of the poor, were camels and dromedaries. Weread in Judges, chap. x. ver. 4, that “Jair (one of the Judges of Israel) had thirty sons that rode on thirty G@S8s-Co ts, and they had thirty cities. » But enn distort everyt hing. here is besides very reasonable grounds to conclude that this sey of Jesus riding pv ub Holy into Jerusalem, accompanied, as it is said at the 8th amo th verses , by a great multitude, shout- ing and rejoicing, and spreading their garments by the way, is altogether a story dostbete of truth. In the last passage called a prophecy that I examined, Jesus is represented as withdrawing, that is, running away, and con- cealing himself for fear of being appre shended, and ¢ harging the people that were with him not to make him known. No new circumstance had aris sen in the interim to change his condition for the better; yet here he is represented as making his public entry into the same city from which he had fied for safety. The two cases contradict each other so m auch, that if both are not talse, one of them at least can scarcely > be true. For my own part, I do not believe there is one Teed of historical truth in the whole book. I look upon it at best to be a romance, principal personage of which is an imaginary or allegorical aha acter founded upon some tale, and in which the moral i is in atin parts good, and the narrative part very badly and blunderingly written. I pass on to the tenth passage, called a prophecy of Jesus Christ. Matthew, chap. xxvi. ver. 51. ‘And behold one of them which was with Jesus (meaning Peter) stretched out his hand, and drew his sword, and struck a servant of the high priest, and smote off his ear. Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into its place, for all they that take els © pe Pp LITHE PROPHECIES. 185 the sword shall perish with the sword. Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels, But how then alia the scriptures be fulfilled that thus it must be. In that same hour Jesus said to the multitudes, are ye come out as against a thief, with swords and with staves for to take me? I sat daily eae you teaching in the temple, and ye laid no hold on me. But all this was done that the scriptures of the pro- phets might be fulfilled.” This loose and general manner of speaking, admits neither of detection nor of proof. Here is no quotation given, nor i name of any Bible author mentioned, to which reference ca be had. There are, however, some high improbabilities against the truth of the account. First—It is not probable that the Jews, who were then a conquered people, and under subjection to the Romans, should be permitted to wear swords. Secondly—Itf Peter had attacked the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear, he would have been immediately taken up by the guard that took up his master and sent to prison with nim. Thirdly—W hat sort of disciples and prea hing apostles must those of Christ have been that wore swords? Four thly—This scene 1s represented to have taken place the same evening of what is called the Lord’s supper, which makes, according to the ceremony of. it, the inconsistenc y of wearin g swords the creater. I pass on to the eleventh passage called a prophecy of Jesus Christ. Matthew, chap. xxvii. ver. 3. ‘Then Judas which had be- trayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders, saying, I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us, see thou to that. And he cast down the thirty pieces of silver, and « departed, and went and hanged himself—And the chief priests took the silver pieces and said, it is not lawful to put them into the treasury, because it is the price of blood— And they took counsel aa bought with them the potions field to bury strangers in—Whe refore that field is called the field of blood unto this day. Then was fulfilled that which eto e eC at SP eT eo? oe res ee SS tk ee dl Aqerede da abesregssseeesase: S3everere ee.186 EXAMINATION OF was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet, saying, And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him that was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value, and gave them for the potter r’s field, as the Lord appointed me.” This is a most hares faced piece of imposition. The passage in Jeremiah which speaks of the ] purchase of a field, has no more to do with the case to which Mabihew applies it, than it has to do with the purchase of lands in America. I will recite the whole passage : oes chap. xxxii. v. 6. “ And Jeremiah said, the word of the Lord came unto me, saying—Behold Hanamiel, the son of } shi wllum thine uncle, shall come unto thee, saying, buy thee my field that is in Anathoth, for the right of redemption is thine to buy it—So Hanamiel mine uncle’s son came to me in the court of the prison, according to the word of the Lord, and said unto me, buy my field I pray thee that is in Anathoth, which is in the country of Benjamin, for the right of inheri- tance is thine, and the redemption is thine ; buy it for thyself. Then T knew this was the word of the Lord—And I bou: oht the field of Hanamiel mine uncle’s son, that was in Anathoth, and weighed him the money, even seventeen shekels of silver— and I subscribed the evidence and sealed it, and took witnesses and weighed him the money in balances. ‘So I took the evi- dence of the purchase, both that which was sealed according to the law and custom, and that which was open—and I gave the evidence of the purchase unto Baruch, the son of Neriah, the son of Maasaeiath, in the sight of Hanamiel mine uncle’s son, and in the presence of the witnesses that subscribed, before all sat in the court of the prison—and I charged Te Big (eee em pe eis, a tn mm cag Deg UR TES Sat ae cies Baruch before them, saying, Thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, Take these evidences, this evidence of the pur- 7 Nee ee SNe. ene ee et des ele ge ce : chase both which is sealed, and this evidence which is open, and put them in an earthen vessel, that they may continue many the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel. 4 Ae 12 iT a ae Cie days—tfor thus saith houses, and fields, and vineyards, shall be possessed again in this land.” I forbear making any remark on this abominable imposition of Matthew. The ae Be ingly speaks for itself. Iti is priests and commentators tha rather ought to censure, for having preached falsehood so neon and kept people in darkness with respect to those impositions. I am not contending with these i men upon points of doctrine, for I know that sophistry has al-THE PROPHECIES. 187 ways a city of refuge. I am speaki ing of facts: for wherever the thing called a fact is a falsehood, the faith founded upon it is delusion, and the doctrine raised upon it not true. Ah, reader, put thy trust in thy Creator, and thou wilt be safe! but if thou trustest to the book called the scriptures, thou trustest to the rotten staff of fable and falsehood. But I return to my subject. There is, among the whims and reveries of Zechariah, men- tion made of thirty pieces of silver given to a Beton They can hardly have been so stupid as to mistake a potter for a field: and if they had, the passage in Zechariah has no more to do with Jesus, Tudas, and the field to bury strangers in, than that already quoted. I will recite the passage. Zechariah, chap. xi. ver. 7. ‘And I will feed the flock of slaughter, even you, O poor of the flock; and I took unto me two staves; the one I called Beauty, and the other I called Bands, and I fed the flock—Three shepherds also, I cut off in one month; and my soul loathed them, and their soul also abhorred me.—Then said I, I will not feed you; that which dieth, let it die; and that which is to be cut off, let it be cut off ; and let the rest eat every one the flesh of another.— And I took my staff, even Beauty, and cut it asunder, that I might break my covenant which I had made with all the people.. — And it was broken in that day ; and so the poor of the flock au waited upon me, knew that it was the word of the Lord. ‘And I said unto them, if ye think good give me my price, and if not, forbear. So they weighed for my price thirty pieces of silver. And the Lord said unto me, cast it unto the potter, a goodly price that I was prized at of them; and I took the thirty pieces of silver and cast them to the potter in the house of the Lord. “Then I cut asunder mine other staff, even Bands, that I might break the brotherhood between Judah and Israel.” * * Whiston, in his Essay on the Old Testament, says, that the passage of Zechariah of which I have spoken, was in the co} ypies of the Bible of the first century, in the book of J eremiah, from whence, says he, it was taken an imse cd without coherence, in that of Zecharia! h—well, let it be so, it does not make the case a wh it the better for the New Testament; but it m: the case a great deal the worse for the old. Because it shows fas J ee mentione Mal respecting some pé res in a book ascribed to Isaiah, that the works of different authors have been so mixed and confoun ie: { CREE d, exce ept where they are historical, chrono- te they cannot now be discrimina - Logical, or biographical, as in the interpolation in Is: aziah. It is the name of Cyrus inserted where it could not be inserted, as he was not in existence till sbbbebedesss Peetr eT Siete s oo Se. os ie ad, eqcerys tadatiesecs bh ee ee Pe ee..4 4 pie res trite ett Peet beesttireieses, besides es tr tteet ¢Pseea 82 AES $host co ey et 188 EXAMINATION OF There is no making either head or tail of this incoherent gibberish. His two staves, one called Beauty and the other Bands, is so much like a fairy tale, that I doubt if it had any other ovigin.—There is, however, no part that has the least re- lation to the case stated in Matthew ; on the contrary, it is the reverse of it. Here the thirty pieces of silver, whatever it was for, is called a goodly price, it was as much as the thing was worth, and according to the language of the day. was ap- proved of by the Lord, and the money given to the potter in the house of the Lord. In the case of Jesus and Judas, as stated in Matthew, the thirty pieces of silver were the price of blood; the transaction was condemned by the Lord, and the money when refunded, was retused: admittance into the Treasury. Everything in the two cases is the reverse of each other. Besides this, a very different and direct contrary account to that of Matthew, is given of the aftair of Judas, in the book called the Acts of the Apostles , aeccorcling to that book, the case is, that so far from Judas repenting and returning the money, and the high priest buying a field with it to bury strangers in. Judas kept the money and bought a field with 1t for himself ; and instead of hanging himself, as Matthew says, he fell head- long and burst asunder—some commentators endeavor to get over one part of the contradiction by ridiculously supposing that Judas hanged himself first and the rope broke. . Acts, chap. 1. ver. 16. “Men and brethren, this scripture must needs have been fulfilled which the Holy Ghost by the one hundred and fifty years after the time of Isaiah, that detects the inter- polation and the blunder with it. Whiston was a man of great literary learning, and what is of much higher degree, of scientific learning. He was one of the best and most celebrated mathematicians of his time, for which he was made professor of mathema- tics of the University of Cambridge. He wrote so much in defence of the Old Testament, and of what he calls prophecies of Jesus Christ, that at last he began to suspect the truth of the Scriptures, and wrote against them ; for it is only those who examine them, that see the imposition. ~ Those who believe them most, are those who know least about them. Whiston, after writing so much in defence of the Scriptures, was at last prosecuted for writing against them, It was this that gave occasion to Swift, in his ludicrous epigram on Ditton and Whiston, each of which set up to find out the longitude, to call the one good. master Ditton and the other wicked Will Whiston. But as Swift was a great associate with the Free- pe ool eaese tava suck as Bolling broke, Pope, and others, who did not ook called the scriptures, there is no certainty whether he wit- tily called him wicked for defending the scriptures, or for writing agai ae : 3G sing against them. The known character of Swift decides for the former.THE PROPHECIES. 189 mouth of David spake before concerning Judas, which was a guide to them that took Jesus. (David says not a word about Judas,) ver. 17, for he (Judas) was numbered among us and obtained part of our ministry.” Ver. 18 “ Now this man purchased a field with the reward of iniquity, and falling headlong, he burst asunder in the midst, and his bowels gushed out.” Is it not a species of blasphemy to call the New Testament revealed religion, when we see in it such contradictions and absurdities. I pass on to the twelfth passage called a prophecy of Jesus Christ. Matthew, chap. xxvii. ver. 35. “And they crucified him, and parted his garments, casting lots; that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, They parted my garments among them, and upon my vesture did they cast lots.” This expression is in the 22nd Psaim, ver. 18. The writer of that Psalm (whoever he was, for the Psalms are a collection and not the work of one man) is speaking of himself and his own case, and not that of another He begins this Psalm with the words which the New Testament writers ascribed to Jesus Christ. “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me” words which might be uttered by a complaining man without any great impropriety, but very improperly from the mouth of a reputed God. The picture which the writer draws of his own situation in this Psalm, is gloomy enough. He is not prophecying, but complaining of his own hard case. He represents himself as surrounded by enemies, and beset by persecutions of every kind; and by way of showing the inveteracy of his persecutors, he says, at the 18th verse, “They parted my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture.” The expression is in the present tense; and is the same as to say, they pursue me even to the clothes upon my back, and dispute how they shall divide them; besides, the word vesture does not always mean clothire of any kind, but property, or rather the admitting a man to, or envesting him with property; and as it is used in this Psalm distinct from the word garment, it appears to be used in this sense. But Jesus had no property; for they make him say of himself, “The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head.” But be this as it may, if we permit ourselves to suppose the Almighty would condescend to tell, by what is called the spirit POLE TCP ae Sh ere 2 recarh tt toct titrate cis eee eer eeren| oo eR Poe eedsapazexeziges ees esere) petnmeies pion oe ee eee aE Pe F 4 PPrerre Tins; et te eSoess S3SCPEs 07 5E TE et Ct SE RTSSRLITGS - Pee ee eterna sa eee SS 190 EXAMINATION OF of prophecy, what could come to pass in some future age of the world, it is an in jury to our own faculties, and to our ideas of his greatness, to imagine that it would be about an old coat, or an old pair of breec shes, or about anything which the common accidents of life, or the quarrels that attend it, exhibit every day. That which is in the power of man to do, or in his will not to do, is not a subject for prophecy, even if there wer e such a thing, because it cannot carry with it any ev idence of divine power, or divine interposition: The ways of God are not the ways of men. That which an almighty power performs, or W ills, is not within the circle of human power to do, or to con- trol. But any executioner and his assistants might quarrel about dividing the garments of a sufferer, or divide them with- out quarrelling, and by that means fulfil the thing called a prophecy or set it aside. In the passage before examined, I have exposed the false- hood of them. In this I exhibit its degrading meanness, as an insult to the Creator and an injury to human reason. Here end the passages called prophecies by Matthew. Matthew concludes his book by saying, that when Christ expired on the cross, the rocks rent, the araves opened, and the bodies of many of the saints arose; and Mark says, there was darkness over the land from the sixth hour until the ninth. They produce no prophecy for this; but had these things been facts, they would have been a proper subject for prophecy, be- cause none but an almighty power could have inspired a fore- knowledge of them, and afterwards fulfilled them. Since then there is no such prophecy, but a pretended prophecy of an old coat, the pre deduction is, there were no such things, and c that the book of Matthew is fable and falsehood. [ pass on to the book called the Gospel according to St. = Marl. THE BOOK OF MAR THERE are but few passages in Mark called prophecies, and but few in Lukeand John. Such as there are I shall examine, and also such other passages as interfere with those cited by Matthew. Mark begins his book by a passage which he puts in the shape of a prophecy. Mark, chap. i, verse 1.—‘The begin-THE PROPHECIES, 19} ning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God— eek oe ?Fttas ee" THe 3 a rN ae 194 EXAMINATION OF was thirty years of age: for he says, chap. iii. v. 23, “ And Jesus began to be about thirty years of age, being, aS was sup- posed, the son of Joseph.” The obscurity in which the historical part of th ment is involved with respect to Herod, may afford to priests and commentators a plea, which to some may appear plausible, but to none satisfactory, that the Herod of which Matthew hich Luke speaks, were different e New Testa- 1 speaks, and the Herod of w persons. Matthew calls Herod a king ; and Luke, chap. att ce l, calls Herod Tetrarch (that is, Governor) of Galilee. But {here could be no such person as a king Herod, because the Jews and their country were under the dominion of the Roman Em- perors who governed them by Tetrarchs or Governors. Luke, chap. ii. makes Jesus to be born when Cyrenius was Governor of Syria, to which government Judea was annexed, and according to this, Jesus was not born in the time of Herod. Luke says nothing about Herod seeking the life of Jesus when he was born ; nor of his destroying the children under two years old; nor of Joseph fleeing with Jesus into Egypt: nor of his returning from thence. On the contrary, the book of Luke speaks as if the person it calls Christ had never been out of Judea, and that Herod sought his life after he commenced preaching, as is before stated. Ihave already shown that Luke, 1 the book called the Acts of the Apostles (which commenta- tors ascribe to Luke), contradicts the account in Matthew, with respect to Judas and the thirty pieces of silver. Matthew says, that Judas returned the money, and that the high priests bought with ita field to bury strangersin. Luke says, that Judas kept the money, and bought a field with it for himself. As it is impossible the wisdom of God should err, so it is impossible those books should have been written by divine in- spiration. Our belief in God, and his unerring wisdom, forbids us to believe it. As for myself, I feel religiously happy in the total disbelief of it. There are no other passages called prophecies in Luke than those I have spoken of. I pass on to the book of John. THE BOOK OF JOHN. Joun, like Mark and Luke, is not much of a prophecy- monger. He speaks of the ass, and the casting lots for Jesus’ clothes, and some other trifles, of which I have already spoken.THE PROPHECIES. 195 John makes Jesus to say, chap. v. ver. 46, “ For had ye be- ieved Moses, ye would have believed me, for he wrote of me.” The book of the Acts, in speaking of Teaus, says, chap. iii. ver. 22, ‘‘ For Moses truly said unto the fathers, a Saige shall the Lord your God raise up unto you, of your brethren, like unto me, him shall ye hear in all things whatsoever he shall say unto > POU. This passage is in Deuteronomy, chap. xviii. ver. 15. They apply it as a prophecy of Jesus. What imposition! The per- son spoken of in Deuteronomy, and also in Numbers, where the same person is spoken of, is Joshua, the minister of Moses, and his immediate successor, and just such another Robespier- rean character as Moses is represented to have been. ‘The case, as related in those books, is as follows :— Moses was grown old and near to his end, and in order to prevent confusion after his death, for the Israelites had no set- tled system of government, it was thought best to nominate a successor to Moses while he was yet living. This was done, as we are told, in the following manner : Numbers, chap. xxvii. ver. 12. ‘And the. Lord said unto Moses, get thee up into this mount Abarim, and see the land which I have given unto the children of Israel—and when thou hast seen it, thou also shalt be gathered unto thy people, as Aaron thy brother i is gathered, ver. 15. And Moses naa unto the Lord, saying, Let the Lor d, the God of the spirits of all flesh, set a man over the congregation— Which may go out be- fore them, and which may go in before them, and which may lead them out, and which may bring them in. that the congre- gation of the Lord be not as sheep that have no shepherd— And the Lord said unto Moses, take thee Joshua, bie son of Nun, a man in whom is the spirit, and lay thine hand rue him—and set him before Eleazar, the priest, and before all the congregation, and give him a char ge in their sight—and thou shalt put some of thine honor upon him, that all the congre- gation of the children of Israel may be phedicnt ver 22, and Moses did as the Lord commanded, and he took Joshua, and set him before Eleazar the priest, and before all the congregation ; and he laid hands upon him, and gave him charge as the Lord commanded by the hand of “Moses.” I have nothing to do, in this place, with the truth, or the conjuration here “practised, of raising up a successor 46 Moses like unto himself. The passage sufficiently proves it is Joshue, eee eee ere canes P i ie Cee REE at eet ates TT Pees eee Siétasarrecs?<* 24 eteesdmbe, - oS Re kt heed) ‘arPeter es Pu past aey eeetetess tts Pee Pit ferecet eit eseee AX r 196 EXAMINATION OF and that it is an imposition in John to make the case into a prophecy of Jesus. But the prophecy-mongers were so inspired with falsehood, that they never speak truth.* I pass to the last passage in these fables of the Evangelists called a prophecy of Jesus Christ. John, having spoken of Jesus expiring on the cross between two thieves, says, chap. X1x. verse oo ‘Then came the soldiers and brake the | legs of the first (meaning one of the thieves) and of the other which was crucified with him But when oS came to Jesus, and saw that he was dead already, they brake not his lezs—verse 36, for these things were done that the Scriptures should be fulfilled, A bone of him shall not be broken.” The passage here referred to 1s in Exodus, and has no more to do with Jesus he with the ass he rode upon to Jerusalem ; —nor yet so much, if a roasted jack-ass, like a roasted he-goat, might be eaten at a Jewish esas [t might be some con- solation to an ass to know that though his bones might be picked they would not be broken. I go to state the case. * Newton, Bishop of Bristol in England, published a work in three vol- umes, entitled, ‘‘ Dissertations on the Prophecies.” 'The work is tediously written and tiresome to read. He strains hard to make every passage into apr ophecy that suits his purpose—Among others, he makes this expression of ] Moses, ‘tthe Lerd shali raise thee up a ‘prophe +t like unto me,” into a pro- phecy of Christ. who was not born, according to the Bible chronologies, till Pte: en hundred and fifty-two years after the time of Moses, whereas it was an immediate successor to Moses, who was then near his end, that is spoken of | 7 the passage above quoted. Lis Bishop, the better to impose this passage on the world as a prophecy of Christ, has entirely omitted the account in the book of Numbers which have given at length, word for word, and which shows, beyond the possi- bility of a doubt, that the person spoken of by Moses, is Joshua, and no other person. Newiton is but a superficial writer. He takes up things upon hearsay, and inserts them without either examination or reflection, and the more extra- ordinary and incredible they are, the better he likes them. In speaking of the walls of Babylon (volume the first, page 263), he maxes a quotation from a traveller of the name of Zavernur, whom he calls (by way of giving credit to what he says), @ celebrated traveller, that those walls were made of burnt brick, ten ae ee are aid three See thick. If Newton had only thought of calculating the weight of such a brick, he wou.d have en the impossibility of their being aia or even made. A brick ten feet e, and three feet thick, contains three hundred cubic feet, and allow- ine a cubic foot of brick to be only one hundred pounds, each of the Bishop’s br.cs woul Id weigh thirty thousand pounds ; and i it would take avout thircy cart loads of clay (one-horse carts) to make one brick. But Hie account of the stones used in the building of Solomon’s temple, (vo.ume ~ ’nd, pi age 211), far exceeds his bricks of ten feet square in the wails of Babylon; these are but brick-bats comparea to them. The stones (says he) employed in the foundat.on, were in magnitude fortyTHE PROPHECIES, 197 The book of Exodus, in instituting the Jewi which they were to eat a he-lamb or a he- verse 5, “ Your lamb shall be without bl first year: ye shall take it from the sheep or from the goats.” The book, after stating some ceremonies to be used in killing and dressing it (for it was to be roasted, not boiled), Says, ver. 43, “ And the Lord said unto Moses and Aaron, this is the ordinance of the passover: there shall] no stranger eat thereof: but every man’s servant that is bought for money, when thou hast circumcised him, then shall he eat thereof. A foreicner shall not eat thereof. In one house shall it be eaten; thou shalt not carry forth ought of the flesh thereof abroad out of the house; neither shalt thou break a bone thereof.” We here see that the case ag it stands in Exodus is a cere- mony and not a prophecy, and totally unconnected with Jesus’ bones, or any part of him. John, having thus filled up the measure of apostolic fable, sh passover, in goat, says, chap xii. emish, a male of the Re oes aE cubits, that is, above sixty feet, a cubit, says he, being somewhat more than one foot and a half (a cubit is one foot nine inches), and the superstructure (says this Bishop) was worthy of such foundat:ons. There were some stones, says he, of the whitest marble, forty-five cubits long, five cubits high, and six cubits broad. These are the dimensions this Bishop has given, which in measure of twelve inches to a foot, is 78 feet 9 inches long, 10 feet 6 inches broad, and 8 feet 3 inches thick, and contains 7,234 cubie feet. I now go to demonstrate the imposition of this Bishop. A cubic foot of water weighs sixty-two pounds anda haif, The specific gravity of marble to water is as 2 1-3 is to one. The weigat, therefore, of a cubic foot of marble is 536 pounds, which, multiplied by 7,234, the num >er of cubic feet in one of these stones, maxes the weigut of it to be 1,128,504 pounds, which is 503 tons. Allowing then a horse to draw about half a ton, it will require a thousand horses to draw one suca stone on the ground ; how then were they to be lifted into the building by human hands ? The Bishop may talk of faith removing mountains, but all the faith of all the Bishops that ever lived could not remove one of those stones and their bodily strength given in. The Bishop also tells of yreat guns used by the Turks at the taking of Con- stantino»le, one of which, he says, was drawn by seventy yoke of 0 by two thousand men. Vol. ord, page 117. “The weigat of a cannon that carries a ball of 43 pounds, which is the largest caiunon that are cast, weicas 8,000 pounds, about three tons and a half, and may be drawn by three yo.-e of oxen. Anybody may now calcu- late what tne weight of the Bishop’s great gun must be, tnat required seventy yoxe of oxen to draw it. This Bishop beats Gulliver, i When men give up the use of the divine guit of reason In writing on any subject, be it religious or anything else, there are no bounds to their eXtra vazance, no limit to tneir absurdit.es. ‘The three vo.umes woich this Bisaop has written on what he calls the pro- phec.es, contain avove 1,290 pages, aad he says in vol. 3, pave 117, “JZ have studied brevity.” This is as marvelous as the Bisaop’s great vun, xen, and SEARS AIRES PE AZo ees 2 Pee ae | Severs esis gereys easahleseets Foss tetris raseses ees ssees P. wemelgaSits ts ttckenes Cr PRLS er 3 terns Le Sat ere esas &2 198 EXAMINATION OF concludes his book with something that beats all fable ; for he says at the last verse, ‘‘ And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which if they could be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not conain the books that should be written.” his is what in vulgar life is called a thumper ; that is, not only a lie, but a lie upon the line of possibility ; besides which it is an absurdity, for if they should be written in the world, tne world would contain them.—Here ends the examination of the passages called prophecies. I HAVE now, reader, gone through and examined all the pass- ages which the four books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, quote from the Old Testamemt and call them prophecies of Jesus Christ. When I first sat down to this examination, I expected to find cause for some censure, but little did I expect to find them so utterly destitute of truth, and of all pretensions to it, as I have shown them to be. The practice which the writers of those books employ is not more false than it is absurd. They state some trifling case of the person they call Jesus Christ, and then cut out a sentence from some passage of the Old Testament and call it a prophecy of that case. But when the words thus cut out are restored to the place they are taken from, and read with the words before and after them, they give the lie to the New Testament. A short instance or two of this will suffice for the whole. They make Joseph to dream of an angel, who informs him that Herod is dead, and tells him to come with the child out of Egypt. They then cut out a sentence from the book of Hosea, “Out of Egypt have I called my Son,” and apply it as a prophecy in that case. The words “And called my Son out of Egypt,” are in the Bible;—but what of that? They are only part of a passage, and not a whole passage, and stand immediately connected with other words, which show they refer to the children of Israel coming out of Egypt in the time of Pharaoh, and to the idol- atry they committed afterwards. Again, they tell us that when the soldiers came to break the lees of the crucified persons, they found Jesus was already dead, and, therefore, did not break his They then, with some alteration of the original, cut out a sentence from Exodus, “aTHE PROPHECIES. 199 bone of him shail not be broken,” and apply it as a prophecy of that case. The words “ Newther shall ye break a bone thereof,” (for they have altered the text,) are in the Bible—but what of that? They are, as in the former case, only part of a passage, and not a whole pases: and when ead with the words they are im- mediately joined to, show it is the bones of a he-lamb or a he- goat of w vhich the passage speaks. These repeated forgeries and falsifications create a well- founded suspicion, that all the cases spoken of concerning the person called Jesus Christ are made cases, on purpose to lug in, and that very clumsily, some broken sentences from the Old Testament, and apply them as prophecies of those cases; and that so far from his being the Son of God, he did not exist even as a man—that he is merely an imaginary or allegorical character, as Apollo, as Hercules, Jupiter, and all the deities of antiquity were. There is no history written at the time Jesus Christ is said to have lived that speaks of the existence of such a person, even as a man. Did we find in any other book pretending to give a system of religion, the falsehoods, falsifications, contradictions, and absurdities, which are to be met with in almost every page of the Old and New Testament, all the priests of the present day who supposed themselves capable, would triump! iantly show their skill in criticism, and cry it down as a most glaring im- position. But since the books in question belong to their own trade and profe ssion, they, or at least many of them, seek to stifle every inquiry into them, and abuse those who have the honesty and the courage to do it. When a book, as is the case with the Old and New Testa- ment, is ushered into the world under the title of being the Worp oF Gop, it ought to be examined with the utmost strict- ness, in order to know if it has a well-founded claim to that title or not, and whether we are or are not imposed upon: for as no poison is so dangerous as that which poisons the physi: so no falsehood is so fatal as that which is made an article of faith. This examination becomes more necessary, because when the New Testament was written, I might say invented, the art of printing was not aren: and ‘the re were no other copies of the Old Testament than written copies. A written copy of that book would cost about as much as six hundred common printed PEELS TEATS tire or ee aT: J Re ee enurcn, acknow Ct ona th ee ees and the account of De Neen ie cnn ot ve and. the serpent, and the account of fraraaise, were YY oa 7 epee ee me 77 : bese W a Se et ; L : ally consiaeread as hHevlon or allegory. He regaras them y LUAU L veneralry : as allegory himself, without attempting to give any explanation but he supposes that a better explar ation might be found than those that had been offered. Origen, another early champion of the church, says, “What ae ee a = 5 1 . 1 a Ya, ; ee S a sense can ever persuade himself that there were f these days man of good a first, a second, and a third day, and that each o had a night when there were yet neither sun, moon, nor stars. What man can be stupid enough to believe that God, acting the part of a gardener, had planted a garden in the east, that the tree of life was a real tree, and that its fruit had the virtue of making those who eat of it live for ever ?” Maimonides, one of the’most learn d and celebrated of the Jewish Rabbins, who lived in the eleventh century (about seven or eight hundred years ago) and to whom the bishop refers in his answer to me, is very explicit, in his book entitled ‘‘ More Nevochim,” upon the non-reality of the things stated in the account of the Creation in the book of Genesis. “We ought not (says he) to understand, nor take according to the letter, that which is written in the book of the Creation, nor to have the same ideas of it with common men ; otherwise, our ancient sages would not have recommended, with so much sare, to conceal the sense of it, and not to raise the allegori- cal veil which envelopes the truths it contains. The book of Genesis, taken according to the letter, gives the most absurd and the most extravagant ideas of the Divinity. Whoever shall find out the sense of it, ought to restrain himself from di- vulging it. It is a maxim which all our sages repeat, and above all with respect to the work of six days. It may happen that some one, with the aid he may borrow from others, may hit upon the meaning of it. In that case he ought to impose silence upon himself; or if he speak of it, he ought to speak obscurely, and in an enigmatical manner, as I do myself, leaving the rest to be found out by those who can understand.”BISHOP OF LLANDAFF. 215 This is, certainly, a very extraordinary declaration of Mai- monides, taking all the parts of it. First, he declares, that the account of the Creation in the book of Genesis is not a fact; that to believe it to be a fact, gives the most absurd and the most extravagant ideas of the Divinity. Secondly, that it is an allegory. Thirdly, that the allegory has a concealed secret, Fourthly, that whoever can find the secret ought not to tell it. It is this last part that is the most extraordinary. Why all this care of the Jewish Rabbins, to prevent what they call the concealed meaning, or the secret, from being known, and, if known, to prevent any of their people from telling it? It cer- tainly must be something which the Jewish nation are afraid or ashamed the world should know. It must be something per- sonal to them as a people, and not a secret of a divine nature, which the more it is known, the more it increases the glory of the Creator, and the gratitude and happiness of man. It is not God’s secret, but their own, they are keeping. I go to unveil the secret. The case is, the Jews have stolen their cosmogony, that is, their account of the Creation, from the cosmogony of the Per- sians, contained in the book of Zoroaster, the Persian lawgiver, and brought it with them when they returned from captivity by the benevolence of Cyrus, King of Persia ; for it is evident, from the silence of all the books of the Bible upon the subject of the Creation, that the Jews had no cosmogony before that time. If they had a cosmogony from the time of Moses, some of their judges who governed. during more than four hundred years, or of their kings, the Davids and Solomons of their day, who governed nearly five hundred years, or of their prophets and ps Imists, who lived in the meantime, would have men- tioned it. It would, either as fact or fable, have been the grandest of ail subjects for a psalm. It would have suited to a tittle the ranting, poetical genius of Isaiah, or served as a cor- dial to the gloomy Jeremiah. But not one word nor even a whisper, does any of the Bible authors give upon the subject. To conceal the theft, the Rabbins of the second temnle have published Genesis as a book of Moses, and have enjvined se- crecy to all their people, who, by travelling, or otherwi$e, might happen to discover from whence the « osmogony was borrowed, not to tell it. The evidence of circumstances is often unanswer- Petter! Cle tot ete as Sere eee rere Poet) te) tots See etetsdmbe bak OB oh hoes “ae Peee ts tee 0aahs? Se) TSper. Soret st Pas s te: 4 216 REPLY TO THE able, and there is no other than this which I have given, that goes to the whole of the case, and this does. , Diogenes Laertius, an ancient and respectable author whom the bishop, in his answer to me, quotes on another occasion, has a passage that corresponds with the solution here given. In speaking of the religion of the Persians, as promulgated by their priests or mag, he says, the Jewish Rabbins were the success- ors of their doctrine. Having thus spoken on the plagiarism, and on the non-reality of the book of Genesis, I will give some additional evidence that Moses is not the author of that book. Eben-Ezra, 2 celebrated Jewish author, who lived about seven hundred years ago, and whom the bishop allows to have been a man of great erudition, has made a great many observations, too numerous to be repeated here, to show that Moses was not, and could not be, the author of the book of Genesis, nor any of the five books that bear his name. Sninosa, another learned Jew, who lived about a hundred and thirty years ago, recites, In his ‘“ Treatise on the Ceremonies of the Jews, Ancient and Modern,” the observations of Eben- Lt 1 pee aif Nee ene net A ealatae ate i Cn i m Ezra, to which he adds many otners, to show that Moses is not the author of these books. He also says, and shows his reasons for saying it, that the Bible did not exist as a book, till the time of the Maccabees, which was more than a hundred years after the return of the Jews from the Babylonian captivity. In the second part of the ‘ Age of Reason,” I have, among other things, referred to nine verses in the 36th chapter of Genesis, beginning at the 31st verse, ‘‘ These are the kings that reigned in Edom, before there reigned any king over the children of Israel,” which is impossible could have been written by Moses, or in the time of Moses, and could not have been written until after the Jew kings began to reign in Israel, which was not til! several hundred years after the time of Moses. The bishop allows this, and says “I think you say true.” But he then quibbles, and says, that a small addition to a book does not destroy either the genuineness or authenticity of the whole book. ‘This is priestcraft. These verses do not stand in the book as an addition to it, but as making a part of the whole book, and which it is impossible that Moses could write. ‘The bishop would reject the antiquity of any other book if it could be proved from the words of the book itself that a part of it could not have been written till several hundred years after the reputed author of it was dead. He would call such a book aa BISHOP OF LLANDAFF. 27 forgery. Iam authorised, therefore, to call the book of Genesis a forgery. Combining, then, all the foregoing circumstances together respecting the antiquity and authenti icity of the book of Genesis, a conclusion will naturally follow therefrom ; those circum- stances are, First, that certain parts of the book cannot possibly have been written by Moses, and that the other parts carry no evi- dence of having been written by hin Secondly , the universal silence of all the following books of the Bible, on about a thousand years, upon the extr: vordinary things spoken of in Genesis, such as the creation of the world in six days—the garden of Eden—the tree of knowledge—the tree of life—the story of Eve and the serpent—the fall of man, and his being turned out of this fine garden, together with Noah’s flood, and the tower of Babel. Thirdly, the silence of all the books of the Bible upon even the name of Moses, from the book of Joshua until the second book of Kings, which was not written till after the capti vity, for ib gives an account of the captivity, a period of about a thous and years. Strange that a man who is proclaimed as the historian of the Creation, the privy-counsellor and confidant of the Almighty—the legislator of the Jewish nation, and the founder of its ‘religion ; strange, I say, that even the name of such a man should not find a place in their books for a thousand years, if they knew or believed anything about him, or the books he is said to have written. Fourthly, the opinion of some of the most celebrated of the Jewish commentators, that Moses is not the author of the book of Genesis, founded on the reasons given for that opinion. Fifthly, the opinion of the early Christian writers, and of the great champion of Jewish literature, Maimonides, that the book of Genesis is not a book of facts. Sixthly, the silence imposed by all the Jewish Rabbins, anc by Maimonides himself, upon the Jewish nation, not to speak of anything they may happen to know, or discover, respecting the cosmogony (or creation of the world) in the book of Genesis. From these circumstances the following conclusions ofter— First, that the book of Genesis is not a book of facts, Secondly, that as no mention is made throughout the Bible of any of the extraordinary things related in Genesis, that it has not been written till after the other books were written, and put agAGtsageetrsigds eh ert sr} ee tk ee be rere States est *ao04 s Peere ry stigevise?PPS po UPEs se 218 REPLY TO THE tad as a preface to the Bible. Every one knows that a preface to a Whol. though it stands first, is the last written. Thirdly, that the silence impose .d by all the Jewish Rabbins, and by Ma aimonides upon the Jewish nation, to keep silence upon. every thing related in their cosmogony, evinces a secret they are not willing should be known. The secret, therefore, explains itself to be, that when the Jews were in captivity in Babvlon and Persia, they became ac -quainted with the cosmogony of the Persians, as registered i in the Zend-Avesta, of Zoroas ster, the Persian la Welv er. which, after their return from captiv EY they manufactured and modelled as their own, and ante-dated 1 by giving to it the name of Moses. ‘The case admits of no mites explanation. From ail which it appears that the book of Genesis, instead of being the oldest book in the world, as the bishop ¢ calls it, has been the last written book of the Bible, and that the cosmogony it contains has been manufactured. iu ON THE NAMES IN THE BOOK OF GENESIS. Everything in Genesis serves as evidence, or sympt om, that the book has been co1 nposed in some late period of the as >wish nation. Ev ef the names ment ioned 1 in it serve to this pur pose. Nothing is more common or more natural, than to name the children of succeeding generations after the names of those who had been celebrated in some former generation. This holds good w ith respect to ¢ ll the people and all the histories we know of, and it does not hold good with the Bible. There must be some eS GaAUSE for U1S. This book of Genesis tells us of a man whom it calls a and of his sons Abel and of Enoch who lived 365 years (1U exactly the number ¢ ys ina year), a nd that then God. took him up. It has the appearance of be a o taken from some allegory of the Gentiles on the commencement an ad Ue mination of the year by the progress of the sun thre woh the twelve siens a+ the Zadiae eo nae tne S llagn Lae 8 ee FeN a or the Zod1ac, on WoOICHn UNe all vorical re€i1l910n Of toe Gentiles eee isle a Tia D x was rounded. 1) Bp A nk ue ha ieeeadl. GRO vena eae it tellS us OF JMLetnuselal Woo lived 969 years, and of a long i oa } SEA D es 2h Oy - ‘ } ets pee traib of other names in the uith chapter Lt then passes on to } ; a NI 1 Te : Qi] t 2 man whom it calls Noah, and his sons, Shem, Ham, and then to Lot, Abraham, Isaac and hace and his son = § ; eee | OL WrenesIS LHISNes Japhet: 74 7 L 14 han! with which the book 7 | . . t Alt t oe according to the account given in that book, were } cc my the most extraordinary and celebrated of men. 1ey were . Lne VW \Y >BISHOP OF LLANDAFF. 219 moreover, heads of families. Adam was the father of the world. NOE ch, for his righteousness, was taken up to heaven. Methu- selah lived to almost a pioaae nd years. He was the son of E; Pa the man of 365, the number of days in a year. It has the appearance of being the continuation of an ah egory on the 365 days of a year, ad its abundant production Noah was selected from all the world to be preserv red when it was drowned, and became the second father of the world. Abraham was the father of the faithful multitude. Isaac and Jacob were the inheritors of his fame, and the last was the father of the twelve tribes. ae if these very wonderful men and their names, and the book that records them, had been known by the Jews , before the Baby lonian captiv ity, those names would have been as com- mon among the Jews before that period as they have been since. We now hear of thousands of Abrahams, Isaacs, and Jacobs among the Jews, but there were none of that name before the Babylonian captivity. The Bible does not mention one, though from the time that Abraham is said to have lived, to the time ‘of the Babylonian captivity, is about 1400 yore How is it to be accounted for, that there have been so many thousands, and perhaps hundreds of thousands of Jews of the names of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob since that period, and not one before? It can be accounted for but one way, which is that before the Babylonian captivity, the Jews had no such book as Genesis, nor knew anything of the names and persons it men- tions, nor of the things it relates, and that the stories in it have been manufactured since that time. From the Arabic name Ibrahim (which is the manner the Turks write that name to this day) the Jews have most probably manufactured their I will advance my observations a point further, and speak of the names of Moses and Aaron, mentioned for the first time in the book of Exodus. There are now, and have continued to be from the time of the Babylonian captivity, or soon after it, thousands of Jews of the names of Moses and Aaron, and we read not of any of that name before ey time. The Bible does not mention one. The direct inference from this is, that the Jews knew of no such book as Exo a before the Babylonian captivity. In fact, that it did not exist before that time, and that it is only since the book has been invented, that the names of Moses and Aaron have been common among the Jews. SPSSAP ARP AAE AS QoS Es § Deke oath Sit ebeheee te tee Ptr tee eeePerera ete siiees Peet ry ed oS ee oi bk a) zi] hehe ra ri 3 Sites es ee) 220 REPLY TO THE It is applicable to the purpose, to observe, that the pictifresque work, called Mosaic-work, spelled the same as you would say the Mosaic account of the creation, is not derived from the word Moses but from Muses (the Muses, because of the variegated and picturesque pavement in the temples dedicated to the dMuses). This carries a strong implication that the name Moses is drawn from the same source, and that he is not a real but an allegori- cal person, as Maimonides describes what is called the MJosaze account of the creation to be. I will goa point still further. The Jews now know the book of Genesis, and the names of all the persons mentioned in the first ten chapters of that book, from Adam to Noah: yet we do not hear (I speak for myself) of any Jew of the present day, of the name of Adam, Abel, Seth, Enoch, Methuselah, Noah, * Shem, Ham, or Japhet (names mentioned in the first ten chap- ters), though these were, according to the account in that book, the most extraordinary of all the names that make up the cat- alogue of the Jewish chronology. The names the Jews now adopt are those that are mentioned in Genesis after the tenth chapter, as Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, &c. How then does it happen, that they do not adopt the names found in the first ten chapters? Here is evidently a lne of division drawn between the first ten chapters of Genesis, and the remaining chapters, with respect to the adoption of names. There must be some cause for this, and I go to offer a solution of the problem. The reader will recollect the quotation I have already made from the Jewish Rabbin, Maimonides, wherein he says, ‘‘ We ought not to understand nor to take according to the letter that which is written in the book of the creation. It is a maxim (says he) which all our sages repeat above all, with respect to the work of six days.” The qualifying expression above all, implies there are other parts of the book, though not so important, that ought not to be understood or taken according to the letter, and as the Jews do not adopt the names mentioned in the first ten chapters, it appears evident those chapters are included in the injunction not to take them in a literal sense, or according to the letter ; from which it follows, that the persons or characters mentioned in the first ten chapters, as Adam, Abel, Seth, Enoch, Methu- %* Noah is an exception ; there are many of that name among the Jews,— Epiror.BISHOP OF LLANDAFF. QT selah, and so on to Noah, are not real but fictitious or allegorical persons, and, therefore, the Jews do not adopt their names into their families. {f they affixed the same wee of reality to them as they do to those that follow after the tenth cha apter, the names of Adam, Abel, Seth, &c., would be as common among the Jews of the present day, as are those of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses and Aaron. In the s superstition they have been in, scarcely a Jew family would have been without an “noch, as a presage of his going to heaven as ambassador for the hots family Ev ery mother who wished that the days of her son might be long un the land would call him Methuselah ; and all the Jews that might have to tra- verse the ocean would be named Noah, as a charm against ship- wreck and drowning. This is domestic evidence against the book of Genesis, which jomed to the several kinds of evidence before recited, shows the book of Genesis not to be older than the Babylonian cap- tivity, and to be fictitious. I proceed to fix the character and antiquity of the book of J OB. The book of Job has not the least appearance of being a book of the Jews, and though printed among the books of the Bible, does not belong toit. There is no reference in it to any Jew ish law or ceremony. On the contrary, all the internal evidenc: it contains shows it to be a book of the Gentiles, either o Persia or Chaldea. The name of Job does not appear to be a Jewish name. There is no Jew of that name in any of the books of the Bible, neither is there now that I ever heard of. The country where Job is said or supposed to have lived, or rather where the scen: of the drama is laid, is called Uz, and there was no place of that name ever belonging to the Jews. If Uz is the same as Ur, it was in Chaldea, or the country of the Gentiles. The Jews can give no account how they came by this book, nor who was the author, nor the time when it was written. Origen, in his work against Celsus (in the first ages of the C i ecaa ee ch), says, that the book of Job ws older iin Moses. Eben-Ezra, the ean commentator, whom (as I have before said) the ieee allows to have been a man of great erudition, and who cert tainly understood his own language, Says, that the book of Job has been translated from another language inte eet eee et ee tpacagagag ee re eee ke errr? Ss a ohare, Paes te Pears Peetea Poteet set ec S eats Sees 229) REPLY TO THE Hebrew. Spinosa, another Jewish commentator of great learn- ing, confirms the opinion of Hben-Hzra, and says moreover, “Je crois que Job étart Gentile ;” * I believe that Job was a Gentile. The bishop (in his answer to me) says, “ that the structure of the whole book of Job, in whatever light of history or drama it be considered, is founded on the belief that prevailed with the Persians and Chaldeans, and other Gentile nations, of a ood and an evil spirit. In speaking. of the eood and evil spirit of the Persians, the bishop writes them Arimanius and Oromasdes. IT will not dis- pute about the orthography, because I know that translated names are differently spelled in different languages. But he has nevertheless made a capital error. He has put the devil first ; for Arimanius, or, as it is more generally written, Ahri- man, is the evil spirit, and Oromasdes or Ormusd the good spirit. He has made the same mistake in the same paragraph, in speaking of the good and evil spirit of the ancient Egyptians, Osiris and Typho, he puts Typho before Osiris. The error is just the same as if the bishop in writing about the Christian religion, or in preaching a sermon, were to say the Devil and God. A priest ought to know his own trade better. We agree, however, about the structure of the book of Job, that it is Gen- tile. I have said in the second. part of the “ Age of Reason,” and given my reasons for it, that the drama of wt is not Hebrew. From the testimonies I have cited, that of Origen, who, about fourteen hundred years ago, said that the book of Job was more ancient than Moses; that of Eben-Ezra, who, in his “ Commen- tary on Job,” says, it has been translated from another language (and consequently from a Gentile language) into Hebrew ; that of Spinosa, who not only says the same thing, but that the author of it was a Gentile ; and that of the bishop, who says that the structure of the whole book is Gentile. It follows then, in the first place, that the book of Job is not a book of the Jews orie d book of religion belongs, we must compare it with the leading 1 YX = oO ne yy. hnaity. hen, in order to determine to what people or nation any ol dogmas or precepts of that people or nation; and, therefore, upon WES ete am eh ee Bor aL y . e = =i the bishop’s own construction, the book of Job belongs either to A. j I ha a) je Daraiang th Ch. ] ‘ vy +i] Oey acs be } > ~ .e ancient Persians, the Chaldeans, or the Egyptians; because * Spinosa on the ceremonies of the Jews, page 296, nublished in French Se ee a CRIT at Amsterdam, 1678.BISHOP OF LLANDAFF. the structure of it is consistent with the dogma they held, that of a good and evil spirit, called in Job, God anc Satan, existing as. distinct and separate beings, and it is not consistent with any dogma of the Jews. The behef of a good and an evil spirit, existing as distinct and separate beings, is not a dogma to be found in any of th books of the Bible. It is not till we come to the New Testa- ment that we he hear of any such dogma. There the person { called the Son of God, holds conversation with Satan on a mountain, as familiarly as is represented in the drama‘of Job. Consequently the bishop cannot say, in 1 aah Testament is founded upon the Old. According to the Old, the God of the Jews was the God of everything. All eood and evil came from him. According to Exodus, it was God, and not the Devil, that hardened Pharaoh’s heart. According to the book of Samuel, it was an evil spirit from God shat troubled Saul. And Ezekiel makes God to say, in speaking of the Jews, ‘‘I gave them thé statutes that® were not oe ane judgments by which they should not live.” The bible describes the God of Abraham, eee, and Jacob in such a sont Ree manner, and under such a two-fold character, there would be no knowing when he was in earnest and when in irony ; when to believe and when not. As to the precepts, principles, and 1aaxims, in the book of Job, they show that the people, abusively called the heathen in the books of the Jews, had the most sub- lime ideas of the Creator, and the most exalted devotional moral- ity. It was the Jews who dishonored God. It was the Gen- tiles who glorified him. As to the fabulous personifications introduced by the Greeks and Latin poets, it was a corruption of the ancient religion of the Gentiles, which consisted in the adoration of a, fir sb cause of the works of the creation, in which the sun was the great visible agent. It appears to have been a religion of gratitude and adoration, and not of prayer and discontented solicitation. In Job we find adoration and submission, but not prayer. Even the ten commandments enjoin not prayer. Prayer has been added to devotion by the church of Rome, as the instrument of fees and perquisites. All prayers by the priests of the Christian church, whether public or private, must be paid for. It may be right, individually, to pray for virtues, or mental instr uction, but not for things. It is an attempt to dictate to the Almighty in the government of the world. But to return to the book of Job. ee “elec fe | Ulli LOESVDeCcl, that vpé ET Er ire veer sre eeee rss ‘225! er} siezaserrecs? ++ Pd la amesee pis feeseese, george heats phe aedShe pae 2434 Oe a re eee Li Leh: ead eras eet sees eyegeeses Past EEA OGR CS thd f, of sentiment, and aboun O94 REPLY TO THE As the book of Job decides itself to be a book of the Gen- tiles, the next thing is to find out to what particular nation it belongs, and lastly, what is its antiquity. As a composition it 1s sublime, beautiful and scientific: full ding in grand metaphorical description. The dramatis persone, the persons performing the several parts, are regularly in troduced and speak without interruption or confusion. The scene, as I have before said, is laid in the country of the Gentiles, and the unities, vhough not always necessary in a drama, are observed here as strictly as the subject would admit. In the last act, where the Almighty is introduced as speak- ing from the whirlwind, to decide the controversy between Job and his friends, it is an idea as grand as poetical imagination ean conceive. What follows of Job’s future prosperity does not belong to it as a drama. It is an epilogue of the writer, as the frst verses of the first chapter, which gave an account of Job, his country and hiseriches, are the prologue. The book carries the appearance of being the work of some of the Persian Magi, not only because the structure of it corres- ponds to the dogmas of the religion of those people, as founded by Zoroaster, but from the astronomical references in it to the constellations of the zodiac and other objects in the heavens, of which the sun, in their religion called Mithra, was the chief. Job, in describing the power of God (Job ix. ver. 27), says, « Who commandeth the sun, and it riseth not, and sealeth up the stars—who alone spreadeth out the heavens, and treadeth upon the waves of the sea—who maketh Arcturus, Orion, and Pleiades, and the chambers of the south.” All this astronomi- cal allusion is consistent with the religion of the Persians. Establishing then the book of Job, as the work of some of the Persian, or Eastern Magi, the case naturally follows, that when the Jews returned from captivity, by the permission of Cyrus, king of Persia, they brought this book with them : had ++ translated into Hebrew, and put into their scriptural canons, which were not formed till after their return. This will account for the name of Job being mentioned in Ezekiel) Hzekiel, chap. xiv., v. 14), who was one of the captives, and also for its not being mentioned in any book said or supposed to have been written before the captivity. Among the astronomical allusions in the book, there is one which serves to fix its antiquity. It is that where God is made As a drama, it is regular.BISHOP OF LLANDAFF. 925 to say to Job, in the style of reprimand, “ Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades.” (Chap. xxxviii., ver. 3] ) As the explanation of this depends upon astronomical calculation, I will, for the sake of those who would not otherwise under. stand it, endeavor to explain it as clearly as the subject will admit. The Pleiades are a cluster of pale, milky stars, about the size of a man’s hand, in the constellation Taurus, or in Kuglish, the Bull. It is one of the constellations of thie zodiac, of which there are twelve, answering to the twelve months of the year Lhe Pleiades are visible in the winter nights, but not in the summer nights, being then below the horizon The zodiac is an imaginary belt or circle in the heavens, eighteen degrees broad, in which the sun apparently makes his annual course, and in which all the planets move. When the sun appears to our view to be between us and the group of stars forming such or such a constellation, he is said to be in that constellation. Consequently the constellations he appears to be in, in the summer, are directly opposite to those he appeared tp in the winter, and the same in respect to spring and autumn The zodiac, besides being divided into twelve constellations, is also, like every other circle, great or small, divided into 360 equal parts, called degrees; consequently each constellation contains 30 degrees. The constellations of the zodiac are een erally called signs, to distinguish them from the constellations that are placed out of the zodiac, and this is the name I shall now use. The precession of the equinoxes is the part most difficult to explain, and it is on this that the explanation chiefly depends. The equinoxes correspond to the two seasons of the year when the sun makes equal day and night. The following is a disconnected part of the same work, and is now (1824) Jirst published. SABBATH, OR SUNDAY. The seventh day, or more properly speaking the period of seven days, was originally a numerical division of time and nothing more; and had the bishop been acquainted with the history of astronomy, he would have known this. The annual revolution of the earth makes what we call a year. 15 oy Pr reEPevey eerie eer ty Pestrer tre eee eel ore ee ba hae ee Psstssgeewd it226 REPLY TO THE The vear is artificially divided into months, the months into weeks of seven days, tl ‘ e ‘e davs into hours, &c. The period of : 2 4) bas acs oS Phe t bs ot aD oe ee eat seven days, like any other of the artificial divisions of tne year, “ ey e . s e gues ad a es 3 Be eet ‘s onlv a fractional part thereot, contrived for the convenience a J L - Pa “yey x OL COUTUTILEsS. JUAL Took s : aie Se Res a ae a eae [t is ignorance, imposition, and priest-cratt, that have called . eh rn eee hese at os Wee ee} " EAS of ey AL it otherwise. They might as well talk or tne Lord’s montn, Or 7 }? munis wdta hair Car TenwAlto ae A 1) the Lord’s week, of the Lord’s hour, as or the Loras day. Al time is his, and no part of it is more holy or more saci ed than ‘ ee ee | yay Bee Gee aL however, necessary to vhe tral ie OL a pr 1est, Lit another. it 1S, } Bq Te ee A coo ALTO? f davs hat he should preach up a aistinculon O aays. A i “ ls ear eres ed Z ed and carried to Before the secleace of astronom) Was sl udi 2 : BR Ray te ee ce EE ae ere i the degree of eminence to which 1t was D the Egyptians and Chaldeans, the people of those times had no other helps, than what common observation of the very visible changes of the sun and moon afforded, to enable them to keep an account of the progress of time. As far as history establishes the point, the Egyptians were the first people who divided the year into twelve mont Herodotus, who lived above two thousand two hundred years ago, and is the most ancient historian whose ae Ns. works have reached our time, says, they did this by the know- Ige they had of the stars. As to the Jews, there 1s not one cle improvement in any science or in any scientific art, that they ever produced. They were the most ignorant of all the ‘literate world. Ifthe word of the Lord had come to them, as they pretend, and as the bishop professes to believe, and that they were to be the harbingers of it to the rest of the world; the Lord would have taught them the use of letters, and the art of printing ; for without the means of communicat- ing the word, it could not be communicated ; whereas letters were the invention of the Gentile world; and printing the modern world. But to return to my subject— Before the helps which the science of astronomy afforded, the people as before said, had no other, whereby to keep an account of the progress of time, than what the common and very visible changes of the sun and moon aiforded. ‘They saw that a great number of days made a year, but the account of them was too tedious, and too. difficult to be kept numerically, from one to three hundred and sixty-five; neither did they know the true time of a solar year. It, therefore, became necessary, for the purpose of marking the progress of days, to put them into small parcels, such as are now called weeks ; and which consisted asBISHOP OF LLANDAFF, they now do of seven days. By this means the memory was assisted as it is with us at this day ; for we do not say of any thing that is past, that it was fifty, sixty, or seventy days ago, } . | i+ urad ¢ cae out that 1t was $0 many weeks, or, if longer time, so many months. It . impossible to keep an account of time without helps of this kind. Julian Scaliger, the inventor of the Julian period of 7,980 years, produced by multiplying the cycle of the moon, the cycle of the sun, and the years of an indict lon, 28: hes into each other; says, that the custom of reckoning by periods of seven days was used by the thirst entay the FE; cyptians, the Hebre WS, the people of India, the Arabs, and by all the. nations of the east. In addition to what Scaliger says, it is evident that in Britain, in Germany, and the north of Europe, they reckoned by periods of seven days, long before the book called the bible, was known in those parts; and, consequently, that they did not take that mode of reckoning from anything written in that book. That they reckoned by periods of seven days is evident from their having seven names and no more for the several days; and which have not the most distant relation to anything in the book of Genesis, or to that which is called the fourth com- mandment. Those names are still retained in England, with no other alteration than what has been produced by moulding the Saxon and Danish languages into modern English. 1. Sun-day, Sunne the sun, and dag, day, Saxon. Sundag, Danish. The day dedicated to the sun. 2. Monday, that is, moonday, from Mona, the moon, Saxon. Moano, Danish. Day dedicated to the moon. 3. Tuesday, that is, Z’ues-co’s-day. The day dedicated to the Idol T’wsco. 4, Wednes-day, that is Woden’s-day. The day dedicated to Woden, the Mars of the Germans. 5. Thurs-day, that is Thor’s-day, dedicated to the Idol Thor. 6. Friday, thatis Friga’s-day. The day dedicated to Praga, the Venus of the Saxons. Saturday from Seaten (Saturn), an Idol of the Saxons ; one of the emblems representing time, which continually terminates and renews itself: the last day of the period of seven days. When we see a certain mode of reckoning general among Pees fs ESP Ere Terr et cere ed poe ee rs eee ad rarer mi $:se#422° ere eee ee ads from some BN al alike over a and w! x p = Bie common cause, prevalil : 7 Py aoe a eee en one in the s: Thus all nations have rec a eter arithmet tically number W or] { i ° i SO { gen erally Z i sable to all of seven d planet, their natural : 4 : 1 WH 2 i oes ntion round +t} ATA TI perzorms ner I i revolution round tne eartn , ha i 1 ( sn Oa ees Be in t € aay Natit S Trom &@ Dew moon to a vue 90n, tO a Il 1, to a [Oo0OUS OY CONVe> J a a me } ‘ 17 Wanh af thace ch Inovac er- an Gh 1 hen to oO 1e Vi Mooi an Ligh HuaCii O11 LLLO SC UlLLAILZE OS is Pp > 7 Is tne Fae 1 in seven days and nine hours; but seven days numbers that ec id € to reckon 1 UL we 1ce 1U 1S 1M} } ye d iSD osed O} q lave 5 d ee Wi i on pas elve months of alendar, or . all cas a itis done by the adc it can nes in no otherwise. The bishop kn the ee year does not end at the termination of ll a day, but runs some hours into the next day, as the rters of the Moon runs some hours ®eyond seven days; that it is impossjble to give the year any e > pm t will not in course of years become b Pixed number ofBISHOP OF LLANDAFF, wrong and make a complementary time nominal year parallel with the solar year. been the case witl h those who regulate revolutions. They would have nec Cessary to keep the The same ast have ted time forr nerly by lunar to add three days to every Vt c ¥ second moon, or in that proportion, in order e ae e the ne moon and the new week commence together like the 1 nominal year and the solar year. s10dorus Of Sicily, who, as before said, iived ] ie] was born, in giving an account of times much wh, speaks of years of three mo} ths, of four months. und of six months. These e could be of no othe than years composed of lunar revolutio ns, and, therefore. to bring the several. periods of seven days, to agree with such v: ars there must have been comple ementary days. ry f= j a : 1 ihe moon was the first almanac the world knew: a 1d 1 gee! st AST Pe ee Eo lin Ake Al Only one w hich the face Of the heavens aff orded to common Elian aiancan ail Y Trevr } 7 a1 Spec tators. rLey ene Ss ana hei ECV lutions nave entered cae all the Calendars that have been known in the | KNOWN la es ee £ Reise dik dae Te a ios Lhe division of the year into twelve month; 1, a8 before - H x7 a eer FAT a es + 7 shown, was first done by the Kgyptians, though ar ranged with » 7 FS . 1 ] iS 3 astronomical knowledge, had reference to the twelve moons, or Fore 4 7 anaes <. ae =e is 4 more propel ly speaking, to the twelve lunar revolutions that pear in the space of a solar year; as the period of seven days had reference to one revolution of the moon. The feasts of th Jews were, and those of the Christian church still are, reeu lated by the moon. The Jews observed the fe asts of the new moon and full moon, and, therefore, the period of seven days TX vas necessary to them. the feasts of the Christian church are reculated by the moon. That called Easter governs al] the rest, Ail and the moon overns Easter. It is always the first § Sunday after the oe ull moon that happens after the vernal eee or 21s 7 7 | ) Lie 1A YiLarc 1 proportion as the science of astronomy was studied and oved by the Egyptians and Chaldeans, and the solar year regu ai ited by astronomical observations, the custom of peekOn: ing by lunar revolutions became of less use, and in time di ontinued. But such is the harmon y of all parts the machinery of the universe, that a calculation made trom the motion of one part will corre espond with the motion of some other. eet eee Clk Tt eres ee? fe] Raat STE ee hao PTT ert yt). Sette - eae tS a abe et PLEA 3 eee eet ee creat | as a ofe5SGSL5 . aniE sapeieititiesez 2 Ps 34) i22 Pett ie sesee Mia s2 3 s7tTStesé co eS ' a . : 230 REPLY TO THE The period of seven days deduced from the revolution of the moon round the earth, correspond nearer than any other period of days would do to the revolution of the earth round the sun. Fifty-two periods of seven days make 364, which is within one day and some odd hours of a solar year; and there is no other neriodical number that will do the same, till we come to the number thirteen, which is too great for common use, and the nuwhers before seven are too small. The custom, therefore, of reckoning by periods of seven days, as best suited to the revo- lution of the moon, applied with equal convenience to the solar year, and became united with it. But the decimal division of time, as regulated by the French Calen dar, is superior to every other method. There is no part of the Bible that is supposed to have been written by persons who lived beiore {he time of Josiah, (which was a thousand years after the time of Moses,) that mentions anything about the sabbath as a day consecrated to that which ss called the fourth commandment, or that the Jews kept any such day. Had any such day beer. kept, during the thousand years of whieh I am speaking, 3+ certainly would have been mentioned frequently ; and that 4 should never be mentioned, is strong presumptive and circnmstantial evidence that no such day was kept. But mentioy 1s often made of the feasts of the new moon, and of the full moop ; for the Jews, as before shown, worshipped the moon; and the word sabbath was applied by he Jews to the feasts af thet planet, and to those of their other deities. It is said in. Hosea, chap. ii. verse 11, in speak- ing of the Jewish nation, “ And I will cause all her mirth to cease, her feast-days, ber new-moons, and her sabbaths, and all her solemn feasts.” Nobody will be so foolish as to contend that the sabbaths here spoken of are Mosaic sabbaths. The construction of the verse implies they are lunar sabbaths, or sabbaths of the moon. It ought also to be observed that Hosea lived in the time of Ahaz and Hezekiah, about seventy years before the time of Josiah, when the law called the law of Moses is said to have been found; and, consequently, the sabbaths that Hosea speaks of are sabbaths of the idolatry. When those priestly reformers (impostors I should call then:), Hilkiah, Ezra, and Nehemiah, began to produce books under the name of the books of Moses, they found the word sabbath in use: and as to the period of seven days, it is, like numbering arithmetically by tens, from time immemorial. ButBISHOP OF LLANDAFF. Zot having found them in use, they continued to make them serve to the support of their new imposition. They trumped up a story of the creation being made in six days, and of the Creator resting on the seventh, to suit with the lunar and chronological period of seven days; and they manufactured a commandment to agree with both. Impostors always work in this manner. They put fables for originals, and causes for effects. There is scarcely any part of science, or anything in nature, which those impostors and blasphemers of science, called priests, as well Christians as Jews, have not, at some time or other, perverted, or sought to pervert to the purpose of superstition and falsehood. Everything wonderful in appearance has been ascribed to angels, to devils, or to saints. Everything ancient has some legendary tale annexed to it. The common operations of nature have not escaped their practice of corrupting every- thing. FUTURE STATE. The idea of a future state was an universal idea to all nations except the Jews. At the time and long before Jesus Christ and the men called his disciples were born, it had been sub- limely treated of by Cicero in his book on old age, by Plato, Socrates, Xenophen, and other of the ancient theologists, whom the abusive Christian church calls heathen. Xenophon repre- sents the elder Cyrus speaking after this manner :— “Think not, my dearest children, that when I depart from you, I shall be no more; but remember that my soul, even while I lived among you, was invisible to you ; yet by my ac- tions you were sensible it existed in this body. Believe it therefore existing still, though it be still unseen. How quickly would the honors of illustrious men perish after death, if their souls performed nothing to preserve their fame? For my own part, I could never think that the soul, while in a morta] body, lives, but when departed from it dies ; or that its consciousness is lost, when it is discharged out of an unconscious habitation. But when it is freed from all corporeal alliance, it is then that it truly exists.” Since, then, the idea of a future existence was universal, it may be asked, what new doctrine does the New Testament con- tain? I answer, that of corrupting the theory of the ancient ett et ee ete ed Stezasarrecs?++** errer tt as ik ea 8 8 bea. hd—— ELEC SEES EL EALA PEEL ea eeeei ees ates a4 ey eee ‘ed 4 ad Pee ates ti tate a a Or 232 REPLY TO THE theologists, by annexing to it the heavy and gloomy doctrine of the resurrection of the body. As to the resurrection of the body, whether the same body or another, it is a miserable conceit, fit only to be preached to man as an animal. It is not worthy to be called doctrine. Such an idea never entered the brain of any visionary but those of the Christian church ;—yet it is in this that the novelty of the New Testament consists. All the other matters serve but as props to this, and those props are most wretchedly put together. MIRACLES. The Christian church is full of miracles. In one of the churches of Brabant, they show a number of cannon falls, which, they say, the virgin Mary in some former war, caught in her muslin apron as they came roaring out of the cannon’s mouth, to prevent theix hurting the saints of her favorit: army. She does no such feats now-a-days. Perhaps the reason is, that the infideis have taken away her muslin apron. They show also, betweem Montmartre and the village of St. Denis, several places where they say St. Denis stopt with his head in his hands after i¢ had been cut off at Montmartre. The Protes- tants will call those things lies ; and where is the proof that all the other thinys Called miracles are not as great lies as those. (There appears to be an omission here in the copy. | Christ, say those Cabalists, came in the fulness of time. And pray what is the fulness of time? The words admit of no idea. They are perfectly Cabalistical. ‘Time is a word invented to describe to our conception a greater or less portion of eternity. It may be a minute, a portion of eternity measured by the vi- bration of a pendulum of a certain length ;—it may be a day, a year, a hundred, or a thousand years, or any other quantity. Those portions are only greater or less comparatively. The word fulness applies not to any of them. The idea of fulness of time cannot be conceived. A woman with child and ready for delivery, as Mary was when Christ was born, may be said to have gone her full time; but it is the woman that is full, not time. It may also be said figuratively, in certain cases, that the times are full of events ; but time itself is incapable of beingBISHOP OF LLANDAFF, 2333 full of itself. Ye hypocrites! learn to speak intelligible lan- guage. it happened to be a time of peace when they say Christ was born ; and what then? There had been many such intervals : and have been many such since. Time was no fuller in a ny of them than in the other. If he were he would be faller 20% than he ever was before. If he was full then be must be bursting now. Bui peace or war have relation to circum~ stances, and not to time; and those Cabalists would be ai as much Joss to make out any meaning to fulness of circum- stances, as to fulness of time; and if “they couid, it would be fatal; for fulness of circumstances would mean, Shen there are no more circumstances to happen; and fulness of time when there is no more time to follow. Christ, therefore, like every other person, was neither in the fulness of one nor ae other. But though we cannot conceive the idea of fulness of tle, because we Saat have conce ption of a time when there shall be no time; nor of fulness of circumstances, because we can- not conceive a state of existence to be Without cirewnstan ces; we can often see, after a thing is past, if any circumstance, necessary to give the utmost activity and success 1o thet thing was wanting at the time that thing too ok plac If such a cir- cumstance was wanting, we ey be certam. that eth thing which took place, was not a thing of God’s ordainir ey whose work is always perfect, and his means perfect, means. "They tell us that Christ was the Son of God ; in that case, he would have known everything ; and he came upon earth to make known the wil! of God to man throughout the whole earth. If this had beer true, Christ would have known anu would have been furnished with all the possible means of doing it, and woeld have in- structed mankind, or at least his apostles, in the use of such of the means as they could use themselves to facilitate the accom. sae pear: ; of the mission ; consequently he would have instruc- ted them in the art of printing, for the press is the tongue of the world ; and without which, his or their preaching was less than a Siindls compared to ce r, Since, then, he did not do this, he had not the means necessary to ‘the mission ; and consequently had not the mission. They tell us in the book of Acts, chap. ii., a very stupid story of the apostles’ having the gift of tongues; and cloven tongues of jure descended and sat upon each of them. Perhaps eT Orie rire as! ent at beer te set ts ee be et ees test (eres settee reesighagesaiagizi TezEats tae >.) peso eS REPLY TO THE it was this story of cloven tongues that gave rise to the notion of shtting Jackdaws’ tongues to make them talk. Be that how- ever as it may, the gift of tongues, even 11 1t were true, would be but of little use without the art of printing. I can sit in my chamber, as I do while writing this, and by the aid of print- ing ¢, can send the thoughts I am writing through the greatest part of Europe, to the East Indies, and over all North America, in afew months. Jesus Christ and his apostles could not do this. They had not the means, and the want of means detects the pretended mission. There are three modes of communication. Speaking, writ- ing and printing. The first is exceedingly limited. A man’s voice can be heard buta few yards of distance ; and his person can be but in one place. Writing is much more extensive ; but the thing written can- not be multiplied but at great expense, and the multiplication will be slow and incorrect. Were there no other means of cir- culating what priests call the word of God (the Old and New Testament) than by writing copies, those copies could not be purchased at less than forty pounds sterling each; conse- quently but few people could parchase them, ee the writers could scarcely obtain a tivelihood by it. But t the art of print- ing changes all the cases, and opens a scene as vast as the world. It gives to man a sort of divine attribute. It gives to him mental omnipresence. He can be everywhere and at the same instant ; for wherever he is read he is mentally there. The case.a pplies 1 not only against the pretending mission of Christ. and his apostles, but against everything that priests call the word of God, and against all those who pretend to deli- ver it ; for had God ever delivered any verbal word, he would have taught the means of communicating it. The one without the other is inconsistent with the wisdom we conceive of the Creator. The third chapter of Genesis, verse 21, tells us that God made coats of skins and clothed Adam and Eve. It was infinitely more important that man should be taught the art of printing, than that Adam should b taught to make a pair of leather breeches, or his wife a petticoat. : There is another matter, equally striking and important, that connects itself with those observations against this } pretended word of God, this manuiactured book, called Revealed Rule . We know that whatever is of God’s doing is unalterable by manBISHOP OF LLANDAFF, 235 beyond the laws which the Creator has ordained. We cannot make a tree grow with the root in the air and the fruit in the ground ; we cannot make iron into gold nor gold into iron ; we cannot make rays of light shine forth rays of darkness, nor darkness shine forth light. If there were such a thing, as a word of God, it would possess the same properties which all his other works do. It would resist destructive alteration. But we see that the book which they call the word of God has not this property. That book says, Genesis, chap. i. verse 27, “So God created man in his own vmage ;” but the printer can make it say, So man created God in his own, wmage. The words are pas- Sive to every transposition of them, or can be annihilated and others put in their places. This is not the case with anything that is of God’s doing ; and, therefore, this book, called the word of God, tried by the same universal rule which every other of God’s works within our reach can be tried by, proves itself to be a forgery. The bishop says, that “ miracles are a proper proof of a di- vine mission.” Admitted. But we know that men, and espe- cially priests, can tell lies and call them miracles, Tt is there- fore necessary, that the thing called a miracle be proved to be true, and also to be miraculous; before it can be admitted as proof of the thing called revelation. The bishop must be a bad logician not to know that one doubt- ful thing cannot be admitted as proof that another doubtful thing is true. It would be like attempting to prove a liar not to be a liar by the evidence of another, who is as great a lar as himself. Though Jesus Christ, by being ignorant of the art of printing, shows he had not the means necessary to a divine mission, and consequently had no such mission ; 1t does not follow that if he had known that art, the divinity of what they call his mission would be proved thereby, any more than it proved the divinity of the man who invented printing. Something there- fore beyond printing, even if he had known it, was necessary as a miracle, to have proved that what he delivered was the word of God ; and this was that the book in which that word should be contained, which is now called the Old and New Testament, should possess the miraculous property, distinct from all human books, of resisting alteration. This would be not only a miracle, but an ever-existing and universal miracle ; whereas, those which they tell us of, even if they had been true, were momentary and PEC? ea etr es ere t ors Teri eC rere ss m Sigsanacrecs?++4 ste Fe hsdmbe ae - as eee rn “iicqorsie23 REPLY TO THE BISHOP OF LLANDAFF. local ; they would leave no trace behind, after the lapse of a few years, of having ever existed ; but this would prove, in all ages and in all places, the book to be divine and not human ; as effectually, and as conveniently, as aquafortis proves gold to be gold by not being capable of acting upon it ; and detects all other metalsand all counterfeit composition, by dissolving them. Since then the only miracle capable of every proof is, wanting, and which everything that is of a divine origin possesses ; all the tales of miracles with which the Old and New Testament are filled, are fit only for impostors to preach and fools to believe. TES Tere eee SETSLIILIGTTSE Fi Tt Tt ia nd 72324 a7 Ee 5 tat eh eee: a reece ee bb Soh Read a! Pree oY bo SEs aed a fe titie ty 7t. @sé5e43 _— Metisse es 7 Sg a Ate "LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE, LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE* were OF all the tyrannies that afflict mankind, tyranny in religion is the worst; every other species of tyranny is limited to the world we live in; but this attempts a stride beyond the grave, and seeks to pursue us into eternity. It is there and not here —it is to God and ‘not to man—it is to a-heavenly and not to an earthly tribunal that we are to account for our belief ; if then we believe falsely and dishonorably of the Creator, and that belief is forced upon us, as far as force can operate by human laws and human tribunals,—on whom is the criminality of that belief to fall? on those who impose it, or on those on whom it is imposed ? A bookseller of the name of Williams has been prosecuted in London on a charge of blasphemy, for publishing a book entitled the “Age of Reason.” Blasphemy is a word of vast sound, but equivocal and almost indefinite signification, unless we confine it to the simple idea of hurting or injuring the reputation of anyone, which wag its original meaning. As a word, it existed before Christianity existed, being a Greek word, or Greek anglified, as all the etymological dictionaries will show. But behold how various and contradictory has been the signi- fication and application of this equivocal word. Socrates, who lived more than four hundred years before the Christian era, was convicted of blasphemy, for preaching against the belief of a plurality of gods, and for preaching the belief of one god, and was condemned to suffer death by poison. Jesus Christ was convicted of blaspheiny under the Jewish law, and was cruci- fied. COalline Mahomet an impostor would be blasphemy in Turkey; and denying the infallibility of the Pope, and the 1 Church, would be blasphemy at Rome. What then is to be * Mr. Paine has evidently incorporated into this Letter a portion of his answer to Bishop Watson’s ‘‘ Apology for the Bible:” as in a chapter of that work, treating of the Book of Genesis, he expressly refers to his re- marks, in a preceding part of the same, on the two accounts of the creation contained in that book ; which is included in this letter. an Pete tT eke tke er ee re ttehs SRESSwa aE S HPS ETT HS Sect Poses tees egsusgeregss ssseine Prete rsete tried ie trite ete rey Seed CA RS ESS sLitageses SS PE eer eT hs oF ea ee Pee Let pt teak het 5 3 : : Soe eek ee ee Baa ass =o LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE, understood by this word blasphemy? We see that in the case of Socrates truth was condemned as blasphemy. Are we sure that truth is not blasphemy in the present day? Woe, how- ever, be to those who make it so, whoev er they may be. A book called the Bible has Hoan voted by men, and decreed by human laws to be the word of God; and the dicbel lief of this is called blasphemy. But if the Bil ae be not the word of God, it is the laws and the execution of them that is blasphemy, and not the disbelief. Strange stories are told of the Creator in that book. He1is represented as acting under the influence of every human passion, even of the most malignant kind. If these stories are false, we err in believing them to be true, and ought not to believe them. It is, ther efore, a duty which every man owes to himself, and rever entially to his Maker, to ascer- tain, by every possible inquiry, whether there be sufficient evidence to believe them or not. My own opinion is, decidedly, that the evidence does not warrant the belief, and that we sin in forcing that belief upon ourselves and upon others. In saying this, I have no other object in view than truth. But that may not be accused of resting upon bare assertion with respect to the equivocal state of the Bible, I will produce an example, ae I will not pick and cull the Bible for the purpose. I will go fairly to the ease: I will take the two first chapters of Genesis as they stand, and show from thence the truth of what I say, that is, that the evidence does not warrant the belief that the Bible is the word of God. CHAPTER I. 1. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 9” “And the rh was without form and ae and darkness ] was upon the face of the deep; and the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. iL DN yl 8 sae el Foal 3. And God said, Let there be light ; and there was light. 4. And God saw the light, that it was good ; and God dividec c ey Oe A ey the light rrom tne darkness 5, And God called the li aie day, and the darkness he called night: and the evening and the morning were the first day. 6. 7 And God said. Let there be a firmament 3 in the midst of the waters; and let it divide the waters from the waters. 7. And God made the f Reaiamnene and divided the watersLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. which were under the firmament, from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so. 5. And God called the firmament heaven: and the evening and the morning were the second day. 9. {| And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear ; and it was so. 10. And God called the dry land earth, and the gathering together of the waters called he seas, and God saw that it was good. Il. And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb, yielding seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so. 12. And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind: and God saw that it was good. 13. And the evening and the morning were the third day. 14. {| And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven, to divide the day from the night: and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years. 15. And let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven, to give light upon the earth: and it was so. 16. And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night ; he made the stars also. 17. And God set them in the firmament of the heaven, to give light upon the earth, 18. And to rule over the day and over the night, and to divide the light from the darkness; and God saw that it was good. - 19. And the evening and the morning were the fourth day. 20. {| And God said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven. 21. And God created great whales, and every living creature that moveth, which the waters brought forth abundantly after their kind, and every winged fowl after his kind: and God saw that 1t was good. 22. And God blessed them, saying, Be fruitful, and multiply, and fill the waters in the seas, and let fowl multiply in the earth. 23. And the evening and the morning were the fifth day. 24. §| And God said, Let the earth bring forth the living se.ésdishs ay SPSLAPSZRBZALES Pe eee Sate eis oe os be ks hehe, ra ESSvisere eratEESeaetritts east ests, oe ae +S 712° Preys eee! Tif aed reste tes tet a et 240 LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. creature after his kind, cattle and creeping thing and beast of the earth after his kind: and it was so. 25. And God made the beast of the earth after his kind, anc cattle after their kind, and every thing that creepeth upon the earth after his kind: and God saw that it was good. 26. | And God said, Let us make man in our image, after likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, Les over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. eS eo a 27. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him: male a aa nale created he them. 1 28. And Bod blessed th Me and God said unto them, Be fruat- e ip 7 7 ful, and multeply y, and reple nish the earth, and subdue ut; and have dominion over the a of the sea, and over the fowl of the aUr, ANA Over EVvEeETY th vung that moveth Upon the earth. 99. |@ And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb } ‘ a aR da thy 2] TQ INO -h » £. IO yf ail] t ue art} aN 1 TATU bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every thes oes : eat ee Ste Tas } , TO ; tree, in which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed: to you it sh all be for meat. 30. And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the a ur, and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for meat; and it was So. ; , 31. And God saw every thing that he had made, and behold it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day. CHAPTER ILI. 1. Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. 2. And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. 3. And God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it: be- cause that in it he had rested from all his work, which God created and made. 4, §] These are the generations of the heavens and of the earth, when they were created ; in the day that the Lord God raade the earth and the heavens.LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE, 241 5. And every plant of the field, before it was in the earth and every herb of the eld, before it grew ; for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the ear rth, and there was not a man to toll the ground. 6. But there went up a mist from the earth, and watered thé whole face of the ground. 7. And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the; a | 2 9TOU) 1d. and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life ; and man be- a living soul. 6. And the Lord God planted a garden eastward of Eden 1mMe CALI 3 a ee i EB ios Z Cal ces 1 > + and there he put the man whom he had formed. ee eae ce ] Be Je oy pe — 7 9. And out of the ground made the Lord God to STOW evel ba , ¢ ee ay ech ea A cacal ] : e . - tree that is pieasant to the sight, and good f ood: the tr life also in the midst of the garden. and the tree of kn... 1fé aiso In the midst of the garden, and the tree of know- 4 ce 7 . ledge of good and evil. a2 A pe i aes - T 10. And a river went out of Edex to water the garden : and fy ‘I +han 2 it ws ‘ parte d & ] be l t F re hes ] trom LUENCE. I was pat be GQ. and CG ame into LOUPT: 1B PALS 4 rte. Lt { 7 IOs | pen es pa S45 Bey Ll. The name of the first is Pison: that is 1t which compa al aay eee i i seth the whole land of Havilah, where ther is gold. 1, And the gold of that land is good ; the onyx-stone, 13. And the name of the second river is Gihon : it that compasseth the whole land a Ethiopia. 14. And the name of the third river is H ddekel: that is it 1 goeth toward the east of eas And the fourth riv LD UN rive} Blasted qeiae nied LUCTe 1S DGeLiluUM and the same is Thi aan} is Eu iphrat es. 15. And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the gar de nn of Eden, to dress it and to ie it. 16. And the lord God commanded the man, saying of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: 17. But of the tree of the knc wledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it ; for in the day that thou eatest t thereof, thou shalt surely die. 15. §] And the Lord God said, it is not po eee the man e alone: I will make him an help meet for him. U ) i And out of the eround the Lord God formed eve ry beast i sld, and every fowl of the air, and broaght them unto A lam, to see what he would call them ; and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. 20. And Adart gave names to all cattle, and to the fow! of the air ; and to every beast of the field; but for Adam there was not found an help meet for him. ca cr = ~~ © th ebit ett Ele C tere er eee eS ee ees BPS 5S hess Soe dbeheReas to TT tre trl i Toe Pte ead soPeres eter eteree ;ets Si 2ititaies " " eteint eed Teer ere rs. eed Pee EL EL ES SE SL ASE Pe pi be eee et Poet er 24.2 LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. 91. And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept ; and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof. 99. And the rib which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man. 23. And Adam said, this is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh ; she shall be called woman, because she was taken out of man. 94. Therefore shall 2 man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife ; and they shall be one flesh. 25. And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed. These two chapters are called the Mosaic account of the crea- tion; and we are told, nobody knows by whom, that Moses was instructed by God to write that account. It has happened that every nation of people has been world- makers; and each makes the world to begin his own way, as if they had all been brought up, as Hudibras says, to the trade. There are hundreds of different opinions and traditions how the world began.* My business, however, in this place, is only with those two chapters. * In this world-making trade, man, of course, has held a conspicuous place; and, for the gratification of the curious inquirer, the editor subjoins two speci- mens of the opinions of learned men, in regard to the manner of his formation, and of his subsequent fall. The first he extracts from the Talmud, a work containing the Jewish traditions, the rabbinical constitutions, and explica- tion of the law; and is of great authority among the Jews. It was com- posed by certain learned rabbins, comprehends twelve bulky folios, and forty years are said to have been consumed in its compilation. In fact, it is deemed to contain the whole body of divinity for the Jewish nation. Although the Scriptures tell us that the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, they do not explain the manner in which it was done, and these doctors supply the deficiency as follows :— ‘* Adam’s body was made of the earth of Babylon, his head of the land of Israel, his other members of other parts of the world. R. Meir thought he was compact of the earth, gathered out of the whole earth ; as it is written, thine eyes did see my substance. Now it is elsewhere written, the eyes of the Lord are over all the earth. R. Aha expressly marks the twelve hours in which his various parts were formed. His stature was from one end of the world to the other; and it was for his transgression that the Creator, laying his hand in anger on him, lessened him; for before, says R. Eleazer, with his hand he reached the firmament. R. Jehuda thinks his sin was heresy ; but R. Isaac thinks it was nourishing his foreskin.” _The Mahometan savans give the following account of the same transac- on :— ‘*When God wished to create man, he sent the angel Gabriel to take aLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. 248 I begin then by saying, that those two chapters, instead of containing, as has been believed, one continued account of the handful of each of the seven beds whic] composed the earth. But when the latter heard the order of God, she felt much alarmed, and requested the heavenly mesenger to represent to God, that as the creature he was about to form might chance to rebel one day against him, this would be the means of bringing upon herself the divine malediction. God, however, far from listening to this request, despatched two other angels, Michael and Azrael, to execute his will; but they, moved with compassion, were prevailed upon Vie L again to lay the complaints of the earth at the feet of her author. Then God confined the execution of his commands to the formidable Azrael alone, who, regardless of all the earth mic} say, violently tore from bosom ? +f 7 ® seven handfuls from her various st the work of cre ition was to be com Sat fou pleased with the deci carried them into Arabia, where va A 1 Y a yr As to Azrael, God was so well J NS ia 1 x a ad acted, that he cave him @ the office of separa soul fr e body, whence he is called the Ange} of Death * Meanwhile, the angels having kneaded this earth, God moulded it with his own hands, and left it sometime that it might get dry. The angels de- lighted to gaze uj but beautiful mass, with the exception of Eblis, or Lucif yn. evil, struck it upon the stomach, which civine a holl d ce this creature will be hollow, it will often need being ¢ will be, therefore, exposed to pregnant tempta- tion t] isked t] ngels how they would act if God wi hed to rend them 1 np ion which he w ab t i TH 1 1e OuLa O T ) did not openly ithin himself that 2 WOuld n their examp! Af } had be n properly prepared t with ( 1 him iy ) 1} nad Marvellous nt sult tavored being. He how commanded ls to f: lam. All of them obeyed, with the ex. Ebl nce immediately expelled from heaven. nis p oe The form 2 1 one of the ribs of the first man, is the same as that record ible, as is also the order given to the ather of man- ind, not to taste the fruit of a particular tree Eblis seized this opportunity of revenge. Having associated the peacock and the se ‘pent in the enter- pri the wily speeches at length persuaded Adam t L 0 become guilty of disobedience. But no sooner had they touched the forbidden fruit, than their garments dropped on the ground, and the sight of their nakedness covered them both with shame and with confusion. They made a covering for their body with fig-leaves; but they were both immediately condemned to labor, and to die, and hurled down from Paradise. Adam fell upon the mountain of Sarendip, in the Island of Ceylon, where a mountain is called by his name to the present day. Eve being sepa- rated from her spouse in her fall, alighted on the spot where China now stands, and Eblis fell not far from the same spot. As to the peacock andthe snake, the former dropped in Hindostan and the latter in Arabia, Adam soon feeling the enormity of his fault, implored the mercy of God, who, re- lenting, sent down his angels from heaven with a tabernacle, which they placed on the spot where Abraham, at a subsequent period, built the temple of Mecca. Gabriel instructed him in the rites and ceremonies performed about the sanctuary, in order that he might obtain the forgiveness of his offence, and afte-wards led him to the mountain of Ararat, where he met Eve, from whom he had been now separated above two hundred years.” “ce Shee sole he eos Ce re eee ets bee Resegeeetetsdmbe. nS be << "S areeerteet ttD44 LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. creation, written by Moses, contain two different and contra dictory stories of a creation, made by two different persons, and written in two different styles of expression. The evidence } rituis 1 Pte Ce TRG) ne apie, op PA is ig ee Ue te . that shows this is so clear, when attended to without prejudice, 7 t - n a te 7 + va A ne a tv e same evidence in any Arabic or : c ES pie ae Meet al cA tise nt Sear . shin ese account O£© a Cc vtlIOhn, We ShHOULA NOt nesitate in ro- YVOIHRESe accour : 3 ie 1Orcery. I proceed to distineu he first story be coins at the rst verse or the rst cha oter, - v < i coe Ey Gicceneed do ee ale ewan ~} ther sn tne two stories rrom eaca otpner. 4 le and ends at tne ena o vwne tnira Or tne secona CNAapPver : e oe 7 ee ee a ee GN ee eT, ey eee Ane ae ee J ror twne aadverolal Conyunct O11, iS TL U 5 dy With WnIicn tne secona hantar haoine faa tha roeadar will caa) 2RnOnnects itself to the cnapter. opecins (as tne ager Wlil see ), CONNECtS 1tselr to tne L. 7. \ / Tee ee EAA INES as ge atic ee a eS et MD aR eet a = | last verse ot the first cnapver, ana tnose tnree verses belong uO, and make the conciusion of the first sto Ve rey] iy ieee Ree RU Sue eth tT ang ee eg eat ; a The second story pegins at tne rourtn verse or the second aa “ ? : eo Pee a Paes we FEA cy oes ph ee ee J chapter, and ends with that chapter. inhose two stories have ‘ eee a ed ee a dae nae Ae ie Lh mao + xy7APpaAd f been confused into one, by cutting off the three last verses of 7 L the first story, and throwing them to the second chapter. I go now to show that those two stories have been written by two different persons. From the first verse of the first chapter to the end of the third verse or the second chapter, which makes the whole of Aa pas at ANT ha word QAO] + a anithauit anw oa 1 the first story, the word GOD is used without any epithet or litional word conjoined with it, as the reader will see: and ; a this style of expression is inv arlably used throughout the whole of this story, and is repeated no less than thirty-five times, viz., In the beginning Gop created the heavens and the earth, and he gs} of GoD moved on the face of the waters, and Gop said, let there be light, and Gop saw the light,” &c., &e, But immediately from the beginning of the fourth verse of the second chapter, where the second story begins, the style of 4 uy u 5 1 PARCTNN 7 OWA h mn hea ede ae Aw tee a te expression 1S always the Lord God, and this style of expression « ‘ a L invariably used to Qa e end of the chapter, and is repeated nes; in the one it is always Gop, and never the Lord God, in the other it is always the Lord God, and never Gop. The first story contains thirty-four verses, and repeats the single word Gop thirty-five times. The second story contains twenty-two verses and repeats the compound word Lord-God eleven times; this difference of style, so often repeated, and so uniformly continued, shows that those two chapters, containing two different stories, are written by different persons. It is the same in all different editions of the Bible, in all the languages I have seen, nt bn OD a OD < r qd pond ; =) ae ay od = onLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. 245 Having thus shown, from the difference of style, that those two chapters divided, as they properly divide themselves. at the end of the third verse of the second chapter, are the work of two different persons, I come to show, from the contradictory matters they contain, that they cannot be the work of one person, and are two different stories. It is impossible, unless the writer was a lunatic, without memory, that one and the same person could say, as is said in the 27th and 28th verses of the first chapter—“So God created man im his own image, in the mage of God created he him- male and female created he them, and God blessed them, and UfbCll 5 7 Z s/t the God SAG UNTO them, be JTuU vtful and nvulirvply, a nd replen j e “ L Mire / 4 s eart by and SUDA UE vt, and have dom mnion over the fish of th EC SEM € f S GC ft uitG SOW, and over the JO WwW LS of t/ve ar, a nd CVETY la V2 ¥ EBA oe nt A ate ng thing that moveth Ag Edy fy sf the earth”? + 5 T eav 7 ea h] + 4] on the face of the earth.” Itis, I say, impossible that the same a ie U - } Se eS Z ey Cy 7 > ° person who said this, could afterwards Say, aS iS said in the second chapter, ver. 5, and there was not a man to tall the ground; and then proceed in the 7th verse to give another account of the making a man for the first time, and afterwards of the making a woman out of his rib. Again, one and the same person could not write, as is written in the 29th verse of the first chapter: “Behold I (God) have given you every herb bearing seed, which is on the face of the earth ; and every tree, in which is the fruit of a tree bearing seed, to you it shall be for meat,” and afterwards Say, as 1s said in the second chapter, that the Lord God planted a tree in the midst of a garden, and forbad man to eat thereof. Again, one and the same person could not say, Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them, and on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made: and shortly C, after set the Creator to work again, to plant a garden, to make a a man and awoman, d&c., 4s is done in the second chapter. Here are evidently two different stories contradicting each other.—According to the first, the two sexes, the male and the female, were made at the same time. According to the second, they were made at different times, the man first, the woman atterwards.—According to the first story they were to have dominion over all the earth. According to the second, their dominion was limited to a garden. How large a garden it could be that one man and one woman could dress and keep in order, I leave to the prosecutor, the judge, the jury, and Mr. Erskine to determine, iL USro Erase rel Ser eer eae ee ee td ee ee errr errs *Heerge iesetsrsess Petes $e ce oerr246 LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. The story of the talking serpent, and its tete-d-tete with Five; the doleful adventure called the Fall of Man ,; and how he was turned out of his fine garden, and how the garden was after- wards locked up and guarded by a flaming sword (if any one can tell what a flaming sword is), belonging altogether to the second story. They have no connection with the first story. ‘ . ae Seis aed Che According to the first there was no garden of Eden; no forbid- = . e L den tree: the scene was the whole earth, and the fruit of all the trees was allowed to be eaten. In giving this example of the strange state of the Bible, it cannot be said IT have gone out of my way to seek it, for I have taken the beginning of the book; nor can it be said I have made more of it, than itmakestiself. That there are two stories is as visible to the eye, when attended to, as that there are two chap- ters, and that they have been written by different persons, nobody knows by whom. [Ifthis then is the strange condition the begin- ning of the Bible is in, it leads to a just suspicion, that the other parts are no better, and consequently it becomes every man’s duty to examine the case. I have done it for myself, and Nena Rey 1 ES am satisfied that the Bi et Perhaps I shall be told in the cant-language of the day, as I eed hey aia Sa hariingre ie 18 JAOULOUS. ot have often been told by the Bishop of Llandaff and others, of the great and laudable pains that many pious and learned men have taken to explain the obscure and reconcile the contradictory, or as they say, the seemingly contradictory passages of the Bible. It is because the Bible needs such an undertaking, that is one of the first causes to suspect it is NoT the word of God; this single reflection, when carried home to the mind, is in itself a volume. What! does not the Creator of the Universe, the Fountain of all Wisdom, the Origin of all Science, the Author of all Knowledge, the God of Order, and of Harmony, know how to write? When we contemplate the vast economy of the crea- tion; when we behold the unerring regularity of the visible solar system, the perfection with which all its several parts re- volve, and by corresponding assemblage, form a whole ;—when we launch our eye into the boundless ocean of space, and see ourselves surrounded by innumerable worlds, not one of which varies from its appointed place—when we trace the power of the Creator, from a mite to an elephant—from an atom to an universe—can we suppose that the mind that could conceive such a design, and the power that executed it with incomparableLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. DQ47 perfection, cannot write without inconsistency ; or, that a book so written, can be the work of such a power ? The writings of Thomas eee even of Thomas Paine, need no commentator to explain, expound, arrange, and re-arrange their several parts, to render fem intelligible—he « can relate a fact, or write an essay, without forgetting in one page what he has written in an- other—certainly, then, did the God of all perfection condescend to write or dictate a book, that book would be as Bo rfect as himself is perfect ; the Bible is not so, and it is confessedly not so, by the attempts to amend it Perhaps I shall be told, that though I have produced one instance, I cannot produce another of equal force. One is suf- ficient to call in question the genuineness of authenticity of any book that pretends to be the word of God; for such a book would, as before said, be as perfect as its author is perfect. I will, however, advance only four ch ope further into the the book of Genesis, and produce another example that is suf- ficient to invalidate the story to which it ieee We have all heard of Noah’s Flood ; and it is impossible to think of the whole human race, men, women, children, and infants (except one family,) deliberately drowning, wit hout feel- ing a painful sensation ; that heart must be a he art of flint that can contemplate such a scene with tranquillit There is no- thing in the ancient mythology, nor in the ae sion of any people we know of upon the globe, that records a sentence of their God, or of their Gods, so tremendously severe and merciless. If tl story be not true, we blasphemously dishonor God by believing 1e f so, in forcing, by laws and penalties, that be- ) e i it, and still more lief upon others. I go now to show, from the face of the story, that it carries the evidence of not being true. I know not if the judge, the jury, and Mr. Erskine, who tried and convicted Williams, ever cae the Bible, or know anything of its contents, and, therefore, I will state the case precisely. There was no such people as Jews or Israelites, in the time that Noah is said to have lived, and consequently there was no such law as that which is called the Jewish or Mosaic Law. It is according to the Bible, more than six hundred years from the time the flood is said to have happened, to the time of Moses, and consequently the time the flood is said to have happened, was more than six hundred years prior to the law, oar ed the law of Moses, even admitting Moses to have been the giver of that law, of which there is great cause to doubt. det et Oe RS ee os ee Te ee ee tts ere PT Trtrttarit tr Tt te pee ee - Leek a Peek ea pee ced eleshe ; i 4 on ' es Sk oe 4 = 4 Vee wz ig 4 248 LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. We have here two different epochs, or points of time; that of the flood, and that of the law of Moses ; the foes more than six hundred j rears prior to the latter. But the maker of the story of the fieoel whoever he was, has betrayed himself by plundering, for he has reversed the order of the times. ' He has told the story, as if the law of Moses was prior to the flood ; s he has made God to say to Noah, Genesis, chap. vu. ver. 2, “Of every clean beast, thou shalt take unto thee by sevens, male and his female, and of beasts that are not clean by two, the male and his female.” ‘This is the Mosaic law, and could only be said after that law was given, not before. There was no such things as beasts clean and unclean in the time of Noah __It is nowhere said they were created so.—IlThey were only declared to be SO, as meats, by the Mosaic law, and t Jews only, and there was no such people as Jews in the time of Noah. ‘This is the blundering condition in which thi story stands. When we reflect on a sentence so tremendously severe, as that of consigning the w hole human race, eight persons excepted, to deliberate drowning ; a sentence, which represents the Crea- tor i a more merciless character than any of those whom we call Pagans, ever represented the Creator to be, under the figure of any of their deities, we ought at least to suspend our belief of it, on a comparison of the beneficent character of the Crea- tor, with the tremendous s¢ vay of the sentence ; ; but when we see the story told with such an evident contradiction of cir- cumstances, we ought to oe it down for nothing better than a fable, told by noboc as knows w hom, @ und nobody ee when, It is a relief to the ete aud sensible soul of man to find the story uni yunded. It frees us from two painful sensations at once; that of having hard thoughts of the Creator, on account of the severity of the sentence ; ; and that of sy mpathis- ing in the horrid tragedy of a drowning world. He who cannot feel the force of what I mean, is not, in my estimation of char- acter, worthy the name of a human being. I have just said there is great cause to doubt, if the law, called the law of Moses, was given by Moses ; the books called the books of Moses. which contained, among other things, what is called the Mosaic law, are put in front of the Bible, in the manner of a constitution, with a history annexed to it. Had these books been written by Moses, they would undoubtedly have been the oldest books in the Bible. and entitled to be placed first, and theLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. 249 law and the history they contain would be frequently referred to in the ae ae e - tnapv the israelites Might Cut tne 1\roats OL all their enemies, and y hane all their kings, as told in Joshua, chap. x., he says, “‘ There is also another prool of the reality of this miracle, which 1s, the i t : neal thatthe author of the book of Joshua makes to the book flasher, ‘Zs not this written in the bo Vy of Jasher ?? Henc e,” ‘ fe - . ° e 7 cma oT 1 Frcs ee ] continues Levi, °° 1t 18S Manirest that 1e DOOK commonty called the book of Jasher, existed. and was well known at the time the book of Joshua was written ; and pray, Sir,” eee Levi, “what book do you think this was? why, no other then the law of Moses /” levi. like the Bishop of Llandaff and many other I oess-W0} k commentators. either forgets or does not know what there is in one part of the Bible when he is giving his opinion | did not however, expect to find so much lonorance in a aoe with respect tothe history of his nation, though I might not be surprised at it in a bishop. If Levi will look into the account chap. 2nd book of Sam. of the Amalekite slay- 1, and bringing Ene crown one bracelets to David, he will find the folk ital, ver. 15, 17.183 “And David called one of the young men, and sai iy co near and fall upon him (the ee isl tel ee he smote him that he died: and David lamented with this lamentation over Saul and over Jonathan 1is son; also he bade them teach the children the use of the bow ;—behold it is written in the book of Jasher.” If the bookLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE, 251 of Jasher were what Levi calls it, the law of Moses, written by Moses, it is not possible that any as that David said or did could be written in that law, since Moses died more than five hundred years before David was i honhy and, on the other hand, admitting the book of Jasher to be thd law called the law of Moses ; that law must have been written more than five hundred years after Moses was dead, or it could not relate any- thing said or done by David. Levi may take which of these cases he pleases, for both are : against him. [ am not going in the course of es letter to write a commen- tary on the Bible. The two instances I have produced, and which are ni from the begin ining of the Bible, show the necessity of examining it. It ig a bank that has been read more, and examined less, than any book that ever existed. Had it come to us an Arabic or Chine se b ook, and said to have been a sacred book by the peop le from whom it came, no a ology would have been made for th 1e confused and < didopdenty. a a 1b isin The tales it relates of the Creator would have been cen- cured, and our pity excited for those who believed them, We sho ald have vindicated the goodness of God against such a bans and preached up the disbelief of it out of reverence to him. Why then do we not act as honorably by the Creator in the one case as we do in the other. As a Chinese book we would have examined it ;—~ought we not then to examine it as a Jewish book? The Chinese are a people who have all the appearance of far greater oe juity than the Jews | ; and in point ot permanency — ee 4 S no comparison. aa Are AlSO a peoy dle faa of mild manners and good morals, except where they have been corrupted by eee. un commerce, Vet we t ee the word of a > 4 ° } \ <7 qd annie aq bt a Jev VS f Palestine xT restless, bloody-minded peopie, as he ews ale€stine w ere, when we would reject the same authority fro We ought to see it is habit and prejudice tl 32] mH a. people from examining the Bible. Those of A m a better r people at ee prevente l church of Eng- land called it h oly, because the Jews called it io and because custom and certain acts of parliament call it so, and they read it from custom. Dissenters read it for the purpose of Cee ae controversy, and are very fertile in discoveries and inventioz But none of them read it for the pure purpose of anifeimniieiOn, and of rendering justice to the Creator, by examining if the evidence it contains warrants the belief of its being what it is called. Instead of doing this, they take it ‘blind ded, and will have it to be the word of God whether it be soor not For my oe Sell det tot Sol be oo? be as EST beat sets Cts See oe ee ee Se haere gorges eLLitishetir ete t tLe(pte ged Petes SSS oe oid Pees S Pree Stee é sera Ese 252 LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE, own part, my belief in the perfection of the Deity will not per- mit me to believe, thata book so manifestly obscure, disorderly, and contradictory, can be his work. I can write a better book myself. ‘This disbelief in me proceeds from my belief in the Creator. I cannot pin my faith upon the say so of Hilkiah, the priest, who said he found it, or any part of it, nor upon Shap~- han the scribe, nor upon any priests, nor any scribe or man of the law, of the present day. As to acts of parliament, there are some which say there are witches and wizards; and the persons who made those acts (it was inthe time of James the First), made also some acts which call the Bible Holy Scriptures, or Word of God. But act of parliament decide nothing with respect to God ; and as these acts of parliament making were wrong with respect to witches and wizards, they may also be wrong with respect to the book in question.* It is, therefore, necessary that the book be exam- * Tt is afflicting to humanity to reflect that, after the blood shed to estab- lish the divinity of the Jewish scriptures, it should have become necessary to grant a new dispe nsation, which, tn ugh unbelief and conflicting opin- ions respecting its true construction, has cost as great or greater sacriiices than the former. Catholics, when they had the ascendency, burnt Protes- tants, who, in turn, led Catholics to the stake, and both united in extermi- nating Dissenters. The Dissenters, when they had the power, pursued the c yf Calvin, in the burning of Dr. Servetus, it same course. ‘The diabolical act of is an awful witness of this fact. Servetus suffered two hours in a slow fire before life was extinct. The Dissenters, who escaped from England, had scarcely seated themselves in the wilds of America, before they began to ex- terminate from the territory they had seized upon, all those who did not profess what they called the orothodox faith. Priests, Quakers, and Adam- ites, were prohibited from entering the territory, on pain of death. By priests, they meant clergymen of the Homan Catholic, if not also of the Protestant or Episcopal persuasion. ‘Their own priests they denominated ministers. ‘These puritans also, particularly in the province of Massachu- setts-Bay, put many persons to death on the charge of witchcraft. 1ere is no account, however, of of their having burned any alive, as was done in Scot- land, about the same period in which the executions took place in Massa- chusetts-Bay. In England, Sir Matthew Hale, a judge eminent for extra- ordinary piety, condemned two women to death on the same charge. I doubt, however, if there be any acts of the parliament now in force for inflicting pains and penalties for denying the scriptures to be the word of God, as our upright judges seem to rely at this time wholly upon what they call the common law, to justify the horrid persecutions which are now car- ried on in England, to the disgrace of a country that boasts so much of its tolerant spirit. As the common law is derived from the customs of our ancestors, when in a rude and barbarous condition, i$ is not surprising that many of its injunce- tions should be opposed to the ideas, which a society in a civilized and re- fined state, should deem compatible with justice and right. Accordingly we find that government has from time to time annulled some of its most prominent absurdities ; snch as the trials by ordeal, the wager of battle inLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE 253 ined ; it is our duty to examine it ; and to suppress the right of examination is sinful in any government, or in any judge or jury. The Bible makes God to say to Moses, Deut. chap. vii. case of appeal for murder, under a belief that a supernatural power would interfere to save the innocent and destroy the guilty in such a combat, &c. Yet much remains nearly as ridiculous, that requires a further and more liberal use of the pruning knife. “Tn the days of the Stuarts [| A.D. 1670, 22nd year of CharlesII. See ‘‘The Republicans,” vol. 5, p. 22] William Penn was indicted at Common Law for a riot and breach of the peace on having delivered his sentiments to a con- gregation of people in Grace-church-street : he told the judge and the jury that Common Law was an abuse, and no law at all; and in spite of the threats, the fines and imprisonments inflicted on his jury, they acquitted him on this plea. William Penn found an honest jury.” The introduction, however, of Christianity, as composing a part of this Common Law (bad as much of it is), 1s proved to be a fraud or misconcep- tion of the old Norman French; as I shall show by an extract of a letter from Thomas Jefferson to Major Cartwright, bearing date 5th June, 1824, For a more full development of this subject, see ‘‘Sampson’s Anniversary Discourse, before the Historical Society of New York.”—Enrror. Extract from Jefferson’s Letter. *¢T am glad to find in your book [“ The English ion, produced and ry usurpation of 7; i Constitut illustrated ”] a formal contradiction, at length, of the judi legislative power ; for such the judges have usurped in thei sions, that Christianity is a part of the common law. The proof of the con- trary, which you have adduced, is uncontrovertible : to wit, that the com- mon law existed while the Anglo-Saxons were yet Pagans; at a time when they had never yet heard the name of Christ pronounced, or knew that such a character had ever existed. Butit may amuse you to show when, and by what means, they stolethislawinuponus. In acase of Quare Impedit, inthe ‘6 Vear Book,” 34 Henry VI. fo. 28 [Anno 1458], a question was made how far the ecclesiastical law was to be respected in a common law court. And repeated deci- Prisot, Chief Justice, gave his opinion in * saint eglise ont en ancien scripture, covient a nous a donner credence: cal ceo Commen Ley sur quels touts manners leis sontfoddes. Et auxy, Sir, nous sumus obliges de conustre lour ley de saint eglise : et semblablement ils sont obliges de conustre nostre ley.—Ht, Sir, si poit apperer or a nous que Veves- que adfait come un ordinary fera en tiel cas, adong nous devons ceo adjuger bon, ou auterment nemy,’” &c. [‘‘Tosuch laws as they of holy church have in ancient writing, it behoves us give credence: for it is that common law upon which all kinds of law are founded ; and therefore, Sir, are we bound to know their law of holy church, and in like manner are they obliged to know our laws. And, Sir, if it should appear now tous, that the bishop had done what an ordinary ought to do in like case, then we should adjudge it good, and not otherwise.”|—The canons of the church anciently were incor- porated with the laws of the land, and of the same authority. See Dr. Tenry’s Hist. G. Britain.—EbITor. cg C. Fitzh. abr. qu. imp. 89. Bro, abr. qu. imp. 12, Finch in his 1st Book, c. 3, is the first afterwards who quotes the case, and mis-states it thus: ‘To such laws of the church as have warrant in Holy Scripture, our low giveth credence,’ and cites Prisot ; mistranslating ‘ancient Scripture’ into ‘holy Scripture ;? whereas Prisot palpably says, ‘to such Jaws as those of holy church have in ancient writing, it is proper for us to give credence ;’ to wit to their/ancient written laws. This was in 1613, a cent-ry and a half <6 e iN fore r eT Er. ee cere ar) S70; TTotteiesasers att +s* eet art) te She bt ko aha eeePeder gt es Pt ee os 254 LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. ver. ‘© And when the Lord thy God shall deliver them before i thou shalt smite them and utterly destroy them, thou shalt make no covenant with them, nor show mercy unto them? Not all the priests, nor scribes, nor tribunals in the world, nor all the en ‘yy of man, shall make me believe that God ever save such a Robe sprerrean precept as that of showing no mercy ; and consequently it 1s impossible that I, or any person who believes as reverentially of the Creator as I do, can believe such a book to be the word of God. There have been, and still are, those, who, whilst they profess to believe the Bible to be the work of Gate affect to turn it into ridicule. Taking their profession and conduct together, they oo ; because they act as if God himself was not he case is exceedingly different with res spect 00k is written to show from the ; there is abundant matter to suspect it is not od, and that we have been imposed upon, first by ae That } tla > seli 1, ( toe W rord of { Jews, and afterwards by priests and commentators. Not one of the SE hay Ve avttemMm! ted He) wri a answers to the fter rate, in 1658, erects this false translation nto ant copying the words of Finch, but citing Prisot. DY ‘itle 1675, copies tho ame misti B. Finch an fal resses ~ ¢ Ja 'D . J : . entris 293. Keb. 607, but Quo0v' I autno ity. Dy U he se ech¢ yInNYS : nd re-echoings 1 ; ; ep 6 ;1n the case of : : ae lished in 1728, 34, the court would not suffer it to be de- bate ‘hristianity was punishable in the temporal cours theretore, 4 9, ventures still to vary the phra i ences by the vc] 3 29, repeats the y is part of the > law 1 tice Ven- Lord Mansfield, v a little qualification, in Evans’ case in 1767, sa: the essential principles of revealed religion are part of the common law ’—thus ingulfing Bib le, , Testament, and all into n law, without citing any authority. Andthus we find this chain of authorities hanging, link by link, one upon another, and all ultimat ely on one and the satis hook, and that a mistranslation of the words, ‘ ancient scripture,’ used by Prisot ch quotes Prisot ; Wingate does the same; Sheppard quotes Pp risot, "Fine and Wingate. Hale cites nobody. The court, on Woolston’s case, cites Hale ; A cites Woolston’s case ; Black- stone quotes Woolston’s case and Hale; and Lord Mansfield, like Hale, ventures it on his own authority. Here I might defy the best read lawyer to produce another scrip of authority for this judiciary forgery ; and I might go on farther to show how some of the an Saxon . priests interpol ated into the text of Alfred’s laws the 20th, 2!st, 22d, and 23d chapters of Exodus, and the 15th of the Acts of the Apostles, from the 23rd to the 29th verses : but this would lead my pen and your patience too far.. What a conspiracy this, between church and state !’” ae “ = -_ = : CORO LAW 5 ee ey words of Hale tris and Strange ? 1 j the commo j—tsLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE, 255 o “Age of Reason,” have taken the ground upon which only an answer could be written. The case in question is not upon any point of doctrine, but altogether upon a matter of fact. Is the book called the Bible the word of God, or is it not? -If it can be proved to be so, it ought to be believed as as such; if not, it ought not be believed assuch. This is the true state of the case. The “ Age of Reason” produces evidence to show, and I have in this letter produced additional evidence that it is not the word of God. Those who take the contrary side should prove that itis. But this they have not done, nor attempted to do, and consequently they have done nothing to the purpose. The prosecutors of Williams have shrunk from the point, as the answerers have done. They have availed themselves of pre- judice instead of proof. If a writing was produced in a court of judicature, said to be the writing of a certain person, and upon the reality or non-reality of which, some matter at issue depended, the point to be proved would be, that such writing was the writing of such person. Or if the issue depende ray oO . said to have certain words, which some certain person was t no es he 1 7 \y Pe oxoAnM LA ha hat 7 . spoxen, tne point to be proved W ould be, that such words were UViic ALL spoken by such person ; and Mr. Erskine would contend the case upon this ground. > a eh 6k 2 Soho Peete heletstset ites iaree, 3 a oe | Sey PE aa eam a Pi rn “aye 260 LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. anything the author of the «“ Ace of Reason” has written; and the manner in which the trial has been conducted shows that the prosecutor dares not come to the point, nor meet the de- fence of the defendant. But all other cases apart, on what ground of right, otherwise than on the right assumed by an inquisition, do such prosecutions stand? Religion is a private affair between every man and his Maker, and no tribunal or third party has a right to interfere between them. It is not properly a thing of this world; it is only practised in this world ; but its object is in a future world: and it is no other- wise an object of just laws, than for the purpose of protecting the equal rights of all, however various their beliefs may be. If one man choose to believe the book called the Bible to be the word of God, and another, from the convinced idea of the purity and perfection of God, compared with the contradictions the book contains—from the lasciviousness of some of its stories, like that of Lot getting drunk and debauching his two daughters, which is not spoken of as a crime, and for which the most absurd apologies are made—from the immorality of some of its precepts, like that of showing no mercy—and from the total want of evidence on the case, thinks he ought not to believe it to be the word of God, each of them has an equal richt ; and if the one has the right to give his reasons for be- lieving it to be so, the other has an equal right to give his reasons for believing the contrary. Anything that goes beyond this rule is an inquisition. Mr. Erskine talks of his moral education; Mr. Erskine is very little acquainted with theo- logical subjects, if he does not know there is such a thing as a sincere and religious belief that the Bible is not the word of God. This is my belief; it is the belief of thousands far more learned than Mr. Erskine; and it is a belie that is every day increasing. It is not infidelity, as Mr. Erskine profanely and abusively calls it; it is the direct reverse of infidelity. Itisa pure religious belief, founded on the idea of the perfection of the Creator. If the Bible bethe word of God, it needs not the wretched aid of prosecutions to support it; and you might with as much propriety, make a law to protect the sunshine, as to protect the Bible, if the Bible, lke the sun, be the work of God. We see that God takes good care of the Creation he has made. He suffers no part of it to be extinguished: and he will take the same care of his word, if he ever gave one. But men ought to be reverentially careful and suspicious how they ascribeLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE. 261 om this confused condition r, and against which there is » and every cause to Suspect imposition. Leave then the Bible to itself God will take care of it if he has anything to do with it, as he takes care of the sun and the moon, which need not your laws for their better protection. As the two instances I have produced, in the beginning of this letter, from the book of Genesis, the one respecting the account called the Mosaic account of the Creation, the other of the Flood, sufficiently show the necessity of examining the Bible, in order to ascertain what degree of evidence there is for re ceiving or rejecting it as a sacred book ; I shall not add more upon that subject; but in order to show Mr. Erskine that there are religious establishments for public worship which make no profession of faith of the books called holy scriptures, nor admit of priests, I will conclude with an account of a society lately begun in Paris, and now very rapidly extending itself, The society takes the name of Theophilantropes, which would be rendered in English by the word Theophilanthropists, com- pounded of three Greek words, signifying God, Love, and Man. The explanation given to this word is, Lovers of God and Man, or Adorers of God and Friends of Man, adorateurs de Dieu et amis des hommes. The society proposes to publish each year a volume, the first volume is just published, entitled RELIGIOUS YEAR OF THE THEOPHILANTHROPISTS; OR, ADORERS OF GOD, AND FRIENDS OF MAN, eing a collection of the discourses, lectures, hymns and canticles, for all the religious and moral festivals of the Theo philanthropists during the course of the year, vhether in thei public temples or in their private families, published by the author of the Manual of the Theophilantl ropists, The volume of this year, which is the first, contains 214 pages duodecimo. he following is the table of contents:— 1. Precise history of the Theophilanthropists, 2. Exercises common to all the festivals, 3. Hymn, No. I. God of whom the universe speaks, PED eT ET eres Scere 21 te we eL Fre icebcaa rt Ter eee Teer ET TT SRESSTA HT SoA GS eye SSeS sects rvitieiasesaerresTite tr et terra ee eetgcat Sh beee ts rte so3¢ 262 4, 5. 6. ty (. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 1d. 16. 17. 18. Lo: 9 bed 21. 22. 24. 20. 26. 27. LETTER TO MR. ERSKINE, Discourse upon the existence of God. Ode II. The heavens instruct the earth. Precepts of wisdom, extracted from the book of the Adorateurs. Canticle, No. ITI. God Creator, soul of nature. Extracts from divers moralists, upon the nature of God, and upon the physical proofs of his existence. Canticle, No. IV. Let us bless at our waking the God who gives us light. Moral thoughts extracted from the Bible. Hymn, No. V. Father of the universe. Contemplation of nature on the first days of the spring. Ode, No. VI. Lord in thy glory adorable. Extracts from the moral thoughts of Confucius. Canticle in praise of actions, and thanks for the works of the creation. Continuation from the moral thoughts of Confucius. Hymn, No. VII. All the universe is full of thy magni- ficence. Extracts from an ancient sage of India upon the duties of families. Upon the spring. Moral thoughts of divers Chinese authors. s h Canticle, No. VIII. Everything celebrates the glory of the eternal. Continuation of the moral thoughts of Chinese authors. Invocation for the country. Extracts from the moral thoughts of Theognis. Invocation, Creator of man. Ode, No. IX. Upon death. Extracts from the book of the Moral Universal, upon happiness. Ode, No. X. Supreme Author of Nature. INTRODUCTION ; ENTITLED PRECISE HISTORY OF THE THEOPHILANTHROPISTS. «‘Powarps the month of Vendimiaire, of the year 5 (Sept. 179¢), there appeared at Paris, a small work, entitled, ManualLETTER TO MY. ERSKINE. 263 of the Theoanthropophiles, since called, for the sake of easier pronunciation, Theophilanthropes (Theophilanthropists), pub- lished by C : ‘The worship set forth in this Manual, of which the origin is from the beginning of the world, was then professed by some families in the silence of domestic life. But no sooner was the Manual published, than some persons, respectable for their know- ledge and their manners, saw, in the formation of a society open to the public, an casy method of spreading moral religion, and of leading by degrees great numbers to the knowledge thereof, who appear to have forgotten it. This consideration ought of itself not to leave indifferent those persons who know that morality and religion, which is the most solid Support thereof, are necessary to the maintenance of society, as well as to the happiness of the individual. ‘These considerations determined the families of the Theophilanthropists to unite publicly for the exercise of their worship. “The first society of this kind opened in the month of Nivose, year 5 (Jan. 1797), in the street Dennis, No. 34, corner of Lom- bard-street. The care of conducting this society was under- taken by five fathers of families. They adopted the Manual of the Theophilanthropists. They agreed to hold their days of public worship on the days corresponding to Sundays, but with- out making this a hindrance to other societies to choose such other day as they thought more convenient. Soon after this, more societies were opened, of which some cclebrate on the decadi (tenth day), and others on the Sunday: it was also re solved that the committee should meet one hour each week for the purpose of preparing or examining the discourses and lecsures proposed for the next general assembly. ‘hat the gen- eral assemblies should be called Fetes (festivals) religious and moral. ‘hat those festivals should be conducted in principal and form, in a manner, as not to be considercd as the festivals of an exclusive worship ; and that in recalling those who might not be attached to any particular worship, those festivals might also be attended as moral exercises by disciples of every sect, and consequently avoid, by scrupulous care, everything that might make the soviety appear under the name of a sect. The society adopts neither rights nor priesthood, «nd it wilt never lose sight of the resolution not to advance ar thing as a society, inconvenient to any scct or sects, in any U. 2 or coun- try, and under any government, oe Ee et ee he eee tebe rter ts aT re! ar settee? *gceree Pees ee rhea eecetetese piers: Pera) - Bi Ph | . 7 - fa a PS PST ES OPER PEC ESS Peel ys eee eee Fee : STEIVHS S$ Steret Sls SS 4 St SsS2STSEes ae teat sts 264 LETTER TO MR, ERSINE. “Tt will be seen, that it is so much the more easy for the society to keep within this circle, because, that the dogmes vf the Theophilanthropists are those upon which all the sects _..ve agreed, that their moral is that upon which there has never been the least dissent ; and that the name they have taken, expresses the double end of all the sects, that of leading to the adoration of God and love of man. “The Theophilanthropists do not call themselves the disci- ples of such or such a man. They avail themselves of the wise precepts that have been transmitted by writers of ail countries and in allages. The reader will find in the discourses, lectures, hymns, and canticles, which the ‘Lheophilanthropists havo adopted for their religious and moral festivals, and which they present under the title of Annee Religicuse, extracts from moralists, ancient and modern, divested of maxims too severe, or too loosely conceived, or contrary to picty, whether towards Sod or towards man.” Next follow the dogmas of the Theophilanthropists, or things they profess to believe. These are but two, and are thus ex- pressed, les Théophilanthropes crovent Vexistence de Dieu, et a Pimmortalité de Came. The Theophilanthropists believe in the existence of God, and the immortality of the soui The Manual of the Theophilanthropists, a small volume of sixty pages, duodecimo, is published separately, as is also their catechism, which is of the same size. The principles of the Theophilanthropists are the same as those published in the first part of the “Age of Reason” in 1793, and in the second part, in 1795. ‘The Theophilanthropists, as a society, are silent upon all the things they do not profess to believe, as the sacredness of the books called the Bible, &c., &c. They profess the im- mortality of the soul, but they are silent on the immortality of the body, or that which the church calls the resurrection. The author of the “Age of Reason” gives reasons for everything he disbelieves, as well as for those he believes ; and where this cannot be done with safety, the government is a despotism, and the church an inquisition. It is more than three years since the first part of the “Age of Reason” was published, and more than a year and a half since the publication of the second part: the bishop of Llandaff undertook to write an answer to the second part ; and it was not until after it was known that the author of the “Age of Reason” would reply to the bishop, that the prosecution against the bookLETTER TO MR. ERSKINE, 265 was set on foot, and which is said to be carried on by some clergy of the English church, If the bishop is one of them, and the object be to prevent an expos sure of the numerous and ross errors he has committed in his work (and which he wrote when report said that Thomas Paine was dead), it is a confession that he feels the weakness of his cause, and finds himself unable to maintain it. In this case he has given me a triumph I did not seek, and Mr, Erskine, the herald of the prosecution, has proclaimed it, itt eek ek Ste er eS Te tists bP as tet Cot hee * a 4 * * ' ew . ra Siscgasereltge ete ete ssesPires stst eric) bs 4 | eee se —— AN ESSAY ON DREAMS, AN ESSAY ON DREAMS. As a great deal is said in the New Testament about dreams, it is first necessary to explain the nature of a dream, and to show by what operation of the mind a dream is produced during sleep. When this is understood we shall be better enabled to judge whether any reliance can be placed upon them. and, conse- quently, whether the several matters in the New Testament re- lated of dreams deserve the credit which the writers of that book and priests and commentators ascribe to them. In order to understand the nature of dreams, or of that which passes in ideal vision during a state of sleep, it is first necessary to understand/the composition and decomposition of the human mind, The three great faculties of the mind are IMAGINATION, JUDG- MENT and Memory. Every action of the mind comes under one or the other of these faculties. In astate of wakefulness, as in the day-time, these three faculties are all active ; but that is sel- dom the case in sleep, and never perfectly . and this is the cause that our dreams are not so regular and rational as our waking thoughts. The seat of that collection of powers or faculties that consti tute what is called the mind, is in the brain There is not, and cannot be, any visible demonstration of this anatomically, but accidents happening to living persons, show it to beso. An in- jury done to the brain by a fracture of the skull, will sometimes change a wise man into a childish idiot: a being without a mind. , But so careful has nature been of that sanctwm sanctorwm of man, the brain, that of all the external accidents to which hu-: manity is subject, this happens the most seldom. But we often see it happening by long and habitual intemperance. | Whether those three faculties occupy distinct apartments of | the brain, is known only to that Almighty power that formed and organized it. We can see the external effects of muscular motion in all the members of the body, though its prumwum mo- bile, or first moving cause, is unknown to man. Our externalAN ESSAY ON DREAMS. 267 motions are sometimes the effect of intention, and sometimes not. If we are sitting and intend to rise, or standing and in- tend to sit, or to walk, the limbs obey that intention as if they heard the order given. But we make a thousand motions every day, and that as well waking as sleeping, that have no prior intention to direct them. Each member acts as if it had a will or mind of its own. Man governs the whole when he pleases to govern, but in the interims the several parts, like little suburbs, govern themselves without consulting the sovereign. But all these motions, whatever be the generating cause, are external and visible. But with respect to the brain, no ocular observation can be made upon it. Allis mystery ; all is dark- ness in that womb of thought. Whether the brain is a mass of matter in continual rest , whether it has a vibrating pulsative motion, or a heaving and falling motion, like matter in fermentation ; whether different parts of the brain have different motions according to the faculty that is employed, be it the imagimation, the judgment, or the memory, man knows nothing of it. He knows not the cause of his own wit. His own brain conceals it from him. Comparing invisible by visible things, as metaphysical can sometimes be compared to physical things, the operations of those distinct and several faculties have some resemblance to the mech- anism of a watch. The main spring which puts all in motion corresponds to the imagination : the pendulum or balance, which corrects and regulates that motion, corresponds to the judgment : and the hand and dial, like the memory, records the operations. Now in proportion as these several faculties sleep, slumber, or keep awake, during the continuance of a dream, in that pro- portion the dream will be reasonable or frantic, remembered or forgotten. If there is any faculty in mental man that never sleeps it is that volatile thing the imagination: the case is different with the judgment and memory. The sedate and sober constitution of the judgment easily disposes it to rest ; and as to the memory, it records in silence, and is active only when it is called upon. That the judgment soon goes to sleep may be perceived by our sometimes beginning to dream before we are fully asleep ourselves. Somerandom thought runs in the mind, and we start, as it were, into recollection that we are dreaming between sleep- ing and waking. If the Judgment siceps whilst the imagination keeps awake, Poste ete ee eet ee Chel ele 2 rT ratty ee SHH Hae: a) hoe ee he aesre Sa) 268 AN ESSAY ON DREAMS. doa) the dream will be a riotous assemblage of mis-shapen images and ranting ideas, and the more active the imagination is, the wilder the dream will be. The most inconsistent and the most 1mpos- sible things will appear right ; because that faculty, whose pro- vince it is to keep order, is in a state of absence. The master of the school is gone out, and the boys are in an uproar. If the memory sleeps, we shall have no other knowledge of the dream than that we have dreamt, without knowing what it was -bout. In this case it is sensation, rather then recollection, that acts. The dream has given us some sense of pain or trou- ble, and we feelit asa hurt. rather than remember it is aS a Vision. If memory only slumbers, we shall have a faint remembrance of the dream, and after a few minutes it will sometimes happen that the principal passages of the dream wili occur to us more fully. The cause of this is that the memory will sometimes continue slumbering or sleeping after we are awake ourselves, and that so fully, that it may, and sometimes does happen that we do not immediately recollect where we are, nor what we have been about, or have todo. But when the memory starts into wakefulness, it brings the knowledge of these things back upon us, like a flood of light, and sometimes the dream with it. But the most curious circumstances of the mind in a state of dream, is the power it has to become the agent of every per- son, character and thing, of which it dreams. It carries on con- versation with several, asks questions, hears answers, gives and receives information, and it acts all these parts 1tself. But however various and eccentric the imagination may be in the creation of images and ideas, it cannot supply the place of memory with respect to things that are forgotten-when we are awake. For example, if we have forgotten the name of a person, and dream of seeing him and asking him his name, he cannot tell it; for it is ourselves asking ourselves the question. But though the imagination cannot supply the place of real memory, it has the wild faculty of counterfeiting memory. It dreams of persons it never knew, and talks with them as if it remembered them as old acquaintances. It relates circum- stances that never happened, and tells them as if they had happened. It goes to places that never existed, and knows where all the streets and houses are, as if 1t had been there before. The scenes it creates often appear as scenes remem- bered. It will sometimes act a dream within a dream, and, in the delusion of dreaming, tell a dream it never dreamed, andAN ESSAY ON DREAMS. 269 tell it as if it was from memory. It may also be remarked that the imagination in a dream has no idea of time, as time. It counts only by circumstances; and if a succession of circum. stances pass In a dream that would require a great length of time to accomplish them, it will appear to the dreamer that a length of time equal thereto has passed also. As this is the state of the mind in dream, it may rationally be said that every person is mad once in twenty-four hours, for were he to act in the day as he dreams in the night, he would be confined for a lunatic. In a state of wakefulness, those three faculties being all alive, and acting in union, constitute the rational man. In dreams it is otherwise, and, therefore, that state which is called insanity, appears to be no other than a disunion of those faculties, and a cessation of the judgment during wakefulness, that we so often experience during sleep ; and idiotcy, into which some persons have fallen, is that cessa- tion of all the faculties of which we can be sensible when we happen to wake before our memory. In this view of the mind how absurd it is to place reliance upon dreams, and how much more absurd to make them a foundation for religion; yet the belief that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, begotten by the Holy Ghost, a being never heard of before, stands on the story of an old man’s dream. “And behold the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not thou to take unto thee Mary thy wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost.”—Matt. chap. i. verse 20. After this we have the childish stories of three or four other dreams? about Joseph going into Egypt; about his coming back again; about this, and about that, and this story of dreams has thrown Europe into a dream for more than a thousand years. All the efforts that nature, reason, and con- science have made to awaken man from it, have been ascribed by priestcraft and superstition to the workings of the devil, and had it not been for the American revolution, which, by establishing the wnversal right of conscience, first opened the way to free discussion, and for the French revolution which followed, this religion of dreams had continued to be preached, and that after it had ceased to be believed. Those who preached it and did not believe it, still believed the delusion necessary. They were not bold enough to be honest, nor honest enough to be bold. FISTASASRPALE Sagas ee Peete Cre ee heel ore Olea re. SPtSsense ra S2ERSTISFI EL ISeFSS he ot oes ee. a Set ee oe Mbgry — PLS 3 = * o bs rs 3 co 270 AN ESSAY ON DREAMS. (Every new religion, like a new play, requires a new appar- atus of dresses and machinery, to fit the new characters 1t creates. The story of Christ in the New Testament brings a he stage, which it calls the Holy Ghost; and the story of Abraham, the father of the Jews, In the Old Testament, gives existence to a new order of beings it calls Angels.—There was no Holy Ghost before the time of Christ, nor Angels before the time of Abraham.—We hear nothing of these winged gentlemen till more than two thousand years, according to the Bible chronology, from the time they say the heavens, the earth, and ali therein were made :—After this, they hop about as thick as birds in a grove ;—The first we hear of, pays his addresses to Hagar in the wilderness; then three of them visit Sarah; another wrestles a fall with Jacob; and these birds of passage having found their way to earth and back, are continually coming and going. They eat and drink, and up again to heaven. - What they do with the food they carry away, the Bible does not tell us.—Perhaps they do as the birds do: 7) One would think that a system loaded with such gross and vulgar absurdities as scripture religion is, could never have obtained credit; yet we have seen what priestcraft and fanati- cism could do, and credulity believe. From angels in the Old Testament we get to prophets, to witches, to seers of visions, and dreamers of dreams, and some- times we are told, as in 1 Samuel, chap. ix. ver 15, that God whispers in the ear—At other times we are not told how the impulse was given, or whether sleeping or waking.—-In 2 Sam. chap. xxiv. ver. 1, it is said, “And again the anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel, and he moved David against them to say, Go, number Israel and Judah, —And in | Chron. chap. xxi. ver. 1, when the same story is again related, it is said, “And Satan stood up against Israel, and moved David to number [srael.” Whether this was done sleeping or waking, we are not told, but it seems that David, whom they call ‘a man after God’s own heart,” did not know by what spirit he was moved, and as to the men called inspired penmen, they agree so well about the matter, that in one book they say that it was God, and in the other that it was the Devil. _ The idea that writers of the Old Testament had of God was boisterous, contemptible, and vulgar.—They make him the Mars new being upon tAN ESSAY ON DREAMS. 271 of the Jews, the fighting God of Israel, the conjuring God of their Priests and Prophets.—They tell as many fables of him as the Greeks told of Hercules. * * * * * * ¥ ¥ They make their God to say exultingly, “JZ will get me honor upon Pharaoh and upon his Host, upon his Chariots and upon his Horsemen.”—And that he may keep his word, they make him set a trap in the Red Sea, in the dead of the night, for Pharaoh, his host, and his horses, and drown them as a rat- catcher would do so many rats—Great honor indeed! the story of Jack the giant-killer is better told! They pit him against the Egyptian magicians to conjure with him, the three first essays are a dead match—Each party turns his rod into a serpent, the rivers into blood and creates frogs ; but upon the fourth the God of the Israelites obtains the laurel, he covers them all over with lice!—The Egyptian magicians cannot do the same, and this lousy triumph proclaims the vic- tory ! They make their Ged to rain fire and brimstone upon Sodom and Gomorrah, and belch fire and smoke upon mount Sinai, as if he was the Pluto of the lower regions. They make him salt up Lot’s wife like pickled pork ; they make him pass like Shakespeare’s Queen Mab into the brain of their priests, prophets, and prophetesses, and tickle them into dreams, and after making him play all kind of tricks they confound him with Satan, and leave us at a loss to know what God they meant ! This is the descriptive God of the Old Testament; and as to the New, though the authors of it have varied the scene, they have continued the vulgarity. Is man ever to be the dupe of priestcraft, the slave of super- stition? Is he never tc have just ideas of his Creator? It is better not to believe there is a God, than to believe of him falsely. When we behold the mighty universe that surrounds us, and dart our contemplation into the eternity of space, filled with innumerable orbs, revolving in eternal harmony, how paltry must the tales of the Old and New Testaments, profanely called the word of God, appear to thoughtful man? The stu- pendous wisdom and unerring order, that reign and govern throughout this wondrous whole, and call us to reflection, put to shame the Bible /—-The God of eternity and of all that is real, is not the God of passing dreams, and shadows of man’s imagi- nation! The God of truth is not the God of fable: the belief ibm teh Coe eter Les tere erer ey AGREE Selects Foes seirisgsangteegtssss beSseireyePPiRitasetet ite secre: * Ps et Teee ss Sry >! 4 ‘ ; ees cp esa tl AES Db Tot eee rey tH ate AN ESSAY ON DREAMS. of a God begotten and a God crucified, is a God blasphemed _it is making a profane use of reason. |* I shall conclude this Essay on Drean:s with the two first verses of the 34th chapter of Ecclesiasticus, one of the books of the Apocrypha. “The hopes of a man vord of understanding are vian and false; and dreams lift up fools—Whoso regardeth dreams 1s like him that catcheth at a shadow, and followeth after the wind.” * Mr. Paine must have been in an ill humor when he wrote the passage inclosed in crotchets, commencing at page 270; and probably on reviewing it, and discovering exceptionable clauses, was induced to reject the whole, as it does not appear in the edition published by himself. But having ob- obtained the original in the hand writing of Mr. P. and deeming some of the remarks worthy of being preserved, I have thought proper to restore the passage with the exception of the objectionable parts.—EDITOR.4A LETTER TO A FRIEND, A LETTER: BEING AN ANSWER TO A FRIEND ON THE PUBLICATION OF THE AGE OF REASON. Paris, May 12, 1797. In your letter of the 20th of March, show me that my opinions on religion are wrong, and I could give you as many, from the same book, to show that yours are not right; consequently, then, the Bible decides nothing, because it decides any way, and every way, one chooses to make it. But by what authority do you call the Bible the word of God? for this is the first point to be settled. Tt is not your calling it so that makes it so, any more than the Mahometans calling the Koran the word of God makes the Koran to be so. The Popish Councils of Nice and Laodicea, about 350 years aiter the time that the person called Jesus Christ is said to have lived, voted the books, that now compose what is called the New Testament, to be‘the word of God. This was done by yeas and nays, as we now votea law. The Pharisees of the second Temple, after the Jews returned from captivity in Baby- lon, did the same by the books that now compose the Old Tes- tament, and this is all the authority there is, which to me is no authority at all. Iam as capable of judging for myself as they were, and I think more so, because, as they made a living by their religion, they had a self-interest in the vote they gave. You may have an opinion that a man is inspired, but you cannot prove it, nor can you have any proof of it yourself, be- cause you cannot see into his mind in order to know how he comes by his thoughts, and the same is the case with the word revelation.—There can be no evidence of such a thing, for you can no more prove revelation than you can prove what another man dreams of, neither can he prove it himself. It is often said in the Bible that God spake unto Moses, but how do you know that God spake unto Moses? Because, 18 you gave me several quotations from the Bible, which you call the word of God, to oe eT Plato Tere ee ee eae ert). sh pe ecgeiete Perle teaEe re stsASLETTER TO & FRIEND. piseset steele * . u will say, the Bible says so. The Koran says, that God 4 spake unto Mahomet; do you believe that toot No. Why : not? Because, you will say, you do not believe it; and so be- cause you do, and because you dovt, is all the reason you can give for believing or disbelieving, except you will say that Ma- homet was an impostor. And how do you know Moses was not an impostor? For my own part, I believe that all are im- postors who pretend to hold verbal communication with the Deity. Itis the way by which the world has been imposed upon; but if you think otherwise you have the same right to your opinion that I have to mine, and must answer for it in the same manner. But all this does not settle the point, whether the Bible be the word of God, or not. It is, therefore, neces- sary to go a step further. The case then is: You form your opinion of God from the account given of him in the Bible; and I form my opinion of the Bible from the soodness of God, manifested in the structure of the universe, and in all the works of the Creation. The result in these two cases will be, that you, by taking the Bible for your standard, will have a bad opinion of God; and I, by taking yo + Ps Be | eee ee ee PohesT Sette ELEC SE EC CL RSCG LL DESPA Stee ERD ES, wisdom and g < God for my standard, shall have a bad opinion of the Bible. The Bible represents God to be a changeable, passionate vindictive being; making a world, and then drowning it, afterwards repenting of what he had done, and promising not to do so again. Setting one nation to cut the throats of an- other, and stopping the course of the sun till the butchery should be done. But the works of God in the Creation preach to us another doctrine. In that vast volume we see nothing to give us the idea of a changeable, passionate, vindictive God ; every thing we there behold impresses us with a contrary idea ; that of unchangeableness and of eternal order, harmony, and coodness. The sun and the seasons return at their appoin- ted time, and every thing in the Creation proclaims that God is unchangeable. Now, which am I to believe: a book that any impostor may make, and call the word of God, or the Crea- tion itself, which none but an Almighty Power could make? for the Bible says one thing, and the Creation says the contrary. The Bible represents God with all the passions ofa mortal, and the Creation proclaims him with all the attributes of a God. It is from the Bible that man has learned cruelty, rapine, and murder ; for the belief of a cruel God makes a. cruel man. That blood-thirsty man, called the prophet Samuel, makes GodA LETTER TO A FRIEND. 275 to say (1 Sam. chap. xv. ver. 3), “Now go and smite Amalek and utterly destroy all that they have, and spare them not, but slay both man and woman, mfant and suckling, ow and sheep camel and ass.” That Samuel, or some other impostor, might say this, is. what, at this distance of time, can neither be proved nor dis- proved, but, in my opinion, it is blasphemy to say, or to believe that God said it. All our ideas of justice and goodness of God revolt at the impious cruelty of the Bible. It is not a God. just and good, but a devil, under the name of God, that the Bible describes. What makes this pretended order to destroy the Amalekites appear the worse, is the reason given for it. ‘The Amalekites, four hundred years before, according to the account in Exodus, chap 17, (but which has the appearance of fable from the magical account it gives of Moses holding up his hands,) had opposed the Israelites coming into their country, and this t] Amalekites had a right to do, because the Israelites were the invaders, as the Spaniards were the invaders of Mexico; and this opposition by the Amalekit s, at that time, is given as a reason that the men, women, infants and sucklin rs, Sheep and oxen, camels and asses, that were born four hundred years after- wards, should be put to death; and to compiete the horror, Samuel hewed Agag, the chief of the Amalekites, in pieces, as you would hew a stick of wood. I tions on this case. In the first place, nobody knows who the author, or writer, of the book of Samuel was, and, therefore, the fact itself has no other proof than anonymous or hearsay evidence, which is no evidence at all. In the second place, this anonymous book says, that this slaughter was done by the express command of God but all our ideas of the justice and goodness of God give the lie to the book, and as I never will believe any book that ascribes cruelty and injustice to God, I, therefore, reject the Bible as unworthy of credit. As I have now given you my reasons for believing that the Bible is not the word of God, and that it is a falsehood, I have a right to ask you your reasons for believing the contrary ; but I know you can give me none, except that you were educated to believe the Bible, and as the Turks give the same reason for believing the Koran, it is evident that education makes all the difference, and that reason and truth have nothing to do in the will bestow a few observa- Diet el Ci hc SRL e SS CCPC Sere sy Ee es ae ee ee ike re Pee Ss ohare te red SSSTlIRTS eee.Re he PP atau SD) Sate EL EL ES 63 . Sittet tts Dj “ Pi ‘¢ p@rezas a A beh ti et es ihe Es 276 A LETTER TO A FRIEND. case. You believe in the Bible from the accident of birth, and the Turks believe in the Koran from the same accident, and each calls the other infidel.—But leaving the prejudice of educa- ton out of the case, the unprejudiced truth is, that all are inf- dels who believe falsely of God, whether they draw their creed from the Bible, or from the Koran, from the Oid Testament or from the New. When you have examined the Bible with the attention that I have done (for I do not think you know much about it), and permit yourself to have just ideas of God, you will most proba- bly believe as Ido. But I wish you to know that this answer to your letter is not written for the purpose of changing your opinion. It is written to satisfy you, and some other friends whom I esteem, that my disbelief of the Bible is founded on a pure and religious belief in God; for, in my opinion, the Bible is a gross libel against the justice and goodness of God, in almost every part of it. THomas PAINE.CONTRADICTORY DOCTRINES IN NEW TESTAMENT, 27 7 CONTRADICTORY DOCTRINES IN THE NEW TESTAMENT, BETWEEN MATTHEW AND MARK, In the New Testament, Mark “ He that believeth and is baptized shall be Saved ; he that be- lieveth not shall be damned,” This is making salvation, or, in other words, the happiness of man after this life, to depend entirely on believing, or on what Christians call faith. But the 25th chapter of The makes Jesus Christ to preach a di Gospel according to Mark, for it makes salvation, or the future happiness of man, to depend entirely on good works x and those good works are not works done to God, for he needs them not, but good works done to man. The passage referred to in Matthew is the ac given of what is called the last day, where the whole world is parts, the righteous and th the sheep and the goats. To the one part called the r “Come ye blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the beginning of the world—for I was an hungered and ye gave me meat—I wag thirsty and ye gave me drink—J was @ stranger and ye took me in—Naked and ye clothed me —I was sick and ye visited me—TI was in prison and ye came unto me.” Then shall the righteous answ saw we thee an hungered and fed thee, or thirsty and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger and took thee in, or naked and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick and in prison, and came unto thee? “And the king shall answer and say unto them, Verily 7 say unto you, mas much as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” , chap. xvi. ver, 16, it is said: count there or the day of judgment, represented to be divided into two é unrighteous, metaphorically called ighteous, or the sheep, it Says, er him, saying, Lord, when tee CRIS ELST eC re eee s 24 rat pees et rs OE e LD bois ert er et Ss es oees egdecee desese+ seisedaseee345% $ 278 CONTRADICTORY DOCTRINES IN NEW TESTAMENT. abiire rites @ Here is nothing about believing in Christ—nothing about e that phantom of the imagination ealled Faith. The works here spoken of, are works of humanity and benevolence, or, 1n other words, an endeavor to make God’s creation happy Here is nothing about preaching and making long prayers, as if God must be dictated to by man; nor about bi ailding churches and meeting-houses, nor hiring priests to pray and preach in them. Here is nothing about p1 redestination, that lust which some men have for damning one another Here is nothing about baptisin, whether by sprink kling or aden nor about any of those ceremonies for a nae he Christian church has been fighting, persecuting, and burning each other, ever since the Christian church began. 1f it be asked, why do not priests prea wch the doctrine con« tained in this chapter? The answer is easy ;—they are not fond of practising it themselves. It does not answer for their trade They had rather get than give. Charity with them begins and ends at home. Had it been said, Come ye blessed, ye have been liberal wm paying the preachers of the word ye have contributed largely towards building chure chs and meeting-houses, there 1s not a hired priest in Christendom but would have thundered it co tinually in the ears of his congregation, but as it 1s sth optthior on good works done to men, the priests pass over it in silence, and they will abuse me for bringing it into notice. Tuomas PAINE.THOUGHTS ON A FUTURE STATE, MY PRIVATE THOUGHTS ON A FUTURE STATE, I HAVE said, in the first part of the “Age of Reason,” that “T hope for happiness after this life.” This hope is comfortable to me, and I presume not to go beyond the comfortable idea of hope, with respect to a future state. I consider myself in the hands of my Creator, and that he will dispose of me after this life consistently with his justice and goodness. leave all these matters to him, as my Creator and friend, and I hold it to be presumption in man to make an article of faith*as to what the Creator will do with us here- after. I do not believe because a man and a woman make a child, that it imposes on the Creator the unavoidable obligation of keeping the being so made in eternal existence hereafter. It is in his power to do so, or not to do so, and it is not in our power to decide which he will do. The book called the New Testament, which I hold to be fabulous and have shown to be false, gives an account in the 25th chapter of Matthew, of what is thore called the last day, or the day of judgment. The whole world, according to that account, is divided into two parts, the right eous and the un- righteous, figuratively called the sheep and the goats. They are then to receive their sentence. To the one, figuratively called the sheep, it says, “Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” To the other, ficuratively called the goats, it says, “ Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.” Now the case is, the world cannot be thus divided—the moral world, like the physical world, is composed of numerous degrees of character, running imperceptibly the one into the other, in such a manner that no fixed point of division can be found in either. That point is nowhere, or is everywhere. Stet rT es Terese ce Te ee eee se ol re eS PE SRS CF ashe tard bee e ere es PRPS TS ELLER bak pao heSPtrurtcr reteset is S37i2 . PEGS TT SS TIC EL EL ES bs 280 THOUGHES ON A FUTURE STATE. The whole world might be divided into two parts numerically, but not as to moral character; and, therefore, the metaphor of dividing them, as sheep and goats can be divided, whose differ- ence is marked by their external figure, is absurd. All sheep are still sheep; all goats are still goats; it is their physical nature to be so. But one part of the world are not all good alike, nor the other part all wicked alike. There are some exceedingly good; others exceedingly wicked. There is another description of men who cannot be ranked with either the one or the other—they belong neither to the sheep nor the goats. My own opinion is, that those whose lives have been spent in doing good, and endeavoring to make their fellow-mortal: 1appy, for this is the only way in which we can serve God, will be happy hereafter: and that the very wicked will meet with some punishment. This is my opinion. It is consistent with my idea of God's justice, and with the reason that God has given me. THomas PAIne.LETTER TO CAMILLE JORDAN, LETTER TO CAMILLE J ORDAN, ONE OF THE COUNCIL OF FIVE HUNDRED, OCCASIONED BY HIS REPORT ON THE PRIESTS, PUBLIOQ WORSHIP, AND THE BELLS. CrTIzEN REPRESENTATIVE, As everything in your report, relating to what you call worship, connects itself with the books called the Scriptures, I begin with a quotation therefrom. It may serve to give us some idea of the fanciful origin and fabrication of those books. 2 Chronicles, chap. xxxiv. ver. 14, ete. ‘* Hilkiah, the priest, found the book of the law of the Lord given by Moses. And Hilkiah, the priest, said to Shaphan, the scribe, I have found the book of the law in the house of the Lord, and Hilkiah delivered the book to Shaphan. And Shaphan, the scribe, told the king (Josiah), saying, Hilkiah, the priest hath given mea book.” This pretended finding was about a thousand years after the time that Moses is said to have lived. Before this pretended finding, there was no such thing practised or known in the world as that which is called the law of Moses. This being the case, there is every apparent evidence that the books called the books of Moses (and which make the first part of what are called the Scriptures) and forgeries contrived between a priest and a limb,* Hilkiah, and Shaphan, the scribe, a thousand years after Moses is said to have been dead. Thus much for the first part of the Bible. Every other part is marked with circumstances equally suspicious. We ought, therefore, to be reverentially careful how we ascribe books as his word, of which there is no evidence, and against which there is abundant evidence to the contrary, and every cause to suspect imposition. In your report you speak continually of something by the * Tt happens that Camille Jordan is a limb of the law, ibdtee tte ket hte oes ee ee SEPP HG Se dees leces Pe ek ea «te mtdeiens $t4e $45 242e2% flaggersth. Pere. Fs " ee ptes yt 5 A A wee eTee TT Tees. ei Z?3 Pepa Sete ELEC ES Ee Ot REIS Li St ebt eet eee See 3 a re hee iat $e PS hts FS Pe raSiS ri ete teeta. wre rreetensase totes? fi 37 282 LETTER TO CAMILLE JORDAN. name of worship, and you confine yourself to speak of one kind only, as if there were but one, and ‘that one was unquestionably true. The modes of worship are as various as the sects are numerous ; and amidst all this variety and multiplicity there s but one article of belief in which every religion in the world agrees. That article has universal sanction. It is the belief of a God, or what the Greeks described by the word 7heism, and the Latins by that of Deism. Upon this one article have been erected all the different super-structures of creeds and ceremonies continually warring with each other that now exist or ever existed. Bnt the men most and best informed upon the subject of theology, rest themselves upon this universal article, and hold all the various super-structures erected there- on, to be at least doubtful, if not altogether artificial. 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. But since religion has been made into a trade, the practical part has been made to consist of ceremonies performed by men called priest ts; and the people have been amused with ceremonial shows, Seely ee and bells.* By devices of this kind true religion has been banished and such means have been found out to extract money even from the pockets of t he poor, instead of contributing to ‘their relief, * The pr eci se date of mes in ‘vention oft bells an b a acai Th 1e ancients, it appears from Martial, Juvenal, Suctonius and others, had an article named tintinnabula, (usually t translated bell), by which the Romans were summoned to their baths and public places. It seems most probable, that the description of bells now used in churches, were invented about the year 400, and generally adopted before the commencement of the seventh century. oie vious to their invention, however, sounding brass, and sometimes basins, Ww. oan and to the present day the Greek church have boards, or iron pla ate , full of holes, w hich they strike with a hammer, or mallet, to summon the pries sts and others to divine service. We may also remark, that in our own country, it was the custom in monasteries to visit every person’s cell early in the morning, and knock on the door with a similar instrument, called the wakening mallet—doubtless no very pleasing intrusion on the slumbers of the Monks But, the use of bells h aving been established, it was found that devils were terrified at the sound, and slunk in haste away ; in consequence of — which it was thought necessary to baptize them in a solemn manner, which appears to have been first done by Pope John XII. A.D. 968. A record of this practice still exists in the Tom of Lincoln, and the great Tom at Oxford, &c. Having thus laid the foundation of superstitious veneration in the hearts of the common neople, it cannot be a matier of surprise that they were soonLETTER TO CAMILLE JORDAN. 283 No man ought to make a living by religion. It is dishonest 80 to do. Religion is not an act that can be performed by proxy. One person cannot act religion for another. Every person must perform it for himself: and all that a priest can do is to take from him, he wants nothing but his money, and then to riot in the spoil and lauch at his credulity. > The only people, as a professional sect of Christians, who provide for the poor of their society, are people known by the name of Quakers. Those men have no priests. They assemble quietly in their places of meeting, and do not disturb their neighbours with shows and noise of bells. Religion does not unite itself to show and noise. True religion is without either, Where there is both there is no true religion. The first object for inquiry in all cases, more especially in matters of religious concern, is TRUTH. Weou ght to inquire into the truth of whatever we are taught to believe, and it is certain that the books called the Scriptures stand, in this res- pect, in more than a doubtful predicament. They have been held in existence, and in a sort of credit among the common class of people, by art, terror, and persecution. They have lit- tie or no credit among the enlightened part, but they have been made the means of encumbering the world with a numerous used at rejoicings, and high festivals in the church (for the purpose of driv- ing away any evil spirit which might be in the neighborhood) as well as on the arrival of any great personage, on which occasion the usual fee was one penny. One other custom remains to be explained, viz., tolling bell on the occasion of any person’s death, a custom which, in the manner now practised, is totally different from its original institution. It appears to have been used as early as the 7th century, when bells were first generally used, and to have been denominated the soul bell (as it signified the departing of the soul), as also, the passing bell. Thus Wheatly tells us, ‘‘Our church, in imitation of the Saints of former ages, calls in the Minister and others who are at hand, to assist their brother in his last extremity; in order to this, she directs a bell should be tolled when any one is passing out of this life.” Durand also says—‘‘ When any one is dying, bells must be tolled, that the people may put up their prayers for him; let this be done twice for a woman, and thrice fora man. If fora clergyman, as many times as he had orders ; and, at the conclusion, a peal on all the bells, to distinguish the quality of the person for whom the people are to put up their prayers.”—From these passages, it appears evident that the bell was to be tolled before a person’s decease rather than after, as at the present day; and that the object was to obtain the prayers of all who heard it, for the repose of the soul of their departing neighbor. At first, when the tolling took place after the person’s decease, it was deemed superstitious, and was partially disused, which was found materially to affect the revenue of thechurch. The priesthood having removed the objection, bells were again tolled, upon payment of the custom- ary fees.—Znglish Paper. ans tS as By ethers Tere | Sigsasecrees? +4 o« Pe TeLr ere aray TT eee Eke ahs Soe, Bx a nb Pee eh Sete pis tetaeEet hice oeST Eiri 5:49 . ce . os * errerseeri tee rer es Preyer re See et EL EL ES SC EL ASE CS Li tthe eG tee eee aE Be hd be . ee ree re Ti % -s ht 284 LETTER TO CAMILLE JORDAN, priesthood, who have fattened on the labour of the people, and consumed the sustenance that ought to be applied to the widows and the poor. It is a want of feeling to talk of priests and bells whilst SO many infants are perishing in the hopitals, and aged and infirm poor in the streets, from want of necessaries. The abundance that France produces is sufficient for every want, 1 rightly ap- plied ; but priests and bells, like articles of luxury, ought to be the least articles of consideration. We talk of religion. Let us talk of truth ; for that which is not the truth, is not worthy the name of religion. We see different parts of the world overspread with different books, each of which, though contradictory to the other, is said by its partisans, to be of divine origin, and is made a rule of faith and practice. In countries under despotic governments, where inquiry is always forbidden, the people are condemned to believe as they have been taught by their priests. This was for many centuries the case in France: but this link in the chain of slavery, is happily broken by the revolution; and, that it may never be rivetted again, let us employ a part of the liberty we enjoy in scrutinizing into the truth. let us leave behind us some monument, that we have made the cause and honor of our Creator an object of our care. If we have been imposed upon by the terrors of government and the artifice of priests in matters of religion, let us do justice to our Creator by ex- amining into the case. His name is too sacred to be aflixed to anything which is fabulous; and it is our duty to inquire whether we believe, or encourage the people to believe, in fables or in facts. It would be a project worthy the situation we are in, to in- vite inquiry of this kind. We have committees for various opjects ; and, among others, a committee for bells. We have institutions, academies, and societies for various purposes; but we have none for inquiring into historical truth in matters of religious concern. They show us certain books which they call the Holy Scrip- tures, the word of God, and other names of that kind; but we ought to know what evidence there is for our believing them to be so, and at what time they originated and in what manner. We know that men could make books, and we know that arti- fice and superstition could give them a name; could call them sacred. But we ought to be careful that the name of our Crea-LETTER TO CAMILLE JORDAN, 285 tor be not abused. Let then all the evidence with respect to those books be made a subject of inquiry. If there be evid to warrant our belief of them, | of it: but if not, let us be c delusion and falsehood. I have already spoken of the Quakers—that they have no priests, no bells—and that they are remarkable for their care of the poor of their society. They are equally as remarkable for the education of their children. I am a descendant of a family of that profession; my father was a Quaker; and I pre- sume I may be admitted an evidence of what I assert. The seeds of good principles, and the literary means of advancement in the world, are laid in early life. Instead, therefore, of con- suming the substance of the nation upon priests, whose life at best is a life of idleness, let us think of providing for the education of those who have not the means of doing it them- selves: One good schoolmaster is of more use than a hundred priests. If we look back at what was the condition of France under the ancient regime, we cannot acquit the priests of corrupting the morals of the nation. Their pretended celibacy led them to carry debauchery and domestic infidelity into where they could gain admission; and their blasphemous pre- tensions to forgive sins, encouraged the commission of them. Why has the Revolution of France been stained with crimes which the Revolution of the United States of America was not? Men are physically the same in all countries; it is education that makes them different. Accustom a people to believe that priests, or any other class of men, can forgive sins, and you will have sins in abundance. I come now to speak more particularly to the object of your report. Aaa’ You claim a privilege incompatible with the constitution and with rights. The constitution protects equally, as It ought to do, every profession of religion; it gives no exclusive privilege to any. The churches are the common property of all the people ; they are national goods, and cannot be given exclu~ sively to any one profession, because the right does not exist of giving to any one that which appertains to all. It would be consistent with right that the churches be sold, and the money arising therefrom be invested as a fund for the education of children of poor parents of every profession, and, if more than ence et us encourage the propagation areful not to promote the cause of every family vd ev SetLtort Teri etre res ree? es peste ts eke ere - ste $5 a5 sseest ragecge Paes ae oe286 LETTER TO CAMILLE JORDAN. sufficient for this purpose, that the surplus be appropriated to the support of the aged poor. After this, every profession can erect its own place of worship, if it choose—support its own priests, if it choose to have any—or perform its worship with- out priests, as the Quakers do. Ag to the bells, they area public nuisance. Ifone profession is to have bells, another has the right to use the instruments of the same kind, or any other noisy instrument. Some may choose +o meet at the sound of cannon, another at the beat of drum, another at the sound of trumpets, and so on, until the whole becomes a scene of general confusion. But if we per- mit ourselves to think of the sick, and the many sleepless nights and days they undergo, we shall feel the impropriety of increasing their distress by the noise of bells, or any other noisy instruments. Quiet and private domestic devotion neither offends nor in- commodes anybody; and the constitution has wisely guarded against the use of externals. Bells come under this description, and public processions still more so—Streets and highways are for the accommodation of persons following their several occupa- tions, and no sectary has a right to incommode them—If any one has, every other has the same; and the meeting of various and contradictory processions would be tumultuous. Those who formed the constitution had wisely reflected upon these cases; and, whilst they were careful to reserve the equal right of every one, they restraiaed every one from giving offence, or incom- moding another. Men, who through a long and tumultuous scene, have lived in retirement as you have done, may think, when they arrive at power, that nothing is more easy than to put the world to rights in an instant; they form to themselves gay ideas at the success of their projects; but they forget to contemplate the difficulties that attend them, and the dangers with which they are pregnant. Alas! nothing is so easy as to deceive one’s self. Did all men think, as you think, or as you say, your plan would need no acvocate, because it would have no opposer ; but there are millions who think differently to you, and who are determined to be neither the dupes nor the slaves of error or design. It is your good fortune to arrive at power, when the sun- shine of prosperity is breathing forth after a long and stormy night. The firmness of your colleagues, and of those you haveLETTER TO CAMILLE JORDAN, 287 succeeded—the unabated energy of the Directory, and the un- equalled bravery of the armies of the Republic, have made the way smooth and easy to you. If you look back at the difficul- ties that existed when the constitution commenced, you cannot but be confounded with admiration at the difference between that time and now. At that moment the Directory were placed like the forlorn hope of an army, but you were in safe retire- ment. ‘They occupied the post of honourable danger, and they have merited well of their country. You talk of justice and benevolence, but you begin at the wrong end. The defenders of your country, and the deplor- able state of the poor, are objects of prior consideration to priests and bells and gaudy processions, You talk of peace, but your manner of talking of it em- barrasses the Directory in making it, and serves to prevent it. Had you been an actor in all the scenes of government from its commencement, you would have been too well informed to have brought forward projects that operate to encourage the enemy. When you arrived at a share in the government, you found every thing tending to a prosperous issue. A series of victories unequalled in the world, and in the obtaining of which you had no share, preceded your arrival. Every enemy but one was subdued ; and that one, (the Hanoverian government of England) deprived of every hope, and a bankrupt in all its resourges, was sueing for peace. In such a state of things, no new question that might tend to agitate and anarchize the in- terior, ought to have had place ; and the project you propose tends directly to that end. Whilst France was a monarchy, and under the government of those things called kings and priests, England could always defeat her ; but since France has RISEN TO BE A REPUB- LIC, the GovERNMENT OF ENGLAND crouches beneath her, so great is the difference between a government. of kings and priests, and that which is founded on the system of represen- tation. But, could the government of England find a way, under the sanction of your report, to inundate France with a flood of emigrant priests, she would find also the way to dom- ineer as before ; she would retrieve her shattered finances at your expense, and the ringing of bells would be the tocsin of your downfall. Did peace consist in nothing but the cessation of war, 1t would not be difficult; but the terms are yet to be arranged ; tb te et oe CP cL e er ee) SSeS SS Tee ee. OF Pooh). tots eee errors 52h 2S | 288 LETTER TO CAMILLE JORDAN. and those terms will be better or worse, in proportion as France and her councils be united or divided. That the government of England counts much upon your report, and upon others of 4 sumilar tendency, is what the writer of this letter, who knows that government well, has no doubt. You are but new on the theatre of government, and you ought to suspect yourself of misjudging ; the experience of those who have gone before you should be of some service to you. But if, in consequence of such measures as you propose, you put it out of the power of the Directory to make a good peace, and to accept of terms you would afterwards reprobate, it is yourselves that must bear the censure. You conclude your report by the following address to your colleagues :— ‘Let us hasten, representatives of the people! to affix. to these tutelary laws the seal of our unanimous approbation. All our fellow-citizens will learn to cherish political liberty from the enjoyment of religious liberty : you will have broken the most powerful arm of your enemies ; you will have sur- rounded this assembly with the most impregnant rampart— confidence, and the people’s love. O! my colleagues! how desirable is that popularity which is the offspring of good jaws! What a consolation it will be to us hereafter, when returned to our own fire-sides, to hear from the mouths of our fellow-citizens, these simple expressions—Blessings reward you men of veace! you have restored to us our temples—our minis- ters—the liberty of adoring the God of our fathers: you have recalled harmony to our families—morality to our hearts: you have made us adore the legislature and respect all its laws ? ” PS 14 possible, citizen representative, that you can be serious in this address? Were the lives of the priests under the ancient regime such as to justify anything you say of them ? Were not all: France convinced of their immorality 2 Were they not considered as the patrons of debauchery and domestic infidelity, and not as the patrons of morals? What was their pretended celibacy but perpetual adultery? What was their blasphemous pretentions to forgive sins, but an encouragement to the commission of them, and a love for their own ? Do you want to lead again into France all the vices of which they have been the patrons, and to overspread the republic with English pensioners? It is cheaper to corrupt than to conquer ; and the English government, unable fo eonquer. wil] stoop to corrupt.LETTER TO CAMILLE JORDAN. 289 Arrogance and meanness, though in vices of the same heart. Instead of concluding in the manner you have done, you ought rather to have said :-— “QO! my colleagues! we are arrived at a glorious period—a, period that promises more than we could have expected, and all that we could have wished. Let us hasten to take into con. sideration the honours and rewards due to our brave defenders. Let us hasten to give encouragement to agriculture and manu- factures, that commerce may reinstate itself, and our people have employment. .Let us review the condition of the suffer- ing poor, and wipe from our country the reproach of forgetting them. Let us devise means to establish schools of instruction, that we may banish the ignorance that the ancient regime of kings and priests had spread among the people.—Let us propa- gate morality, unfettered by superstition—Let us cultivate justice and benevolence, that the God of our fathers may bless us. The helpless infant and the aged poor cry to us to remem- ber them—Let not wretchedness be seen in our streets Let France exhibit to the world the glorious example of expelling ignorance and misery together. ‘Let these, my virtuous colleagues, be the subject of our care, that, when we return among our fellow-citizens, they may say, Worthy representatives / you have done well. You have done justice and honor to our brave defenders. You have en- couraged agriculture—cherished our decayed manufactures— given new life to commerce, and employment to our people. You have removed from our country the reproach of Jorgetting the poor —You have caused the cry of the orphan to cease—You have wiped the tear from the eye of the suffering mother— You have gwen comfort to the aged and infirm— You have penetrated into the gloomy recesses of wretchedness, and have banished it. Wel- come among us, ye brave and virtuous representatives / and may your example be followed by your successors /” appearance opposite, are THOMAS PAINE, Paris, 1797, Melb oLi eT ciate tere aree ye m Pieeet toe eee! ator eee tg ergs wa gissess >: > ry PRES SS LE Bs SP peestei as sGe2452 SeDISCOURSE TO THE SOCIETY A DISCOURSE DELIVERED TO THE SOCIETY OF THEOPHILANTHROPISTS AT PARIS. Rettcion has two principal enemies, Fanaticism and Infidelity, or that which is called atheism. ‘The first requires to be com- bated by reason and morality, the other by natural philosophy. The existence of a God is the first dogma of the Theophilan- It is upon this subject that I solicit your attention ; oh it has been often treated of, and that most sub- he subject is inexhaustible ; and there will always re- has not been before advanced. thropists. for thou limely, t main something to be said that [ go, therefore, to open the subject, and to crave your attention to the end. ‘The universe is the Bible of a true Theophilanthropist. It ‘< there that he reads of God. It is there that the proofs of his existence are to be sought and to be found. As to written or printed books, by whatever name they are called they are the works of man’s hands, and carry no evidence in themselves ‘that God is the author of any of them. It must be in some- that man could not make, that we must seek evidence for thing is the universe ; the true Bible ; thing our belief, and that some the inimitable work of God. Contemplating the universe, the whole system of creation, in this point of light, we shall discover that all that which is called natural philosophy is properly a divine study. It is the study of God through his works. It is the best study by which we can arrive at a knowledge of his existence, and the only one by which we can gain a glimpse of his perfection. Do we want to contemplate his power? We see it in the immensity of the Creation. Do we want to contemplate his wisdom? Wesee it in the unchangeable order by which the in- comprehensible WHOLE is governed. Do we want to contem- plate his munificence? We see it in the abundance with which he fills the earth. Do we want to contemplate his mercy * We see it in his not withholding that abundance even from the un-OF THEOPHILANTHROPISTS. 291 thankful. In fine, do we want to know what God is? not written nor printed books : Creation. It has been the error of the schools to teach all the other sciences, and subjects of natural philosophy, as accomplishments only ; whereas they should be aught theolo- gically, or with reference to the Being who is the author of them : for all the principles of science are of divine origin. Man cannot make, or invent, or contriv € principles. He can only discover them ; and he ought to look through the the Author. discovery to When we examine an extraordinary piece of machinery, an astonishing pile of architecture, a well executed Statue, or an highly finished painting, where life and action are imitated, and habit only prevents our mistaking a surface of light and shade for cubical solidity, our ideas are naturally led to think of the extensive genius and talents of the artists. When we study the elements of geometry, we think of Euclid. When he speak of gravitation, we think of Newton, How then is it, that when we study the works of G od in the Creation, we stop short, and do not think of God? It is from the error of the schools in hay- ing caught those subjects as accomplishments only, and thereby separated the study of them from the being who is the author of them. The schools have made the study of theology to consist in the study of opinions in written or printed books ; whereas theo. logy should be studied in the works or books of the Creation, The study of theology in books of opinions has often produced fanaticism, rancor, and crue ty of temper; and from hence have proceeded the numerous persecutions, the fanatical quarrels, the religious burnings and massacres, that have desolated Europe. But the study of theology in the works of the Creation produces a direct contrary effect. The mind becames at once enlightened and serene; a copy of the scene it beholds: information and idoration go hand in hand; and all the socjal enlarged. The evil that has resulted from the error of the schools, in teaching natural philosophy as an accomplishment only, has been that of generating in the pupils a species of atheism. In- stead of looking through the works of the Creation, to the Cre- ator himself, they stop short, and employ the knowledge they acquire to create doubts of his existence. They labor with Search but the scripture called the astronomy, and faculties become ‘ete et oko ere ad Poe ae er tre eee! bs stems dmbes, aS ye teeters oD ka eeeSipibieTesigesieiigen 292 DISCOURSE TO THE SOCIETY studied ingenuity to ascribe everything they behold to innate properties of matter; and jump over all the rest, by saying, that matter is eternal. Let us examine this subject; it 1s worth examining; for if we examine it through ail its cases, the result will be, that the existence of a superior cause, or that which man calls God, will be discoverable by philosophical principles. In the first place, admitting matter to have properties, as we see it has, the question stil remains, how came matter by those properties ! To this they will answer, that matter possessed those properties eternally. This is not solution, but assertion: and to deny itis equally impossible of proof as to assert it. It is then necessary to go further ; and, therefore, I say, if there exist a circumstance that is not a property of matter, and with- out which the universe, or, to speak in a limited degree, the solar system, composed of planets and a sun, could not exist a moment; all the arguments ot atheism, drawn from properties of matter and applied to account for the universe, will be over- thrown, and the existence of a superior cause, or that which man calls God, becomes discoverable, as is before said, by natu- ral philosophy. I go now to show that such a circumstance exists, and what it is: The universe is composed of matter, and, as a system, is sus- tained by motion. Motion is not a property of matter, and with- out this motion, the solar system could not exist. Were mo- tion a property of matter, that undiscovered and undiscoverable thing called perpetual motion would establish itself. It is be- cause motion is not a property of matter that perpetual motion is an impossibility in the hand of every being but that of the Creator of motion. When the pretenders to atheism can pro- duce perpetual motion, and not till then, they may expect to be credited. The natural state of matter, as to place, is a state of rest. Motion, or change of place, is the effect of an external cause acting upon matter. As to that faculty of matter that is called gravitation, it is the influence which two or more bodies have reciprocally on each other to unite and to be at rest. Every- thing which has hitherto been discovered, with respect to the motion of the planets in the system, relates only to the laws by which motion acts, and not to the cause of motion. Gravita- tion, so far from being the cause of motion to the planets that ¢OF THEOPHILANTI IROPISTS, compose the solar system, would be the destruction of the solar System, were revolutionary motion to cease; for as the of spinning upholds a top, the rey planets in their orbits, and pr forming one mass with the of the word, philosophy knows, and atheism Says, that matter is in perpetual motion. But motion here refers to the state of matter, and that only on the surface of the earth. Tt is either decompo- sition, which is continually destroying the form of bodies of matter, or re-composition, which renews that Matter in the Same or another form, as the decomposition of animal or vege- table substances enter into the composition of other bodies. But the motion that upholds the solar System is of an entire different kind, and is not a property of matter. It operates also to an entire different effect. Tt Operates to perpetual pre- servation, and to prevent any change in the state of the system, Giving then to matter all the properties which philosophy knows it has, or all that atheism ascribes to it, and can prove, and even Supposing matter to be eternal, it will not account for system of the universe, or of the solar System, because it will not account for motion, and it is motion that preserves it, When, therefore, we discover 4 circumstance of such immense importance, that without it the universe could not exist, and for which neither Matter, nor any, nor all the properties of matter can account; we are by necessity forced into the rational and comfortable belief of the existence of a cause superior to matter, and that cause man calls God. As to that which is called nature, it ig no other than the laws by which motion and action of every kind, with respect to unintelligible matter is regulated. And when we speak of looking through nature up to nature’s God, we speak philo- sophically the same rational] Janguage as when we speak of 7 looking through human laws up to the power that ordained them. action olutionary motion upholds the events them from g sun. In one sense K ravitating and God is the power or first cause, is the subject acted upon. But infidelity, by ascribing every phenomenon to properties of matter, conceives a system for which it cannot account, and yet it pretends to demonstration. It reasons from what it sees on the surface of the earth, but it does not carry itself to the solar system existing by motion. It sees upon the surface a Perpetua! decomposition and recomposition of matter.” It sees nature is the law, and matter Teeter tee et ttee ees es tgeedsagagadeaais eee tek Be ees >*-* mas Age ret de bas ecrege frees se, Pe eS es poe tePee es Ririrttisty 994 DISCOURSE TO THE SOCIETY that an oak produces an acorn, an acorn an oak, a bird an egg, an eve a bird, and so on. In things of this kind it sees some- thine which it calls natural cause, but none of the causes it sees is the cause of that motion which preserves the solar system. Let us contemplate this wonderful and stupendous system consisting of matter and existing by motion. It is not matter *n a state of rest, nor in a state of decomposition or re-com- yosition. It is matter systematized in perpetual orbicular or ( As a system that motion is the life of it, as animation is life to an animal body; deprive the system of motion, and, as a system, it must expire. Who then breathed ‘nto the system the life of motion? What power impelled the planets to move, since motion is not a property of the matter of which they are composed? If we contemplate the immense velocity of this motion, our wonder becomes inereased, and our adoration enlarges itself in the same proportion. ‘To instance only one of the planets, that of the earth we inhabit, its dis- tance from the sun, the centre of the orbits of all the planets, ations of the transit of the planet Venus, miles; consequently, the diameter h the earth moves round the sun, the measure of the circumference circular motion. is, according to observ about one hundred million of the orbit, or circle in whic ‘s double that distance; and of the orbit, taken as three times its diameter, is six hundred million miles. The earth performs this voyage in 365 days and some hours, and consequently moves at the rate of more than one million six hundred thousand miles every 1 wenty-four hours. Where will infidelity, where will atheism find cause for this astonishing velocity of motion, never ceasing, never varying, and which is the preservation of the earth in its orbit? It is not by reasoning from an acorn to an oak, or from any change ‘n the state of matter on the surface of the earth, that this can be accounted for. Its cause is not to be found in matter, nor in anything we call nature. The atheist who affects to reason, and the fanatic who rejects reason, plunge themselves alike nto inextricable difficulties. The one perverts the sublime and enlightening study of natural philosophy into a deformity of absurdities by not reasoning to the end. The other loses him- self in the obscurity of metaphysical theories, and dishonors the Creator, by treating the study of his works with contempt. The one is a half-rational of whom there is some hope, the other a visionary to whom we must be charitable.OF THEOPHILANTHROPISTS, 295 When at first thought we think of the Creator, our ideas appear to us undefined and confused; but if we reason philo- sophically, those ideas can be easily arranged and simplified. It is a Being whose power is equal to his will. Observe the nature of the will of man. It is of an infinite quality. We cannot conceive the possibility of limits to the will. Observe on the other hand, how exceedingly limited is his power of act- ing, compared with the nature of his will. Suppose the power equal to the will, and man would be a God. He would will himself eternal, and be so. He could will a creation, and could make it. In this progressive reasoning, we see in the nature of the will of man, half of that which we conceive of thinking of God; add the other half, and we have the whole idea of a being who could make the universe, and sustain it by perpetual motion; because he could create that motion. We know nothing of the capacity of the will of animals, but we know a great deal of the difference of their powers. For example, how numerous are their degrees, and how immense is the difference of power from a mite to a man. Since then everything we see below us shows a progression of power, where is the difficulty in supposing that there is, at the semmit of all things, a Being in whom an infinity of power unites with the infinity of the will, When this simple idea presents itself to our mind, we have the idea of a perfect Being that man calls God. It is comfortable to live under the belief of the existence of an infinitely protecting power ; and it is an addition to that comfort to know that such a belief is not a mere conceit of the imagination, as many of the theories that are called religious are; nor a belief founded only on tradition or received opinion, but is a belief deducible by the action of reason upon the things that compose the system of the universe: a belief arising out of visible facts: and so demonstrable is the truth of this be- lief, that if no such belief had existed, the persons who now controvert it would have been the persons who would have produced and propagated it, because, by beginning to reason, they would have been led on to reason progressively to the end, and, thereby, have discovered that matter and all the properties it has, will not account for the system of the universe, and that there must necessarily be a superior cause. iM It was the excess to which imaginary systems of religion had been carried, and the intolerance, persecutions, burnings s#€2apsas s Percei Pare yeri re ae es tote eel «frtrdmbes ae eas eG eoeerye pee hg ee ee Seerttitttt tise ree 4 tats — 4h259 25924943 296 DISCOURSE TO THE SOCIETY and massacres, they occasioned, that first induced certain per- sons to propagate infidelity ; thinking, that upon the whole, it was better not to believe at all, than to believe a multitude of things and complicated creeds, that occasioned so much mischief in the world. But those days are past: persecution has ceased, and the antidote then set up against it has no longer even the shadow of an apology. We profess, and we proclaim in peace, the pure, unmixed, comfortable, and rational belief of a God, as manifested to us in the universe. We do this without any apprehension of that belicf being made a cause of persecution as other beliefs have been, or of suffering persecution ourselves. To God, and not to man, are all men to account for their belief. It has been well observed at the first institution of this society that the dogmas it professes to believe, are from the commencement of the world; that hey are not novelties, but are confessedly the basis of all systems of religion, however numerous and contradictory they may be All men in the outset of the religion they profess are Theophilanthropists. It is impossible to form any system of religion without build- ing upon those princi ples, and, therefore, they are not sectarian principles, unless we suppose a sect composed of all the world. I have said in the course of this discourse, that the study of natural philosophy is a divine study, because it is the study of the works of God in the Creation. If we consider theology upon this ground, what an extensive field of improvement in things both divine and human opens itself before us. All the principles of science are of divine origin. It was not man that invented the principles on which astronomy, and every branch of mathematics are founded and studied. It was not man that gave properties of the circle and triangle. Those principles are eternal and immutable. We see in them the unchangeable nature of the Divinity. We see in them immortality, an im- mortality existing after the material figures that express those properties are dissolved in dust. The society is at present in its infancy, and its means are small; but 1 wish to hold in view the subject I allude to, and instead of teaching the philosophical branches of learning as ornamental accomplishments only, as they have hitherto been taught, to teach them in a manner that shall combine theologi- cal knowledge with scientific instruction ; to do this to the best advantage, some instruments wil! be necessary for the purpose of explanation, of which the society is not yet possessed. ButasOF THEOPHILANTHROPISTS. 297 the views of the society extend to public good, as well as to that of the individual, and as its principles c mies, means may be devised to procure them. If we unite to the present instruction, a series of lectures on the ground I have mentioned, we shall, in the first place render theology the most delightful and entertaining of all studies. In the next place we shall give scientific instruction to those who could not otherwise obtain it. The mechanic of every profession will there be taught the mathematical princi- ples necessary to render him a proficient in his art. The eulti- vator will there see developed the principles of vegetation: while, at the same time, they will be led to see the hand of God in all these things. an have no ene- SEPT IE Le HS eee est cS tisdee: SASLERPALE Pages se divg> Hee ee ikl ‘ oad o J ’ ae 5 Oa ry 4 reREMARKS ON ROBERT HALLS SERMONS. arts ee eie es Peete REMARKS ON ROBERT HALL’S SERMONS. Rosert Hatt, a protestant minister in England, preached and published a sermon against what he calls ‘* Modern Infi- delity.” A copy of it was sent to a gentleman in America, with a request for his opinion thereon. That gentleman sent it to a friend of his in New York, with the request written on the cover—and this last sent it to Thomas Paine, who wrote the following observations on the blank leaf at the end of the sermon :— The preacher of the foregoing sermon speaks a great deal about infidelity, but does not define what he means by it. His harangue is a general exclamation. Every thing, I suppose, that is not in his creed is infidelity with him, and his creed is infidelity with me. Infidelity is believing falsely. if what christians believe is not true, it is the christians that are the infidels. The point between deists and christians is not about doc- trine, but about facts—for if the things believed by the chris- tians to be facts, are not facts, the doctrine founded thereon falls of itself. There is such a book as the Bible, but is it a fact that the Bible is revealed religion? ‘The christians cannot prove it is. They put tradition in place of evidence, and tra- dition is not praof. If it were, the reality of witches could be proved by the same kind of evidence. The bible is a history of the times of which it speaks, and history is not revelation. The obscene and vulgar stories in the bible are as repugnant to our ideas of the purity of a divine being, as the horrid cruelties and murders it ascribes to him are repugnant to our ideas of his justice. It is the reverence of the Deists for the attributes of the Derry that causes them to reject the bible. Is the account which the christian church gives of the per- son called Jesus Christ a fact ora fable? Is ita fact that he mn | i was begotten by the Holy Ghost? The christians cannot prove Segessei tesgrateeseRizets Etat eS 9S oe test tiger est eeeREMARKS ON ROBERT HALL’S SERMONS, 299 it, for the case does not admit of proof. The things called miracles in the bible, such, for instance, as raising the dead, admitted, if true, of ocular demonstration, but the story of the conception of Jesus Christ in the womb is a case beyond miracle, for it did not admit of demonstration. Mary, the re- puted mother of Jesus, who must be supposed to know best, never said so herself, and all the evidence of it is, that the book of Matthew says, that Joseph dreamed an angel told him so. Had an old maid of two or three hundred years of age, brought forth a child, it would have been much better presump- tive evidence of a supernatural conception, than Matthew’s story of Joseph’s dream about his young wife. Is it a fact that Jesus Christ died for the sins of the world, and how is it proved? Ifa God hecould not die and as aman he could not redeem, how then is this redemption proved to be fact? It is said that Adam eat of the forbidden fruit, commonly called an apple, and thereby subjected himself and all his pos- terity for ever to eternal damnation. This is worse than visit- ing the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generations. But how was the death of Jesus Christ to affect or alter the case?—Did God thirst for blood? IE£ s0, would it not have been better to have crucified Adam at once upon the forbidden tree, and made a new man? Would not this have been more creator-like than repairing the old one? Or, did God, when he made Adam, Supposing the story to be true, exclude himself from the right of making another? Or impose on himself the necessity of breeding from the old stock 1 Priests should first prove facts, and deduce doctrines from them afterwards. But, instead of this they assume everything and prove nothing. Authorities drawn from the bible are no more than authorities drawn from other books, unless it can be proved that the bible is revelation. This story of the redemption will not stand examination. That man should redeem himself from the sin of eating an apple, by commiting a murder on Jesus Christ, is the strangest system of religion ever set up. Deism is perfect purity compared with this. It isan established principle with the quakers not to shed blood—suppose, then, all Jerusalem had been quakers when Christ lived, there would have been nobody to crucify him, and in that case if man is redeemed by his blood, which is the belief of the church, there could have been no redémption—and the people of Jerusalem must all have been damned, because they ee eS See eee PESASSZRSAZ¢ASAc!e eats eels ee *oterdetedaeeess guarave easPieesetet esis ae PsP ts a Cn ie n ‘ eee Ci aed “ ote oS n ee toe ie rer - es “ eee To. te Sees Bs 2ee eats ae ad asisitd oy y Sees eees ys eseee z: 300 REMARKS ON ROBERT HALLS SERMONS. The christian system of re- were too good to commit murder. Why is man afraid to ligion is an outrage on common sense. think } Why do not the christians, to be consistent, make saints of Judas and Pontius Pilate, for they were the persons who ac- complished the act of salvation. The merit of a sacrifice, if there can be any merit in it, was never in the. thing sacrificed, but in the persons offering up the sacrifice—and, therefore, Judas and Pontius Pilate ought to stand first on the calendar of saints. THomas PAINE.OF THE WORD RELIGION, OF THE WORD RELIGION, AND OTHER WORDS OF UN CERTAIN SIGNIFICATION, Tx word religion is a word of forced application when used with respect to the worship of God. The root of the word is the latin verb ligo, to tie or bind. From ligo comes religo, to tie or bind over again, or make more fast—from religo comes substantive religio, which, with the addition of n makes the English substantive religion. The French use the word properly —when a woman enters a convent she is called a noviciat, that is, she is upon trial or probation. When she takes the oath, she called a religieuse, that is, she is tied or bound by that oath to the performance of it. We use the word in the same kind of sense when we say we will religiously perform the promise that we make, But the word, without referring to its etymology, has, in the manner it is used, no definitive meaning, because it does not designate what religion a man is of. There is the religion of the Chinese, of the Tartars, of the Bramins, of the Persians, of the Jews, of the Turks, ete, The word Christianity is equally as vague as the word reli- gion. No two sectaries can agree what it is. Itisa lo here and lo there. The two principal sectaries, Papists and Protes- tants, have often cut each other’s throats about it:—The Papists call the Protestants heretics, and the Protestants call the Papists idolators. The minor sectaries have shown the same spirit of rancor, but, as the civil law restrains them from blood, they content themselves with preaching damnation against each other. The word protestant has a positive signification in the sense itis used. It means protesting against the authority of the Pope, and this is the only article in which the protestants agree. -In every other sense, with respect to religion, the word pro- testant is as vague as the word christian. When we say an episcopalian, a presbyterian, a baptist, a quaker, we know what those persons are and what tenets they hold—but when we say a christian, we know he is not a Jew nor a Mahometan, but we know not if he be a trinitarian or ar anti-trinitarian, or a be $25n052E54753 25332 eer ete e es bee | sha tISSASS SRB ee tat hae i Rede Gerdes Se esdmbe, PS Se hs ae ks Soe PS ES eo osSee ee See ELE LES ES Pt tetera gi ee! ~ reese teers beset hetel 302 OF THE WORD RELIGION. liever in what is called the immaculate conception, or a disbe- liever, a man of seven sacraments, or of two sacraments, or of none. The word christian describes what a man is not, but not what he is. The word Theology, from Theos, the Greek word for God, and meaning the study and knowledge ef God, is a word, that strictly speaking, belongs to Theists or Deists, and not to the christians. The head of the christian church is the person called Christ—but the head of the church of the Theists or Deists, as they are more commonly called, from Deus, the latin word for God, is God himself, and therefore the word Theology belongs to that church which has Theos, or God, for its head, and not to the Christian church which has the person called Christ for its head. Their technical word is Christianity, and they cannot agree what Christianity is. The words revealed religion, and natural religion, require also explanation. They are both invented terms, contrived by the church for the support of priestcraft. With respect to the first, there is no evidence of any such thing, except in the uni- versal revelation that God has made of his power, his wisdom, his goodness, in the structure of the universe, and in all the works of creation. We have no cause or ground from any thing we behold in those works, to suppose God would deal partially by mankind, and reveal knowledge to one nation and withhold it from another, and then damn them for not know- ing it. The sun shines an equal quantity of light all over the world—and mankind in all ages and countries are endued with reason, and blessed with sight, to read the visible works of God in the creation, and so intelligent is this book that he that runs may read. We admire the wisdom of the ancients, yet they had no bibles, nor books, called revelation. They cultivated the reason that God gave them, studied him in his works, and arose to eminence. As to the Bible, whether true or fabulous, it is a history, and history is not revelation. If Solomon had seven hundred wives, and three hundred concubines, and if Samson slept in Delilah’s lap, and she cut his hair off, the relation of those things is mere history, that needed no revelation from heaven to tell it; neither does it need any revelation to tell us that Samson was a fool for his pains, and Solomon too. As to the expressions so often used in the Bible, that the word of the Lord came to such an one, or such an one, it wasOF THE WORD RELIGION. 303 the fashion of speaking in those times, like the expression used by a Quaker, that the spirit moveth him, or that used by priests, that they have a call. We ought not to be deceived by phrases because they are ancient. But if we admit the supposition that God would condescend to reveal himself in words we ought not to believe it would be in such idle and profligate stories as are in the Bible, and it is for this reason, among others which our reverence to God inspires, that the Deists deny that the book called the Bible is the word of God, or that it is revealed religion. With respect to the term natwral religion, it is, upon thx face of it, the opposite of artificial religion, and it is impossibl: for any man to be certain that what is called revealed relrgioi is not artificial. Man has the power of making books, invent ing stories of God, and calling them revelation, or the word o God. The Koran exists as an instance that this can be done, and we must be credulous indeed to suppose that this is th: only instance, and Mahomet the only impostor. The Jew: could match him, and the church of Rome could overmatch th: Jews. The Mahometans believe the Koran, the Christians be lieve the Bible, and it is education makes all the difference. Books, whether Bibles or Korans, carry no evidence of being the work of any other power than man. It is only that which man cannot do that carries the evidence of being the work of a superior power. Man could not invent and make a universe— he could not invent nature, for nature is of divine origin. 7 i is the laws by which the universe is governed. When, there. fore, we look through nature up to nature’s God, we are in the right road of happiness, but when we trust to books as the word of God, and confide in them as revealed religion, we ar afloat on the ocean of uncertainty, and shatter into contending factions. ‘The term, therefore, natural religion, explains itself to be diwine religion, and the term revealed religion involves in it the suspicion of being artificial. To show the necessity of understanding the meaning of words, I will mention an instance of a minister, I believe of the Epis copalian church of Newark, in Jersey. He wrote and published a book, and entitled it, “An Antidote to Deism.” An antidote to Deism must be Atheism. It has no other antidote—for what can be an antidote to the belief of a God, but the disbelief of God. Under the tuition of such pastors, what but ignorance and false information can be expected. T.. P. S$RQACE Aa RSS Esa Kshs ed 234 Peete et tet See el stots dmbes ae a 8 A mises eee Poe SePererec ete e tare ba St | Sees tet PT Peres eee rt gets fs eret a Sesec elas raph tsd el aH OF CAIN AND ABEL, OF CAIN AND ABEL. Tue story of Cain and Abel is told in the fourth chapter of Genesis; Cain was the elder brother, and Abel the younger, and Cain killed Abel. The Egyptian story of Typhon and Osiris, and the Jewish story, in Genesis, of Cain and Abel, have the appearance of being the same story differently told, and that it came originally from Egypt. In the Egyptian story, Typhon and Osiris are brothers ; Yyphon is the elder, and Osiris the younger, and Typhon kills Osiris. The story is an allegory on darkness and light; Typhon, the elder brother, is darkness, because darkness was supposed to be more ancient than light; Osiris is the good light who rules during the summer months, and brings forth the fruits of the earth, and is the favorite, as Abel is said to have been, for which Typhon hates him ; and when the winter comes, and cold and darkness overspread the earth, Typhon is represented as having killed Osiris out of malice, as Cain is said to have killed Abel. The two stories are alike in their circumstances and their event, and are probably but the same story; what corroborates this opinion is that the fifth chapter of Genesis historically con- tradicts the reality of the story of Cain and Abel in the fourth chapter, for though the name of Seth, a son of Adam, is men- toned in the fourth chapter, he is spoken of in the fifth chapter as if he was the first born of Adam. The chapter begins cnusS —— “This is the book of the generations of Adam. In the day ‘hat Cod created man, in the likeness of God created he him. Male and female created he them, and blessed them, and called their name Adam in the day when they were created. And Adam lived an hundred and thirty years and begat a son, in his own likeness and after his own image, and called his name Seth.” The rest of the chapter goes on with the genealogy. Anybody reading this chapter, cannot suppose there were any sons born before Seth. The chapter begins with what isOF CAIN AND ABEL. 305 called the creation of Adam, and calls itself the book of the generations of Adam, yet no mention is made of such persons as Cain and Abel; one thing, however, is evident on the face of these two chapters, which is, that the same person is not the writer of both; the most blundering historian could not have committed himself in such a manner. Though I look on everything in the first ten chapters of Genesis to be fiction, yet fiction historically told should be con- sistent, whereas these two chapters are not. The Cainand Abel of Genesis appear to be no other than the ancient Egyptian story of Typhon and Osiris, the darkness and the light, which answered very well as an allegory without being believed as a fact. aE SE ee eS Pe ESP eter iC ec er artes Seen ee eS tee See Lae tek “@ *. ve 5) ry a - Saal el rs 7 Exgwarsye seebaeserhititepaetriiie geese cea hr THE TOWER OF BABEL, THE TOWER OF BABEL, cr Tue story of the tower of Babel is told in the eleventh It begins thus:—‘‘ And the whole earth chapter of Genesis. (it was but a very little part of 16 they knew) was of one 1age and or > » lang one speech.—And it came to pass as they ‘ourneyed from the east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar, and they dwelt there.—And they said one to another, Go to, let us make brick and burn them thoroughly, and they had brick for stone, and slime had they for mortar.—And they aid, go to, let us build a city, and a tower whose top may reach unto heaven, and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.—And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower which the children of men builded.__And the Lord said, behold the people is one, and they have all one language, and this they begin to do, and now nothing will be restrained from them which they have imagined to do.—Go to, let us go down and there confound their language, that they may not underst and one another’s speech.—So (that is, by that means) the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. ) ‘This is the story, and a very foolish inconsistent story it is. In the first place, the familiar and irreverent manner in which the Almighty is spoken of in this chapter, is offensive to a serious mind. As to the project of building a tower whose top should reach to heaven, there never could be a people so foolish as +o have such a notion; but to represent the Almighty as jealous of the attempt, as the writer of the story has done, is adding pro- fanation to folly. “Go to,” say the builders, “let us build usa tower whose top shall reach to heaven.” “Go to,” says God, “let us go down and confound their language.” This quaintness is indecent, and the reason given for it is worse, for, ‘‘now no- thing will be restrained from them which they have imagined to do.” This is representing the Almighty as jealous of their getting into heaven. The story is too ridiculous, even as a fable,THE TOWER OF BABEL. to account for the diversity of languages in the world, for which it seems to have been intended. As to the project of confounding their language for the pur- pose of making them separate, it is altogether inconsistent; be cause, instead of producing this effect, it would, by increasing their difficulties, render them more necessary to each other, and cause them to keep together. Where could they go to better themselves ? Another observation upon this story is, the inconsistency of it with respect to the opinion that the Bible is the word of God given for the information of mankind; for nothing could so ef- fectually prevent such a word being known by mankind as con- founding their language. The people, who after this spoke different languages, could no more understand such a word gen- erally, than the builders of Babel could understand one another. It would have been necessary, therefore, had such word eve been given or intended to be given, that the whole earth should be, as they say it was at first, of one language and of one speech, and that it should never have been confounded. The case, however, is, that the Bible will not bear exami- nation in any part of it, which it would do if it was the word of God. Those who most believe it are those who know least about it, and priests always take care to keep the inconsistent and contradictory parts out of sight. LT. E Ceti oe ct Crk ee here 2) SNGSHEHM See Foster secsegsasaezee+34i4 = Spires ty +ePeper ecesstetecice: aoe OF THE RELIGION OF DEISM, ETC, OF THE RELIGION OF DEISM COMPARED WITH THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION, AND THE SUPERIORITY OF THE FORMER OVER THE LATTER. ——__ Every person, of whatever religious denomination he may be, is a Durst in the first article of his creed. Deism, from the Latin word Deus, God, is the belief of a God, and this belief is the first article of every man’s creed. It is on this article, universally consented to by all mankind, that the Deist builds his church, and here he rests. Whenever we step aside from this article, by mixing it with articles of hu- man invention, we wander into a labyrinth of uncertainty and fable, and become exposed to every kind of imposition by pre- tenders to revelation. The Persian shows the Zendavesta of Zoroaster, the law-giver of Persia, and calls it the divine law; the Bramin shows the Shaster, revealed, he says, by God to Brama, and given to him out of a cloud; the Jew shows what he calls the law of Moses, given, he says, by God, on the Mount Sinai; the Christian shows a collection of books and epistles, written by nobody knows who, and called the New Testament ; and the Mahometan shows the Koran, given, he says, by God to Mahomet: each of these calls itself revealed religion, and the only true word of God, and this the followers of each profess to believe from the habit of education, and each believes the others are imposed upon. But when the divine gift of reason begins to expand itself in the mind and calls man to reflection, he then reads and contemplates God in his works, and not in the books pretend- ing to be revelation. The Creation is the Bible of the true believer in God. Everything in this vast volume inspires him with sublime ideas of the Creator. The little and paltry, and often obscene, tales of the bible sink into wretchedness when put in comparison with this mighty work. The Deist. needs none of those tricks and shows called miracles to confirm hisOF THE RELIGION OF DEISM, ETC. 309 faith, for what can be a greater miracle than the self, and his own existence, There is a happiness in Deism, when rightly understood, that is not to be found in any other system of religion, All other systems have some things in th reason, or are repugnant to it, and man, if he thinks at all, nust stifle his reason in order to force himself to believe them. But in Deism our reason and our belief become happily united. The wonderful structure of the universe, and every thing we behold in the system of the creation, prove to us, far better than books can do, the existence of a God, and at the same time proclaim his attributes, Tt is by the exercise of our rea. son that we are enabled to contemplate God in his works, em that either shock our and imitate him in his ways. When we see his care and goodness extended over all his creatures, it teaches us our duty towards each other, while it calls forth our gratitude to him. forgetting God in his works, and running after the books of pretended revelation that man has wandered from the straight path of duty and happiness, and become by turns the victim of doubt and the dupe of delusion, Except in the first article in the Christian creed, that of be- lieving in God, there is not an article in it but fills the mind with doubt, as to the truth of it, the instant man begins to think. _ Now every article in a creed that is necessary to the happiness and salvation of man, ought to be as evident to the reason and comprehension of man as the first article is, for God has not given us reason for the purpose of confounding us, but that we should use it for our own happiness and his glory. The truth of the first article is proved by God himself, and is universal; for the creation is of itself demonstration of the existence of a Creator. But the second article, begetting a son, is not proved in like m no other authority than that of a tale. é is called the New Testament tell us that Joseph dreamed that the angel told him go, (Matthew, chap. 1, ver. 20). “And beliold the Angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph, in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto th Mary thy wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost.” The evidence upon this article bears no com- parison with the evidence upon the first article, and, therefore is not entitled to the same credit, and ought not to be made an article in a creed, because the evidence of it is defective, and Ibis by that of God’s anner, and stands on vertain books in what 4 os SASSZRPALE gages se BR eS aes ideas te tre tee Sree be eet rte aes s, Pe ssat ay re . he sie ral et ER lates aes 310 OF THE RELIGION OF DEISM, ETC. is, is doubtful and suspicious. We do not on the authority of books, whether et on the visionary authority of dreams, but on the authority of God's own visible works in the creation. The nations who never heard of such books, nor of such people as Jews, Christians, or Mahometans, believe the existence of a God as fully as we do, because it is self- evident. The work of man’s hands is a proof of the existence noearance would be. When of man as, fully as his personal ap{ we see a watch, we have as positive evidence of the existence of a watch-maker, as if we saw him; and in like manner the ereation is evidence to our reason and-our senses of the exist- ence of a Creator. But there is nothing in the works of God that is evidence that he begat a son, nor any thing in the sys- tem of creation that corroborates such an idea, and, therefore, we are not authorized in believing it. But presumption can assume anything, and therefore it makes Joseph’s dream to be of equal authority with the ex- ‘stence of God, and to help it on calls it revelation. It is 1m- possible for the mind of man in its serious moments, however it may have been entangled by education, or beset by priest- craft, not to stand still and doubt upon the truth of this article and of its creed. But this is not all. The second article of the Christian creed having brought the son of Mary into the world (and this Mary, according to the chronological tables, was a girl of only fifteen years of age when this son was born), the next article goes on to account for his being begotten, which was, that when he grew a man he should be put to death, to expiate, they say, the sin that Adam brought into the world by eating an apple or some kind of forbidden fruit. But though this is the creed of the Church of Rome, from whence the protestants borrowed it, it is a creed which that church has manufactured of itself, for it is not contained in, nor derived from, the book called the New Testament. The four books called the Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, which give, or pretend to give, the birth, sayings, life, preaching and death of Jesus Christ, make no mention of what is called the fall of man; nor is the name of Adam,_to he found in any of those books, which it certainly would be € the writers of them believed that Jesus was begotten, born, and died for the purpose of redeeming mankind from the sin what evidence there believe the first article called Bibles or Korans, nor yOF THE RELIGION OF DEISM, KETC. ol] which Adam had brought into the world. Jesus never speaks of Adam himself, of the Garden of Eden, nor of what is called the fall of man. But the Church of Rome having set up its new religion which it called Christianity, and invented the creed which it named the apostle’s creed, in which it calls Jesus the only son of God, conceived by the Holy Ghost, and born of rhe Virgin Mary—things of which it is impossible that man or woman can have any idea, and consequently no belief but in words, and for which there is no authority but the idle story of Joseph’s dream in the first chapter of Matthew, which any designing impostor or foolish fanatic might make. It then manufactured the allegories in the book of Genesis into fact, and the allegorical tree of life and the tree of knowledge into real trees, contrary to the belief of the first christians, and for which there is not the least authority in any of the books of the New Testament; for in none of them is there any mention made of such place as the Garden of Eden, nor of any thing that is said to have happened there. But the Church of Rome could not erect the person called Jesus into a Saviour of the world without making the alle- gories in the book of Genesis into fact, though the New Testa- ment, as before observed, gives not authority for it. All at once the allegorical tree of knowledge became, acsording to > oO ; oO the church, a real tree, the fruit of it real fruit, and the eating of it sinful. As priestcraft was always the enemy of know- ledge, because priestcraft supports itself by keeping people in delusion and ignorance, it was consistent with its policy to make the acquisition of knowledge a real sin. The Church of Rome having done this, it then brings for- ward Jesus the son of Mary as suffering death to redeem man- kind from sin, which Adam, it says, had brought into the world by eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge. But as it is impossible for reason to believe such a story, because it can see no reason for it, nor have any evidence of it, the church then tells us we must not regard our reason, but must believe, as it were, and that through thick and thin, as if God had given man reason like a plaything, or a rattle, on purpose to make fun of him. Reason is the forbidden tree of priestcraft, and may serve to explain the allegory of the forbidden tree of knowledge, for we may reasonably suppose the allegory had some meaning and application at the time it was invented. It Eo ue E | fd oe et ee ee | ee ee ke Rese fede Fu asdeke, Bee hie ste ee eet cats eeSe vey ci eece Peer ee ee erersr’y| #3 Fs SRETTSE SIC ELELERES PU LOR ALES EA eee SC eSA SS DEAS Bd Be 312 OF THE RELIGION OF DEISM, ETC. was the practice of the eastern nations to convey their mean- ing by allegory, and relate it in the manner of fact. os esus followed the same method, yet nobody ever supposed the alle- gory or parable of the rich man and Lazarus, the prodigal son, the ten virgins, &c., were facts. Why then should the tree of knowledge, which ;s far more romantic in idea than the para- bles in the New Testament are, be supposed to be a real tree.* The answer to this is, because the church could not make its new fangled system, which it called Christianity, hold together without it. ‘fo have made Christ to die on account of an alle- gorical tree would have been too bare-faced a fable. But the account, as itis given of Jesus in the New Testament, even visionary as it is, does not support the creed of the church that he-died for the redemption of the world. According to that account he was crucified and buried on the Friday, and rose again in good health on the Sunday morning, for we do not hear that he was sick. This cannot be called dying, and is rather making fun of death than su ffering it. ‘There are thou- sands of men and women also, who if they could know they should come back again in good health in about thirty-six hours, would prefer such kind of death for the sake of experiment, and to know what the other side of the grave was. Why then should that which would be only a voyage of curious amusement to us be magnified into merit and suffering in him ? If a God he could not suffer death, for immortality cannot die, and as a man his death could be no more than the death of any other person. The belief of the redemption of Jesus Christ is altogether an invention of the Church of Rome, not the doctrine of the New Testament. What the writers of the New Testament attempted to prove by the story of Jesus is the resurrection of the same body from the grave, which was the belief of the Pharisees, in opposition to the Sadducees (a sect of Jews), who denied it. Paul, who was brought up a Pharisee, labors hard at this point, for it was the creed of his own Pharisaical church. .The 15th chap. of 1. Corinthians is full of supposed cases and assertions about the resurrection of the same body, but there is not a word in it about redemption. This chapter makes part of the *The remark of the Emperor Julian, on the story of The Tree of Know- ledge, is worth observing. ‘‘If,” saidhe, ‘‘there ever had been, or could be, a Tree of Knowledge, instead of God forbidding man to eat thereof, it would be that of which he would order him to eat the most.”OF THE RELIGION OF DEISM, ETC, : co — ew / funeral service of the Episcopal church. The dogma of the re- demption is the fable of priestcraft invented since the time the New Testament was compiled, and the agreeable delusion of it suited with the depravity of immoral livers. When men are taught to ascribe all their crimes and vices to the t mptations of the Devil, and to believe that Jesus, by his death, rubs all off and pays their passage to heaven gratis, they become as care- less in morals as a spendthrift would be of money, were he told that his father had engaged to pay off all his scores. Itisa doctrine, not only dangerous to morals in this world, but to our happiness in the next world, because it holds out such a cheap, easy, and lazy way of getting to heaven as has a tendency to induce men to hug the delusion of it to their own injury. But there are times when men have serious thoughts, and it is at such times, when they begin to think, that they begin to doubt the truth of the Christian Religion, and well they may, for it is too fanciful and too full of conjecture, inconsistency, improbability, and irrationality, to afford consolation to the thoughtful man. His reason revolts against his creed. He sees that none of its articles are proved, or can be proved. He may believe that such a person as is called Jesus (for Christ was not his name) was born and grew to be a man, because it is no more than a natural and probable case. But who is to prove he is the son of God, that he was begotten by the Holy Ghost? Of these things there can be no proof, and that which admits not of proof and is against the laws of probability, and the order of nature which God himself has established, is not an object for belief. God has not given man reason to em- barrass him, but to preve-his being imposed upon. He may believe that Jesus was crucified, because many others were crucified, but who is to prove he was crucified or the sins of the world? This article has no evidence, not even in the New Testament; and if it had, where is the proof that the New Testament, in relating things neither probable nor prove- able, is to be believed as true? When an article ina creed does not admit of proof nor of probability, the salve is to call it revelation; but this is only putting one difficulty in the place of another, for it is as impossible to prove a thing to be revela- tion as it is to prove that Mary was gotten with child by the Holy Ghost. Here it is that the religion of Deism is superior to the Chris- tian religion. It is free from all those invented and torturing ite CE h S Te reer ere ee Oe ek ee 7 - ert Se) SS See cea es het Tek oe Se an hE 8S hd td Pee Phe ES wilesDEISM, ol4 OF THE RELIGION OF articles that shock cur reason or injure our humanity, and with which the Christian religion abounds. Its creed is pure and sublimely simple. It believes in God and there it rests. It honors reason as the choicest gift of God to man, and the faculty by which he is enabled to contemplate the power, wis- dom and goodness of the Creator displayed in the creation; and reposing itself on his protection, both here and hereafter, it avoids all presumptuous belief, and rejects, as the fabulous in- ventions of men, all books pretending to revelation. LB: - Py 0365465345245 1=ses as? ie ce eth te —s Pa te Z ftLETTER TO SAMUEL ADAMS, LETTER TO SAMUEL ADAMS. ee My Dear anpD VENERABLE FRIEND, I RECEIVED with great pleasure your friendly and affection- ate letter of Nov. 30th, and I thank you also for the frankness of it. Between men in pursuit of truth, and whose object is the happiness of man both here and hereafter, there ought to be no reserve. . Even error has a claim to indulgence, if not to re- spect, when it is believed to be truth. I am obliged to you for your affectionate remembrance of what you style my services in awakening the public mind to a declaration of independence, and supporting it after it was declared. [I also, like you, have often looked back on those times, and have thought, that if in- dependence had not been declared at the time it was, the public mind could not have been brought up to it afterwards. It will immediately occur to you, who were so intimately acquainted with the situation of things at that time, that I allude to the black times of seventy-six, for though I know, and you my friend also know, they were no other than the natural conse- quences of the military blunders of that campaign, the country might have viewed them as proceeding from a natural inability to support its cause against the enemy, and have sunk under the despondency of that misconceived idea. This was the im. pression against which it was necessary the country should be strongly animated. I now come to the second part of your letter, on which I shall be as frank with you as youare withme. ‘“ But (say you) when I heard you had turned your mind to a defence of infidelity, I felt myself much astonished,” &c. What, my good friend, do you call believing in God infidelity? for that is the great point mentioned in the “ Age of Reason” against all divided beliefs and allegorical divinities. The Bishop of Llandaff (Dr. Watson) not only acknowledges this, but pays me some compli- ments upon it, in his answer to the second part of that work. ‘‘There is (says he) a philosophical sublimity in some of your ideas, when speaking of the Creator of the Universe.” Peet eh?) tees Sy - SSFALLLSZAZI ARE PGS ETH EGR Se sects Fo SsSehees ce sunassee+3s4i? Perera ree aesests etet eset Steere 316 LETTER TO SAMUEL ADAMS. What then (my much esteemed friend, for I do not respect you the less because we differ, and that perhaps not much, in religious sentiments), what, I ask, is the thing called infidelity % If we go back to your ancestors and mine, three or four hun- dred years ago, for we must have fathers and grandfathers or we should not have been here, we shall find them praying to saints and virgins, and believing in purgatory and transubstan- tiation ; and therefore, all of us are, infidels according to our forefather’s belief. If we go back to times more ancient we shall again be infidels according to the belief of some other forefathers. The case, my friend, is, that the world has been overrun with fable and creed of human invention, with sectaries of whole nations against other nations, and sectaries of those sectaries in each of them against each other. Every sectary, except the Quakers, have been persecutors. Those who fled from persecution, persecuted in their turn, and it is this con- fusion of creeds that has filled the world with persecution, and deluged it with blood. Even the depredation on your com- merce by the Barbary powers, sprang from the crusades of the church against those powers. It was a war of creed against creed, each boasting of God for its author, and reviling each other with the name of infidel. Tf I do not believe as you be- lieve, it proves that you do not believe as I believe, and this is all that 1t proves. There is, however, one point of union wherein all religions meet, and that is in the first article of every man’s creed, and of every nation’s creed, that has any creed at all, / believe in God. Those who rest here, and there are millions who do, can- not be wrong as far as their creed goes. ‘Those who choose to go further may be wrong, for it is impossible that all can be right, since there is so much contradiction among them. The first, therefore, are, in my opinion, on the safest side. I presume you are so far acquainted with ecclesiastical his- tory as to know, and the bishop who has answered me has been obliged to acknowledge the fact, that the Books that compose the New Testament, were voted by yeas and nays to be the Word of God, as you now vote a law, by the Popish Council of Nice and Laodicea, about fourteen hundred and fifty years ago. With respect to the fact there is no dispute, neither do I mention it for the sake of controversy. This vote may appear authority enough to some and not authority enough toLETTER TO SAMUEL ADAMS. O1F oi g others. It is proper, however, that everybody should know the fact. With respect to the “ Age of Reason,” which you so much condemn, and that, I believe, without having read it, for you say only that you heard of it, I will inform you of a circum- stance, because you cannot know it by other means. I have said in the first page of the first part of that work, that it had long been my intention to publish my thoughts upon religion, but that I had reserved it to a later time of life. I have now to inform you why I wrote it, and published it at the time I did. In the first place, I saw my life in continual danger. My friends were falling as fast as the guillotine could cut their heads off, and as I expected every day the same fate, I resolved to begin my work. I appeared to myself to be on my death bed, for death was on every side of me, and J had no time to lose. This accounts for my writing at the time I did, and so nicely did the time and intention meet, that I had not finished the first part of the work more than six hours before I was arrested and taken to prison. Joel Barlow was with me, and knows the fact. In the second place, the people of France were running head- long into atheism, and I had the work translated and published in their own language, to stop them in that career, and fix them to the first article (as I have before said) of every man’s creed, who has any creed at all, I believe in God. /1 endangered my own life, in the first place, by opposing in the Convention the executing of the king, and laboring to show they were trying the monarch and not the man, and that the crimes im- puted to him were the crimes of the monarchical system; and endangered it a second time by opposing atheism, and yet some of your priests, for I do not believe that all are perverse, cry out, in the war-whoop of monarchical priestcraft, what an infidel ! what a wicked man is Thomas Paine! They might as well add, for he believes in God, and is against shedding blood. But all this war-whoop of the pulpit has some concealed object. Religion is not the cause, but is the stalking-horse. They put it forward to conceal themselves behind it. It is not a secret that there has been a party composed of the leaders of the Federalists, for I do not include all Federalists with their leaders, who have been working by various means for several years past, to overturn the Federal Constitution established on PE te ee ks Sees 2 ee. he Be aT ote Ds pith 2+ it aabaabatin a, kg has ero PSeeee he neda Pererererst eres S rete Seer eteSis i sticdesbdd Peet EEL EL Shee CL Lea pa | ; eLETRI Lee - SSStTISS CVSS Tesi Et 23eh TEta ee tee 3 eee ete eet fii 318 LETTER TO SAMUEL ADAMS. the representative system, and place government in the new world on the corrupt system of the old. To accomplish this a large standing army was necessary, and as a pretence for such an army, the danger of a foreign invasion must be bellowed forth from the pulpit, from the press, and by their public orators. I am not of a disposition inclined to suspicion. It is in its nature a mean and cowardly passion, and upon the whole, even admitting error into the case, it is better, I am sure it is more generous, to be wrong on the side of confidence than on the side of suspicion. But I know as a fact, that the English Govern- ment distributes annually fifteen hundred pounds sterling among the Presbyterian ministers in England, and one hundred among those of Ireland;* and when I hear of the strange dis- courses of some of your ministers and professors of colleges I cannot, as the Quakers say, find freedom in my mind to acquit them. Their anti-revolutionary doctrines invite suspicion, even against one’s will, and in spite of one’s charity to believe well of them. As you have given me one Scripture phrase, I wil give you another for those ministers. It is said in Exodus, chapter xxil. verse 28, “Thou shalt not revile the gods, nor curse the ruler of thy people.” But those ministers, such I mean as Dr. Emmons, curse ruler and people both, for the majority are, politically, the people, and it is those who have chosen the ruler whom they curse. As to the first part of the verse, that of not reviling the gods, it makes no part of my Scripture: I have but one God. Since I began this letter, for I write it by piecemeals as I have leisure, I have seen the four letters that passed between you and John Adams. In your first letter you say, ‘“ Let divines and philosophers, statesmen and patriots, unite their endeavors to renovate the age, by inculcating in the minds of youth the fear and love of the Deity and universal philan- thropy.” Why, my dear friend, this is exactly my religion, and is the whole of it. That you may have an idea that the ‘“‘Age of Reason” (for I believe you have not read it) inculcates this reverential fear and love of the Deity, 1 will give youa paragraph from it. * There must undoubtedly be a very gross mistake in respect to the amount said to be expended; the sums intended to be expressed were prob- ably fifteen hundred thousand, and one hundred thousand pounds.—EDITOR.LETTER TO SAMUEL ADAMS. 319 “Do we want to contemplate his power? We see it in the immensity of the Creation. Do we want to contemplate his wisdom? We see it in the unchangeable order by which the incomprehensible whole is governed. Do we want to contem- plate his munificence? We see it in the abundance with which he fills the earth. Do we want to contemplate his mercy? We see it in his not withholding that abundance even from the unthankful.” As I am fully with you in your first part, that respecting the Deity, so am [ in your second, that of wnwwersal philan- thropy; by which I do not mean merely the sentimental bene- volence of wishing well, but the practical benevolence of doing good. We cannot serve the Deity in the manner we serve those who cannot do without that service. He needs no ser- vices from us. We can add nothing to eternity. But it is in our power to render a service acceptable to him, and that is, not by praying, but by endeavoring to make his creatures happy. A man does not serve God when he prays, for it is himself he is trying to serve; and as to hiring or paying men to pray, as if the Deity needed instruction, it is in my opinion an abomination. One good school-master is of more use and of more value than a load of such parsons as Dr. Emmons, and some others. You, my dear and much respected friend, are now far in the vale of years; I have yet, I believe, some years in store, for I have a good state of health and a happy mind; [I take care of both, by nourishing the first with temperance, and the latter with abundance. This I believe you will allow to be the true philosophy of life. You will see by my third letter to the citizens of the United States, that I have been exposed to, and preserved through many dangers; but, instead of buffeting the Deity with prayers. as if I distrusted him, or must dictate to him, J reposed myself on his protection; and you, my friend, will find, even in your last moments, more consolation in the silence of resignation than in the murmuring wish of prayer. In everything which you say in your second letter to John Adams, respecting our rights as men and citizens in this world, I am perfectly with you. On other points we have to answer to our Creator and not to each other. The key of heaven is not in the keeping of any sect, nor ought the road to it to be obstructed by any. Our relation to each other in this world ede ed ek ee ae | a teiasasgrsteri+4i tts Ete Sr Seccege + seesdeee ees eee POL ee leh320 LETTER TO SAMUEL ADAMS. = ertrstt tt tit) a is, as men, and the man who is a friend to man and to his rights, let his religious opinions be what they may, is a good citizen, to whom I can give, as I ought to do, and as every other ought, the right hand of fellowship, and to none with more hearty good will, my dear friend, than to you. + rs ee eer 2S 2 sacteretertiie bh) ba od hd Tuomas PAINE, Fgperat Crry, Jan. 1, 1803. eae ee Per eeoe Serssstssiss ’ cs " * ° Py oe oe 4LETTER TO MR. DEAN, EXTRACT FROM A LETTER TO ANDREW A. DEAN.* Se ee RESPECTED FRIEND, I RECEIVED your friendly letter, for which T am obliged to you. Itis three weeks ago to-day (Sunday, Aug, 15), that I was struck with a fit of an apoplexy, that deprived me of al] sense and motion. I had neither pulse nor breathing, and the people about me supposed me dead. I had felt exceedingly well that day, and had Just taken a slice of bread and butter, for supper, and was going to bed. The fit took me on the the stairs, as suddenly as if I had been shot through the head ; and I got so very much hurt by the fall, that I have not been able to get in and out of bed since that day, otherwise than being lifted out in a blanket, by two persons ; yet all this while my mental faculties have remained as perfect as L ever enjoyed them. I consider the scene I have passed through as an ex- periment on dying, and I find that death has no terrors for me. As to the people called Christians, they have no evidence that their religion is true.t There is no more proof that the Bibie is the word of God, than that the Koran of Mahomet is the word of God. It is education makes all the difference. Man, before he begins to think for himself, is as much the child of habit in Creeds as he is in ploughing and sowing. like opinions, prove nothing, Where is the evidence that the person called Je the begotten Son of God 2 Yet creeds, sus Christ is The case admits not of evidence * Mr. Dean rented Mr. Paine’s farm at New Rochelle. + Mr. Paine’s entering upon the subject of religion on this occasion, it may be presumed, was occasioned by the following passage in Mr. Dean’s letter to him, viz. : “*T have read with good attention your manuscript on dreams, and ex: amination of the prophecies in the Bible. Iam now searching the old pro- phecies, and comparing the same to those said to be quoted in the New Testament. I confess the comparison is a matter worthy of our serious at- tention ; I ki:ow not the result till I finish ; then if you be living, I shall communicate the same to you; I hope to be with you soon.” 21 eter hec ter. as os Pe Bd eee ek he ee als err ee er 4 >> bag St rad os eee tteec esSees eric ied. ea ate sa a 322, LETTER TO MR. DEAN. either to our senses or our mental faculties: neither has God given to man any talent by which such a thing is comprehen- sible. Tt cannot therefore be an object for faith to act upon, for faith is nothing more than an assent the mind gives to something it sees cause to believe is fact. But priests, preach- ars, and fanatics, put imagination in the place of faith, and it ‘s the nature of the imagination to believe without evidence. If Joseph the carpenter dreamed (as the book of Matthew, chap. Ist, says he did), that his betrothed wife, Mary, was with child, by the Holy Ghost, and that an angel told him so, I am not obliged to put faith in his dream, nor do I put any, for I put no faith in my own dreams, and I should be weak and foolish indeed to put faith in the dreams ctf others. The Christian religion is derogatory to the Creator in all its articles. It puts the Creator in an inferior point of view, and places the Christian Devil above him. It is he, according to the absurd story in Genesis, that outwits the Creator in the garden of Eden, and steals from him his favorite creature, man, and, at last, obliges him to beget a son, and put that son to death, to get man back again, and this the priests of the Chris- tian religion call redemption. Christian authors exclaim against the practice of offering up human sacrifices, which, they say, is done in some countries ; and those authors make those exclamations without ever reflect- ing that their own doctrine of salvation is founded on a human sacrifice. They are saved, they say, by the blood of Christ. The Christian religion begins with a dream and ends with a murder. As I am now well enough to sit up some hours in the day, though not well enough to get up without help, I employ my- self as I have always done, in endeavouring to bring man to the right use of the reason that God has given him, and to direct his mind immediately to his Creator, and not to fanciful second- ary beings called mediators, as if God was superannuated or ferocious. As to the book called the Bible, is it blasphemy to call it the word ofGod. Itisa book of lies and contradiction, and a history of bad times and bad men. ‘There is but a few good characters in the whole book. The fable of Christ and his twelve apostles, which is a parody on the sun and the twelve signs of Zodiac, copied from the ancient religions of the eastern world, is the least hurtful part. Everything told of Christ has reference toLETTER TO MR. DEAN. Soo the sun. His reported resurrection is at sunrise, and that on the first day of the week ; that is, on the day anciently dedica- ted to the sun, and from thence called Sunday ; in latin Dies Solis, the day of the Sun; as the next day, Monday, is Moon- day. But there is no room in a letter to explain these things While man keeps to the belief of one ( tod, his reason unites with his creed. He is not shocked with contradictions and horrid stories. His bible is the heavens and the earth. He beholds his Creator in all his works, and every thing he beholds inspires him with reverence and gratitude. From the good ness of God to all, he learns his duty to his fellow man, stands self-reproved when he transgresses it. persecutor. , and Cat ae ee Such aman is no But when he multiplies his creed with imaginary things, of which he can have neither evidence nor conception, such as the tale of the garden of Eden, the talking serpent, the fall of man. the dreams of Joseph the carpenter, the pretended resurrection and ascension, of which there is even no historical] relation, for no historian of those times mentions such a thing, he gets into the pathless region of confusion, and turns either frantic o1 hypocrite. He forces his mind, and pretends to believe what he does not believe. This is in general the case with the Metho- dists. Their religion is all creed and no morals. I have now my friend given you a fac smile of my mind on the subject of religion and creeds, and my wish is, that you make this letter as publicly known as you find opportunities of doing. Yours, in friendship, Tuomas Paine. N. Y., Aug. 1806, eheL et eT Lite ere sete te eee ess Pere re SiSsusgrreg+2+44* are = me: be ks hed toeee coe ELE SB eesPUORTIIOAL Wee Ks OF eLetet ey elles kee cee ee yh ee ees rhe e po b A pes ry ad ' oi) : * FR “YW mrrm ‘tt FT mn > ; 1 ATTY Any Y . > Cr, 7 LL A~~ HW LOVER Of THE WECLARA LION Of} | XY 1) -ENDEN( tt, OECRE » U UC OREIGN a : , ‘ 2 AFFAIRS UNDER TH] “IRS AMERICAN Con S ND Vi R ~ mr 7 ta ree TAY (N AY nn y OF THE NATIONAL UONVENTION I ks cheers Be ae Sete s PS POE 5 Tes S50 te mie Wiad fey mae wore “The world ts mk conutry 5, to Go\gded day vetleton = CHICAGO AND TORONTO: SELFORDS, CLARKE & CO, PUBLISHERS MDCCCUX XTX XL.COMMON SENSE: ADDRESSED TO THE INHABITANTS OF AMERICA, ON THE FOLLOWING INTERESTING SUBJECTS, VIZ.: lL. -Or THE ORIGIN AND Desiqn OF GOVERNMENT IN GENERAL, WITH CONCISE REMARKS ON THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION. {I1.—Or Monarcuy ann HeErepirary 91 CCESSION, ([I1{.—THoucuts oF THE PRESEN? Sr ATE OF AMERICAN AFFAIRS. IV.—Or THE PRESENT ABILITY OF AMERICA, WITH SOME MISCELLANEOUS REFLECTIONS. To WHICH IS ADDED AN APPENDIX. **Man knows no matter save creating heaver n, Or those whom choice and common good ordain THOMSON rare yer lee rere a1 Parit ft a Peery Pe RS td eee ee td sees ieee ss rsiresretett tise 3 fers > oes ae, Peete Re eel eis t see te: iy ro, FS an b pet et a ™ eis 5% — ) trax ra PUBLISHER'S INTRODUCTION. “Have you seen the pamphlet, ‘Common Sense ??” asked | Major General Lee, in a letter to Washington ; “I never saw | such a masterly, irresistible performance. It will, if I mistake } not. in concurrence with the transcendent folly and wickedness e ‘ 5 ; 7 4 ty) ; >* 22 ro (x 209 T 2 ay +< ; > of the ministry, give the couwp-de-grace to Great Britain. In short, | own myself ced by the arguments, of the neces- sitv of separation.’ General Washington, in a letter to Joseph Reed, Jan. 31, Ti avs: “A few more such flaming arguments aS were ex- Ags 6, SAYS . rh ES ¥ i SU ] i hibited at Falmouth and Norfolk, added tojthd seund doctrine and unanswerable reasoning contained in the pamphlet ‘ Com- se, swill not leave numbers at a loss to decide on the mon Wen li me ay . a3 proprievy OL a Separation. Phat book” (Common Sense), says Dr. Rush, “burst forth from the press with an effect that has been rarely produced }y 3 types and paper, in any age or country.INTRODUCTION, Prryaprs the sentiments contained in the following not yet sufficiently fashionable to procure them general favor ; along habit of not th inking a thing wrong, gives it a superfi cial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defence of custom. But the tumult soon subsides. Time makes more converts than reason. As a long and violent abuse of pows Yr 18 generally the meang of calling the:right of it in question, (and in matters too which might never have been thoucht of, had not the sufferers beer aggravated into the Inquiry,) and as the King of England hath undertaken in his OWN right, LO Support the parlament in what l he calls thers, and as the good people of this count ‘y are griey- ously oppressed by the combination, they have an undoubted privilege to inquire into the pretensions of both, and equally to reject the usurpations of either. In the following sheets, the author hath studiously avoided everything which is personal among ourselves. Compliments as well as censure to individuals make no part thereof. The wise and the worthy need not the triumph of a pamphlet ; and those whose sentiments are injudicious or unfriendly, will cease of themselves, unless too much pains is bestowed upon their conversion. The cause of America is, in a great measure, the cause of all mankind. Many circumstances have. and will arise, which are pages, are | | rs fe SERED bad tak herds sot dae Pee Peer eh eee Tite ee oe eerie ter Peet oe 5 seers eae ee Re ers SP stants Should a thought so fatal or unmanly possess the my time.’ present contest, the name of ancestors will be colonies in the remembered by future generations with detestation. The sun never shone on a cause of greater worth. the affair of a city, a county, a province, or a kinedom, but of a continent—of at least one-eighth part of the habitable globe. "Tis notCOMMON SENSE. 21 ‘Tis not the concern of a day, a year, virtually involved in the contest, affected even to the end of time. is the seed-time of continental] least fracture now will be like or an age; posterity are and will be more or less by the proceedings now. Now inion, faith and honor. The a name engraved with the point of a pin on the tender rind of a young oak ; the wound will enlarge with the tree, and posterity read it in full grown char- acters. By referring the matter from argument to arms, a new area for politics is struck ; a new method of thinking hath arisen. All plans, proposals, ete., prior to the nineteenth of April, i.e., to the commencement of hostilities, are like the almanacs of last year; which, though proper then, are superseded and use- less now. Whatever was advanced by the advocates on either side of the question then, terminated in one and the same point, viz., 2 union with Great Britain - the only difference between the parties was the method of effecting it; the one proposing force, the other friendship ; but it hath so far happened that the first has failed, and the second has withdrawn her influence. As much hath been said of the advantages of reconciliation, which, like an agreeable dream. } y re | e — = 17 ma - ‘ lath passed away and left us as . : } S 1 4 i eS ble ose tra pry we were, it is but right that we snould examune the contrary side of the argument, and inquire into some of the many material Injurles Whicn these colonies sustain. and al] ey will sustain, by being connected with and dependent on Great Britain. To examine that connection and dependence, on the principles of nature and common sense, to see what we have to 3 ‘p 7 | -'0 | eVie wea iheece: trust to, it separated. and what we are LOV-EX PECL TE Gi pendent. 1 2 . } rT L a Se ee a . I have heard it asserted hy some that as America has flour- ished under her former connexion with Great Britain, the same : : PP a 4 V7) FY eens: rity connexion 18 hecessary towards her future happiness, and will alwavs have the same effect. Nothing can be more tallacious : : . 2 ¥ tr cae ot Hhe - | leg ‘ than this kind ofargument. We may as wellassert that because a child has thrived upon milk, that it is never to have reat, 01 that the first twenty years of our lives is to become a precedent for the next twenty. But even this is admitting more than is true, for I answer roundly, that America would have flourished as much, and probably much more, had no European power had any thing to do with her. The articles of commerce, by which she has enriched herself, are the necessaries of life, and will always have a market while eating is the custom of Eu rope. But she has protected us, say some. That she hath engrossed PREP sd ehri cessteedii sss Reha ee st | siseas ie ite tS et eee ae Se | orate dbaheuass tt eter eee eer ate Agererriede SpesereTt22 COMMON SENSE us is true, and defended the continent at our expense as well as her own, is admitted, and she would have defended Turkey from the same motives, viz., for the sake of trade and dominion. Alas! we have been long led away by ancient prejudices, and made large sacrifices to superstition. We have boasted the protection of Great Britain, without considering that her motive was interest. not attachment ; and that she did not protect us from our enemies on our account, but from her enemies on her own account, from those who had no quarrel with us on any other account, and who will always be our enemies on the same account. Let Britain waive her pretentions to the continent, or the continent throw off the dependence, and we should be at peace with France and Spain, were they at war with Britain. The miseries of Hanover last war ought to warn us against connexions. It hath lately been asserted in parliament, that the colonies have no relation to each other but through the parent country, i.e., that Pennsylvania and the Jerseys, and so on for the rest, are sister colonies by way of England ; that is certainly a very round-about way of proving rel: ationship, but it is the nearest and only true way of proving enemyship, if 1 may so call it. France and Spain never were, nor perhaps ever will be. our enemies as Americans, but as our being the swbjects of Great Britawm. But Britain is the parent country say some. Then the more } shame upon her conduct. Even ‘brutes do not devour their young, nor savages make war upon their families; whereiore, the assertion, if true, turns to her reproach; but it happens not to be true, or only partly so, and the phrase parent or mother ae and his = uniry hath been jesuitically adopted by the | | vith a low papistical design of gaining an unfair bias m the credulous weakness of our minds. Euro} pe, ) not England, is the parent country of America. This new world be une asylum for the persecuted lovers of civil and eligious liberty from every part of Europe. Hither have they fled, not from the tender embraces of 1 the mothe r, but from the cruelty of the monster; and it is so far true of England, that the same tyranny which drove the first emigrants from home, pursues their descendants still. In this extensive quarter of the globe, we forget the narrow limits of three hundred and sixty miles (the extent of England), and carry our friendship on a larger scale; we claim brother-COMMON SENSE, 23 hood with every European Chr erosity of the sentiment. It is pleasant to observe with what regular eradations we surmount local prejudices, as we enlarge our acquaintance with the world. A man born in any town in England divided into parishes, will naturally associate with most of his fellow parish- loners (because their interest in many cases will be common), and distinguish him by the name of neighbor; if he meet him but afew miles from home, he drops the narrow idea of a street, and salutes him by the name of townsman ; if he travel out of the county, and meet him in any other, he forgets the minor divisons of street and town, and calls him countryman, i.e., countyman,; but if in their foreign excursions they should associ- ate in France or any other part of Hurope, their loc brance would be enlarged into that of Engli Just parity of reasoning, all Europeans mee any other quarter of the globe, are cou Holland, Germany, or Sweden, whe stand in the same places on the larger scale, which the divisions of street, town, and county do on the smaller one: distinctions too limited for continental minds. Not one third of the in- habitants, even of this province, are of English descent. Where- fore, I reprobate the phrase of parent or mother ceuntry, applied to England only, as being false, selfish, narrow and ungenerous. istian, and triumph in the gen- al remem- shman. And bya ting in America, or nirymen ; for England, nh compared with the whole, But, admitting that we were it amount to? Nothing. Britain being now an open enemy, extinguishes every other name and title ; and to say that recon- ciliation is our duty, is truly farcical. The first king of England, of the present line (William the Conqueror) was a‘ Frenchman. and half the peers of England are descendants from the same country ; wherefore, by the same method of reasoning, England ought to be governed by France. all of English descent, what does Much hath been said of the united strength of Britain and the colonies, that in conjunction they might bid defiance to the world. But this is mere presumption; the fate of war is un- certain, neither do the expressions mean anything ; for this continent would never suffer itself to be drained of inhabitants to support the British armsin either Asia, Africa, or Europe. Besides, what have we to do with setting the world at defi- ance? Our plan is commerce, and that, well attended to, will secure us the peace and frendship of all Europe ; because it is y eet ee ee Ct ee oe ee eee ee eee Pere eh Stesert 33 Terr yr eet ee te eS Aero ge ieee eee eee es aTh] 24 COMMON SENSE. the interest of all Europe to have America a free port. Her trade will always be a protection, and her barrenness of gold and silver secure her from invaders. I challenge the warmest advocate for reconcilation to show a single advantage that this continent can reap by being con- nected with Gr eat Britain. I repeat the challenge ; not a ‘single advantage is derived. Our corn will fetch its price im any market in Europe, and our imported goods must be paid for, buy them where we will. But the injuries and disadvantages which we sustain by ny connexion are without number ; and our duty to mankind a large, as well as to ourselves, instructs us to renounce the alliance ; because, any submission to or dependence on Great Britain, tends directly to involve this continent in European wars and quarrels ; and sets us at variance with nations, who would otherwise seek our friends = and against whom we have neither anger nor complaint. As E irope is our market for trade, we ought to form no partial connexion with any part of it. It is the true interest of America to ste . clear of European contentions, which she never can do, while, by her depe ndence on Britain, she is made the make-weight in - scale of British poli tics. Eurepe is too thickly planted with kingdoms to be long at peace, and whenever a war breaks out between England and any foreign power _ the trade of America goes to ruin, because of her connexrton Ww ith Britain. The next war may not turn out like the last, and should it not, the advocates for reconciliation now will be wishing for separation then, because, neutrality in that case, would be a safer convoy than a man of war. Every thing that is right or natural pleads for separation. The blood of the slain, the weeping voice of nature cries, "tis time to part. Even the distance at which the Almighty hath placed England and America, is a strong and natural proof that the authority f the one over the other was never the design of heaven. The time likewise at which the continent was discovered adds weight to the argument, and the manner in which it was peopled ‘in- creases the force of it. The reformation was preceded by the discovery of America, as if the Almighty graciously meant to open a sanctuary to the persecuted in future years, when home should afford neither friendship nor safety. The authority of Great Britain over this continent, is a form of government which sooner or later must have an end: and aCOMMON SENSE, 25 serious mind can draw no true pleasure by looking forward under the painful and positive conviction, that what he calls “the present constitution,” is merely temporary. Ag parents, we can have no joy, knowing that this government is not sufficiently lasting to ensure anything which we may bequeath to posterity ; and by a plain method of argument, as we are runnin generation into debt, we ought to do the work of it, we use them meanly and pitifully. line of our duty rightly, we should hand, and fix our station a few years farther into life ; that eminence will present a prospect which a few present fears and prejudices conceal from our sight. Though I would carefully avoid iy Ing unnecessary offence, yet I am inclined to believe, that all those who espouse the doc- trine of reconciliation may be included within the tollowing descriptions. Interested men, who are not to be trusted ; weak men who cannot see; prejudiced men, who wil] not see ; of moderate men, who think better of the Huropean world than it deserves ; and this last class by an ill will be the cause of more calamities to t] the other three. It is the good fortune of ma ny to live distant from the scene of sorrow ; the evil is not sufficiently brought to thei; doors to make them feel the precariousness with which al] property is possessed. But let our imaginations transport us a few moments to Boston ; that seat of wretchedness will teach us wisdom, and instruct us forever to renounce a power in whom we can have no trust. The inhabitants of that unfortunate city, who but a few months ago were in ease and affluence, have now no other alternative than to stay and starve, or turn out to beg. Endangered by the fire of their friend within the city, and plund In their present situation g the next otherwise In order to discover the | take our children in our andj a certain set Judged deliberation. us continent than all American s if they continue ered by the soldiery if they leave it. they are prisoners without the hope of redemption, and in a general attack for their relief, they would be exposed to the fury of both armies. Men of passive tempers look somewhat lightly over the offences of Britain, and still hoping for the best, are apt to call out. “come, come, we shall be Jrvends again, for all this.” But examine the passions and feelings of mankind, bring the doc- trine of reconciliation to the touchstone of nature, and then tel] me whether you can hereafter love. honor, and faithfully serve RSS ES Sy Sire eet CL ETS Eee! oth ee ek bl a hes sos esteres ert soregieeeeee ier rere +5 ot oe eo CRG Ren a oa 26 COMMON SENSE, the power that hath carried fire and sword into your land? If vou cannot do all these, then are you only deceiving yourselves, and by your delay bringing ruin upon your posterity. Your future connexion with Britain, whom you can neither love nor honor, will be forced and unnatural, and being formed only on the plan of present convenience, will in a little time fall into a relapse more wretched than the first. But if you say you can still pass the violations over, then I ask, hath your house been burnt? Hath your property been destroyed before your face ! Are your wife and children destitute of a bed to lie on, or bread to live on? Have you lost a parent or a child by their hands, and yourself the ruined and wretched survivor? If you have not, then are you not a judge of those who have? But if you have, and can still shake hands with the murderers, then ere you unworthy the name of husband, father, friend, or lover, and whatever may be your rank or title in life, you have the heart of a coward and the spirit of a sycophant. This is not inflaming or exaggerating matters, but trying them by those feelings and affections which nature justifies, and without which we should be incapable of discharging the social duties of life, or enjoying the felicities of it. 1 mean not to exhibit horror for the purpose of provoking revenge, but to awaken us from fatal and unmanly slumbers, that we may pur sue determinately some fixed object. It is not in the power of Britain or of Europe to conquer America, if she does not con- quer herself by delay and timidity. The present wintec is worth an age if rightly employed, but if lost or neglected the whole continent will partake of the misfortune; and there is no punishment which that man will not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so precious and useful. It is repugnant to reason, and the universal order of things, to all examples from former ages, to suppose that this continent can longer remain subject to any external power. ‘The most sanguine in Britain do not think so. The utmost stretch of human wisdom cannot, at this time, compass a plan short of separation, which can promise the continent even a year’s security. Reconciliation is now a fallacious dream. Nature hath deserted the connexion, and art cannot supply her place. For, as Milton. wisely expresses, “never can true reconcile ment grow, where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.”COMMON SENSE. QF Every quiet method for peace has been ineffectual. Our pray- ers have been rejected with disdain ; and only tended to con- vince us that nothing flatters vanity, or confirms obstinacy in kings more than repeated petitioning—nothing hath contributed more than this very measure to make the kings of Europe abso- lute: witness Denmark and Sweden. Wherefore, since nothing but blows will do, for God’s sake let us cowne to a final separa- tion, and not leave the next generation to be cutting throats, under the violated, unmeaning names of parent: and child. To say they will never attempt it again is idle and visionarv we thought so at the repeal of the stamp act, yet a year or two undeceived us: as well may we suppose that nations, which have been once defeated will never renew the quarrel, As to government matters, it is not in the power of Britain to do this continent justice: the business of it will soon be too weighty and intricate to be managed with any tolerable degree of convenience, by a power so distant from us and so very ignorant of us ; for if they cannot conquer us they cannot goy- ern us. ‘To be always running three or four thousand miles with a tale or petition, waiting four or five months for an answer, which, when obtained, requires five or six more to explain it in, will in a few years be looked upon, as folly and childishness—there was a time when it was proper, and there is « proper time for it to cease. Small islands, not capable of protecting themselves, are the proper objects for kings to take under their care; but there is something absurd, in supposing a continent to be perpetually governed by an island. In no instance hath nature made the satellite larger than its primary planet ; and as England and America, with respect to each other, reverse the common order of nature, it is evident that they belong to different systems - England to Europe—America to itself. I am not induced by motives of pride, party, or resentment, to espouse the doctrine of separation and independence; I am clearly, positively, and conscientiously persuaded that it is the true interest of this continent to be so; that everything short of that is mere patchwork; that it can afford no lasting felicity —that it is leaving the swerd to our children, and shrinking back ata time, when going a little further would have rendered this continent the glory of the earth. As Britain hath not manifested the least inclination towards a compromise, we may be assured that no terms can be obtained ibd tole St ere ee ee en ote ee oa PERLE sects esse com &) cs sEsSSReriyersrs Tel bseees Cite ee taht dd etter at Ty 25 COMMON SENSE. worthy the acceptance of the continent, or any ways equal to the expense of blood and, treasure we have been already put to. The object contended for ought always to bear some just pro- portion to the expense. The removal of North, or the whole detestable junto, is a matter unworthy the millions we have expended. A temporary stoppage of trade was an inconvenl- ld have sufficiently balanced the repeal of all the acts complained of, had such repeals been obtained ; but if the I . pu ing: No man was a2 warmer wishe r for a reconc lation than mvself, before the fatal nineteenth of April, 1775,* but the moment the event of that day was made known, I rejected the hardened, sullen-tempered Pharaoh of England forever ; and disdain the wretch, that with the pretended title of Father of his people, can unfeelingly hear of their slaughter, and compos- edly sleep with their blood upon his soul. But admitting that matters were now made up, what would be the event? I answer, the ruin of the continent. And that for several reasons. lst, The powers of governing still remaining in the hands of the king, he will have a negative over the whole legislation of this continent. And as he hath shown himself such an in- veterate enemy to liberty, and discovered such a thirst for arbitrary power : 1s he, or is he not, a proper person to say to these colonies, .“‘ you shall make no laws but what I please ?” And is there any inhabitant of America so ignorant as not to know, that according to what is called the present constitution, this continent can make no laws but what the king gives leave to? and is there any man so unwise as not to see, that (con- * Massacre at Lexington.sidering what has happened) he will suffer no law to be made here, but such as suits Ais purpose? We may beas effectually enslaved by the want of laws in America, as by submitting to laws made for usin Fy igland. After matters ar em it is called) can there be any doubt, but the whole power of the crown will be exerted to kee p this continent as low and } ae Aiea possible? Instead of going forward we shal] go back- ward, or be perpetually quarre lling, or ridiculously pe titionin 1. We are already greater than the king wishes us to be, and will he not hereafter endeavor to make us less bo oes} oring the mat- alous of our prosperity, W hoever says Vo to this ques- ace up (as ter to one point,—Is the power who is je: ‘ Wy, ay TAY TO oO % proper power to gover h us f tion, 1S an independent, tor independeney means no more than this, whether we shall make our UU own laws, or, whether the king, the ereatest en my which this continent hath, or can have, shall tell US, there shall be 720 law S but such as L LvkKe But the king, you will] Say, pas a negative in Eneland: the peopie there can make no laws vw Itnout NIS consent. An point of right and good order, it is something very ridiculous, that a 1 of ee (which hath often h uppened) shall say to several millions of people, older and wiser than himself, I for- id this or as act of yours to be law. But j thi lace J Helene this sort of Eeply, though. 1 will nevar cease to expose the absurdity of it: and only answer, that England beings th king’s residence, and America not, makes quite’ another. case. The king’s negative here is ten times more dangerous and fata] han it can oS 1n England ; tor there he will scarcely refuse his consent to a bill for putting vane into as strong a state of defence as ae a in America he would never suffer such a bill to be passed. America is on ily a secondary o!} ject in the system of British ee ingls nd consults the eood of this country no further then it answers her own purpose. hs herefore, her own in- terest leads her to suppress the crowth of owrs in eve ry case which doth not promote hei advant: 1@e, Or in the least inte rieres With ibe. x pretty state we should soon be in under a second- hand government, considering what has h: appei .ed! Men do not change from enemies to friends. by the alteration of a name: and in order to show that re conciliation now is a dangerous doc trine, I affirm, that it would be policy in the king at this vim to repeal the acts, for oo sake of reinstating himself in the yovern- ment of the Whar: 2s, in or der that he may accomplish by eve COMMON SENSE. 29 Pe ererre tier Pes Cet eR be 2 iat tber reper tects ergs othe Ter hee rere se pee ker tte Sree ee ried terete ieee CUS ER Epes Peet rh ek es Phe ke eek t ioe eeeas3t tr ere ov ry re e735 — e Ex = = COMMON SENSE and subtlety, in the long run, what he cannot do by force in the short one. Reconciliation and ruin are nearly related. 9nd, That as even the best terms, which we can expect to obtain, can amount to no more than .a temporary expedient, or a kind of government by ouardianship, which can last no longer than till the colonies come of age, of things, in the interim, will be unsettled and unpromising. Emigrants of property will not choose to come to a country whose form of government hangs but by a thread, and which ¢ so the general face and state on the brink of commotion and disturb ance: and numbers of the present inhabitants would lay hold of the interval to dispose of their effects, and quit the continent. But the most powerful of all arguments, is, that nothing but DU independence, ie., a continental form of government, can keep = eee an oy is every aay tovtering A (e } - . - 5 c ae . the peace of the continent and preserve it inviolate from civ wars. I dread the event of a reconciliation with Britain now, as it is more than probable that it will be followed by a revolt i e vy area that oppose independence now, ye know not what ye do; ye are opening a door to eternal tyranny, by keeping vacant the seat CU : ape i erp AG ox government. There are thousands, and tens of thousands, who would think it glorious to expel from the continent, that barbarous and hellish power, which hath stirred up the Indians and negroes to destroy us—the cruelty hath a double guilt, it is dealing brutally by us, and treacherously by them. 2 - hte d a ket bee ae | 3 poet te eee es ere es eS edsesese = i ns a ER CEs td | TITEIPLE SRE saveeseesee eter ens ry i SI Soe STS COMMON SENSE. pe whom our reason for “bids rough a thou- tI i To talk of friendship with those 10 us to have faith ae our affections, wounded tl test, is mi ,0ness and folly. of kindred between us ea _instruct . to detes wvery that as the rel sand pores day wears out the “ele remains ‘hem: and can there be any reason to hope, tionship expires, the affection will mcrease, or that we Hee n times more and greater concerns sree better when we have ten to quarrel over than ever t Ye that tell f harmony and recone iliation, can ye restore to us the ti bis past ! Can ye g} ve to] prostitution its for- mer innot Neither can ye recon jle Britain and America. The last cor is broken, “the peop ae of Eng} and are pre- senting addresses against us. There are injuries which nature cannot pac she would cease to be nature if she did. As her of his n oY as the cell can the lover forgive the rav isk re . : Ete ID) - 1 continent forgive the murders of Britain. The Almighty r hath imp lanted within us these une xtl ng us! hable feelings, for good -e the guardians of his image in our and wi peer ones They are t ey nd distinguish us from the herd of common animals. The | il compact would « ke >, and justice be extirpated from the earth, or have only a casui 11 existence were we callous to the touches of affection. The robber, and the murderer would often ae unpunished, did not the injuries which our tempers sustain, prov oke us into justice. O! ye that ie e mank ind ! Ye that dare a not only the tyranny, but the tyrant, stand forth | Every spot of the old world is overrun with oppress! ion. Pisaiand hath been hunted round the globe. Asia, and Africa, have long > ee lled : her like a stranger, and Eng land hath her. Europe regards ne} given her warning to depart. O! receive the fugitive, and } pare in time an asylum for mankind. 4 pore- ON THE PRESENT ABILITY OF AMERICA. WITH SOME MISCELLANEOUS REF LECTION I HAVE never met with a man, either in England or America, who hath not confessed his opinion, that a separation between the countries would take place one time or other ; and there *3 no instance, in which we have shown less judgment, than in endeavoring to describe, what we call, the ripeness or fitness of the sieanieate for independence. 6COMMON SENSE. 3H As all men allow the measure, and vary only in their opinion of the time, let us in order to remove mistakes, take things, and endeavor, if possible, to fi need not go far, the inquiry c The general concurrence, the g & general survey of nd out the very time, But we eases at once, for the time hath found us. lorious union of all things proves the fact. It: isnot in numbers, but in unity, that our great strength lies; yet our present numbers are sufficient to repel the force of all the world. The continent hath at this time, the largest body of armed and disciplined men of any power und and is just arrived at that pitch of strength, in which, no single colony is able to support itself, and the whole, when united, can accomplish the matter, and either more, or less than this, might be fatal in its effects. Our land force is already sufficient, and aS to naval affairs, we cannot be insensible that Britain would never suffer an American man-of-war to_be. built while the con- tinent remained in her hands. Wherefore, we should be no forwarder an hundred years hence in that branch, than we are now; but the truth is, we should be less so, because the timber of the country is every day diminishing, and that which will remain at last, will be far off or difficult to procure, Were the continent crowded with er heaven; inhabitants, her sufferings under the present circumstances would be intolerable. The more sea-poit towns we had. the \ more should we have, both to defend and to lose. Our present numbers are so happily pro- portioned to our wants, that no man need be idle. The dimin- ution of trade affords an army, and the necessities of an army create a new trade. Debts we have none, and whatever we may contract on this account will serve as a glorious memento of our virtue. Can we but leave posterity with a settled form of government , aN independent constitution of its own, the pur- ; int Pegs Se ee ays < £7. cnase at any price will be cheap. But tO expend millions 10! ne sake of getting a few vile acts repealed, and routing the presént ministry only, is unworthy the cha rare m9 and is using posterity with the utmost cruelty ; because it is leaving them the great work to ao, and a debt upon their backs. from which they derive no advantage. Such a thought is unworthy a man of wuonor, and is acteristic of a narrow heart and a peddling Gi politic 1an. The debt we may cont ict doth not deserve our regard, if the work be but accomplished. } No nation ought to be without a debt. A national debt ig a national bond ;\ and when it bears pkehdl chbee PERE TT Tater Lee) ie cheese ce tee te. Pe i 2 abcei “$t Sevareisstqee esboot bo ES S ee oor eed See tt tt cseR3 Re epee ere ts 4 eg § errr ri cost et ee ee tte yy 86 COMMON SENSE. no interest, 1s In no case a srievance. Britain is oppressed with a debt of upwards of one hundred and forty millions ster- ling, for which she pays upwards of four millions interest. And as @ compensaiion for her debt she has a large navy; America is without : 14 debt, and without a navy; yet for 1 twentieth part of the Enelish national debt, could havea navy as large agai L. he navy of England is not worth, at this time, more than three million anda half sterling. The following calculations are given as a p roof that the a ; . . . 5 39 ay ‘ 7 tT: of the navy 1S & jUSt one. [See Entick Ss Naval L1s- J iC 1 i rOV¢ in nf pach rate. and furnishing her with masts, The charge of building a ship of each rate, an nishing he Vi rds, S ails and rigging, together v ith a proportion of eight months boat- s\ wain’s and carpenter’s Sea-stores, as calculated by Mr. Burchett, secretary » the navy: For a shi r LOU ly o tg Aw he ve £35,593 cit see os. io 2 aga einen e be RS a ees on Spe OF Sage eee ne 17,785 €¢ “e¢ 60 €é : : . ‘ 14, 197 66 << 50! Rone 10.606 ef ns 4.0) se . ° e ¢ ° 1,598 % . Oo: th ae. Gan eee 5,846 ? : TO SS ec hae eee 3,710 the value, or cost, rather, of in the year 1757, when it was the following ships and guns. And hence it is easy to sum U the whole British navy, which, D ] at its greatest glory, consisted of 5 Uns. Cost of one. Cost of all. a Ships. G On. HOOK co. DOO a ee £213,318 12 D0: ce. Seta eee 358,632 12 ‘* Sie Os GS. eee 283,656 43 5 TOs oo eee gee a ee 764,755 Sou ae Sa AQ) 7 ye A ee vgn 496,895 Ae ee BO 8. a MUU ee 424,240 ADS ee De st 1G00o 4s 6 ie 340,110 58 20 3710.0: 6 sin oe 85 Sloops, bombs, cand fireships, one ace another, at (OSE ccs ee es eee 3, 266,786 Remains for guns. .. - 233,214 Total; sc. ss eis ae 170,000 bo SS > =) No country on the globe is so happily situated, or so inter- nally Gable of raising a fleet as America. ‘Tar, timber, iron and cordage are her natural produce. We need go abr oad fornothing.‘ Whereas, the Dutch, who make large profits by hiring out their ships of war to the Spaniards and Portuguese, atte obliged to import most of the materials they use. We ought to view the building of a { | | | i i leet as an article of commerce, it being the natural manufacture of this country. It is the best money we can lay out. A navy when finished is worth more than it cost: and is that nice point in national policy, in which com- merce and protection are united. Let us build; it we want them not, we can sell; and by that means replace our paper currency with ready gold and silver. ; In point of manning a fleet, people in general run into creat errors ; 1t is not necessary that one-fourth part should be sailors. 1 ry ‘ Beit dae: de Ts ee CS} - 2, sates j 1 ihe privateer Terrible, Captain Death. stood the hottest engage- : . I + JU : YVUUNY Ul = sv + vf ment OL any ship last war, yet had not twentv sailors on board, though her complement of men was upwards of two hundred. A Tew able and social saliors will soon instruct 2 Sulncient 1 : aa ees . 3 . ] ec oS number of active landsmen in the common work of a Ship. Wherefore, we never can be more capable of in aor Aw aes V herefore, never can be more capable of beginning on mari- time matters than now, while our timber is standing, our fish- 1 3 3 : ; atu: oe ; : ; 2 erles blocked up, ANC our sallors and shipwrights out of employ. i L v Men of war, of seventy and elchty cuns, were built forty years ago in New England, and why not ing is America’s the same now? Ship build- reatest pride, and in which she will, in time, excel the world. The great empires of the east are mostlv in- land, and consequently excluded from the possibility of rivalling her. Africa isin a state of barbarism: and no power in Europe hath either such an extent of coast, or such an internal supply of materials. Where nature hath given the one, she hath with- held the other ; to America only hath she been liberal of both. The vast empire of Russia is almost shut out from the sea ; wherefore, her boundless forests, her tar, iron, and cordage are only articles of commerce. in point of safety, ought we to be without a fleet? We are not the little people now, which we were sixty years ago; at that time we might have trusted our property in the streets, or fields rather ; and slept securely without locks or bolts to our doors or windows. The case is now altered, and our methods of defence ought to improve with our increase of property. A comimon pirate, twelve months ago, might have come up the Delaware, and laid this city under contribution for what sum he pleased; and the same might have happened to other places. Nay, any daring fellow, in a brig of fourteen or sixteen guns, SESE Hel bsbsieces ore otto Y eri str eer seta Pee eT tT Tt Tee Tree #4o49SRS mE ey Ree Te Se Le Seed rer ae ASeeree aesPinittserisest tists? ePSPT eT eles eS kava rgsdedeais Pete Pt EL Ee tres 3 si 3 38 COMMON SENSE. micht have robbed the whole continent, and carried off half a million of n Loney. These are circumstances which demand our attention, and point out the necessity of naval protection. Some perhaps, will say, that after we have made It up with Britain, she will protect us. Can they be so unwise as to mean that she will keep a navy in our harbors for that purpose | Common sense will tell us, that the power which hath endea- vored to subdue us, is of all others, the most improper to defend us. Conquest may be effected under the pretence of triendship ; and ourselves, after a long and brave resistance, be at last cheated into slavery. And if her ships are not to be admitted into our harbors, I would ask, how is she to protect us? 2 viz., that if this rupture should happen forty or fifty years hence, arian of now, the continent would be more able to shake off the dependence. ‘To which | reply, that our military ability at this time, arises from the experience gained in the last war, and which in forty or fifty years time would be totally extinct. The continent would not, by that time. have a ceneral, or even a military officer left; and we or those who may succes dus, would be as ignorant of martial matters as the ancient Indians: and this single position, closely attend led to, will unanswerably prove that the present time is preferable to all others. The argument turns thus—at the conc ‘lusion of the last war, we had experience, but w anted rcs ee and forty or fifty yea is hence. we shall have numbers, without experience; - wherefore, the pro per point of time, must be some particular point between ih:COMMON SENSE. 47 two extremes, in which a su ifficiency of the former remains, and a proper increase of the latter is obtained: and that point of time is the present time. The reader will pardon this digre ssion, as it does not properly come under the head I first set out w rith, and to which ] LT again return by the following position, viz. " Should affairs be patched up with Br itain, and she remain the governing and sovere 10N power of America (which, 4S Matters are now circumstanced, is g iving up the point entire ly), we shall deprive ourselves of the very means of sinking the debt we have or may contract. The value of the back lands, which some of the provinces are clandestine ly deprived of by the un- just extension of the limits of Can; da, valued only at five pounds sterling per hundred acres, amount to upwards of twenty- five millions Pennsylvania curre ney; and the quit-rents at one penny ee per acre, t? two millions yearly. It is by the sale of those lands that the debt may be sunk. without burden to any, and the quit-rent reserved thereon, wild always lessen, and in time, will wh« rly support the yea ly ex- pense of government. It matters not how long the debt is in paying, so that the lands when-sold be applie .d to the discharge of it, and for the execution of which, the congress for the rte being, will be the continental trustees. I proceed now to the second head, viz.: Which is the easiest and most practicable plan, reconciliation or wndependence ? with some occasional remarks. He who takes nature for nes guide, is not easily beaten out of his argument, and on that g sround, UC answer generally —That INDEPENDENCE béing @ SINGLE SIMPLE LINE, contained within ourselves; and reconciliation, a matter exceedingly perplexed and complicated, and in which a treacherous. Capricious court ts to enterfere, gues the answer w ithout a dowbi. The present state of America is truly « larming to every man who is capable of reflection. Without law, without govern- ment, without any other mode of power than what is founded on, and granted by, courtesy. Held together by an unex xampled ccurrence of sentiment, which is nevertheless subject to « change, and which every secret enemy is endeavoring to dissolve. Our present condition is, legislation without law; wisdom without a plan; a constitution without a name; and, what is strangely astonishing, perfect independence contending for dependence. The instance is without a precedent; the case never existed ‘eit ee ieetitet ore Tl rer Pa SPSPASSZRgaeeesares ee ete ee he Rao St terete te eee a ge i ta ple Sees 3 ce pe era] 48 COMMON SENSE. before; and, who can tell what may be the event? The pro- perty of no man is secure in the present unbraced system of things. The mind of the multitude is left at random, and see- ing no fixed object betore them, they pursue such as fancy or opinion presents. Nothing is criminal ; there is NO such a thing as treason; wherefore, every one thinks himself at liberty to act as he pleases. The tories dared not have assembled offensively, had they known that there lives, by that act, were forfeited to the laws of the state. A line of distinction should be drawn betweed English soldiers taken in battle, and inhabitants of America taken in arms. ‘The first are prisoners, but the latter traitors. ‘The one forfeits his liberty, the other his head. Notwithstanding our wisdom, there is a visible feebleness in some of our proceedings which gives encouragement to dissen- tions. The Continental Belt is too loosely buckled. And if something is not done in time, it will be too late to do any thing, and we shall fall into a state, in which neither Reconcile ation nor Independence will be practicable. The king and his worthless adherence are got at their old game of dividing the continent, amd their are not wanting among us, printers, who will be busy in spreading specious falsehoods. The artful and hypocritical letter which appeared a few months ago in two of the New York papers, and likewise in others, is an evidence that there are men who want both judgmen’ and honesty. It is easy getting into holes and corners and talking of recon- ciliation: but do such men seriously consider how difficult the task is, and how dangerous it may prove, should the continent divide thereon? Do they take within their view, all the various orders of men whose situation and circumstances, as well as their own, are to be considered therein? Do they put them- selves in the place of the sufferer whose all is already gone and of the soldier, who hath quitted al/ for the defence of his coun- try? If their ill-judged moderation be suited to their own pri- vate situations only, regardless of others, the event will convince them that they are reckoning without their host.” Put us, say some, on the footing we were in the year 1763, to which [ answer, the request is not now in the power of Bri- tain to comply with, neither will she propose it; but if it were, and even should it be granted, I ask, as a reasonable question, by what means is such a corrupt and faithless court to be kept to its engagements ? Another parhament, nay, even the pre- sent, may hereafter repeal the obligation, on the pretence of itsCOMMON SENSE. 49 being violently obtained, or unwisely granted ; and, in that case, where is our redress? No going to law with nations; cannon are the barristers of crowns; and the sword, not of justice, but of war, decides the suit. To be on the footing of 1763, itis not sufficient that the laws only be put in the same state. but that our circumstances, likewise, be put in the s: 7 ame state; our burnt and destroyed towns repaired, or built up, our private losses made good, our public debts (contracted for defence) discharged ; otherwise, we shal! be millions worse then we were at that en- viable period. Such a request, had it been complied with a year ago would have won the heart and soul of the continent —but now it is too late: “The Rubicon is passed.” Besides, the taking up arms, merely to enforce the repeal of a pecuniary law, seems as unwarrantable by the divine law, and as repugnant tc, human feelings, as the taking up arms to en- force obedience thereto. The object, on either side, doth not justifv the means; for the lives of men are too valuable to be cast away onsuch trifes It is the violence which is done and threatened to our persons; the destruction of our property by an armed force; the invasion of our country by fire and sword, which conscientiously qualities the use of arms: and the instant in which such mode of defence became necessary, all subjection to Britain ought to have ceased; and the independence of America should have been considered as dating its era from, and published by, the fivst musket that was Jired against her. This line is a line of consiste icy; neither drawn by caprice, nor extended by ambition; but produced by a chain of events, of which the colonies were not the authors. I shall conclude these remarks, with the following timely and well-intended hints. We ought to reflect that there are three different ways by which an independency may hereafter be effec- ted; and that one of those three, will, one day or other, be the fate of America, viz, By the legal voice of the people in con- gress; but a military power; or by a mob; it may not always happen that our soldiers are citizens, and the multitude a body of reasonable men; virtue, as I have already remarked, is not hereditary, neither is it perpetual. Should an independency be brought about by the first of those means, we have every opportunity and every encouragement before us to form the noblest, purest constitution on the face of the earth. W e have it In our power to begin the world over again. Riera: rea Seriszis neroe yn) SENSE, COMMON t+ The birthday of a new world is at hand, and a race numerous as all Europe contains, are to receive their portion of freedom from the events of a few The reflection is awful—and in this point of view, how ‘rifling, how ridiculous, do the little palrty cavilings, of a few weak or interested men appear, when weighed against the busi- 1 ‘ b now. : Be cee ~ men, pernaps as ness of a world. Should we neglect the present favorable and inviting period, and independence be hereafter effected by any other means, we must charge the consequence to ourselves, or to those rather, whose narrow and prejudiced souls, are habitually opposing the measure, without either inquiring or reflecting. There are Wars : reasons to be given in support of independence, which men should rather privately think of, than be publicly told of. We ought not now to be debating whether we shall be independent or not, but anxious to accomplish it on a firm, secure and honor- able basis, and uneasy rather, that it is not yet began upon. Every day convinces us of necessity. Even the tories (if such solicitous to promote it; for as the a ppointment of committees at first, protected them from popular rage, so, @ wise and well- established form of goverment will be the only means of con- things yet remain among us) should, of all men, be the most tinuing it securely to them. Wherefore, if they have no virtue enough to be Whigs, they ought to have prudence enough to wish for independence. In short, independence is the only bond that tie and keep us together. We shall then see our object, and our ears will be legally shut against the schemes of an intriguing, as well as cruel, enemy. We shall then, too, be on a proper footing to treat with Britain; for there is reason to conclude, that the pride of that court will be less hurt with treating with the American states for terms of peace, than with those whom she denominates ‘rebellious subjects,” for terms of accommodation. I[t 1s our delaying it that encourages her to hope for conquest, and our backwardness tends only to prolong the war. As we have, without any good effect therefrom, withheld our trade to obtain a redress of our grievances, let us now try the alternative, by independendently redressing them ourselves, and then offering to open the trade. The mercantile and reascnable part of Eng- land will be still with us; because peace with trade, is prefer- able to war, withowt it. And if this otter be not accepted, other courts may be applied to.COMMON SENSE. 51 On these grounds I rest the matter. And as no offer hath yet been made to refute the doctrine contained in the former editions of this pamphlet, it i 8 a negative proof, that either the doctrine cannot be refuted, or that the party in favor of it are too numerous to be opposed. Wherefore, instead of gazing at each other, with suspicious or doubtful curiosity, let each of us hold out to his neighbor the hearty hand of friendship, and unite in drawing a line, which, like an act of oblivion, shall bury in forgetfulness every former dissention. Let the names of whig and tory be extinct; and let none other be heard among us, than those of a good citizen, an open and resolute friend, and a virtu- ous supporter of the RIGHTS of MANKIND, and of the FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES OF AMERICA, THE END OF COMMON SENSE, a3 Ce eS kes Pe Pe Ec pas ST ark aie eee PET ee oP ee Ee ee OP BESS Be ere oa te kt Seeirsisc oePeesizes TSTttsterasd r 7 ’ +7 + ¥re yd PeresTHE CRISIS. NUMBER I. THESE are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot wi y in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country ; but he that stands it NOW, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too che ap, we esteem too lightly only that gives everything its value. Heaven. knows how to put a pro oper price upon its goods; and it would be strange in- deed, if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated. Britain, with an ar my to enforce her tyr: anny, has de- clared that she has a right (not only to TAX) but “to BIND us in ALL CASES WHATSOEVER.” and if being bownd in that manner, is not slavery, then is abe not such a thing as slavery upon SO unlimited 2, y; tis dearness earth. Even the expression is impious, for power can belong only to God. Whether the indepen dence of the continent was dec ared too soon, or delayed too long, I will not now enter into as an argu- ment; my own simple opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it would have been much be tter. We did not make a proper use of’last winte r, neither could we, while we were in a dependent state. Howeve r, the fault, if it were one, was all] our own; we have none to blame but ourselves. But no great deal is lost yet; all that Howe has been doing for this month past, is r ather a rav: .ge than a a which the spirit of the Jerseys a year ago would have quickly repulsed, and which time and a little resoluti n will soon recover. I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but m secret opinion has ever been, and still is, that God Almichty will not give up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly to perish, who have go earnestly and so repeat- edly sought to avoid the calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom could invent. Neither have I so much eek he ee Ld eb bel ster errs ore eo tn Poet let hee ed a sa Pre vi Tree ye oF Srey es tee ee eRe e eee eTTT eas Si benemees steer ers rere ee = a oeeer sees etree fs eiats 56 THE CRISIS, of the infidel in me, as to suppose that he has relinquished the government of the world, and given us up to the care of devils ; and as I do not, I cannot see on what grounds the king of Britain can look up to heaven for help against us: a common murderer, a highwayman, or a house-breaker, has as good a pre- tence as he. "Tis surprising to. see how rapidly a panic will sometimes run through a country. All nations and ages have been subject to them: Britain has trembled like an. ague at the report of a French fleet of flat-bottomed boats; and in the fourteenth cen- tury the whole English army, after ravaging the kingdom ot France, was driven back like men petrified with fear; and this brave exploit was performed by a few broken forces collected and headed by a woman, Joan of Arc. Would that heaven might inspire some Jersey maid to spirit up her countrymen, and save her fair fellow sufferers from ravage and ravishment ! Yet panics, in some cases, have their uses; they produce as much good as hurt. Their duration is always short; the mind soon grows through them, and acquires a firmer habit than before. But their peculiar advantage is, that they are the touchstones of sincerity and hypocrisy, and bring things and men to light, which might otherwise have lain forever undis- covered. In fact, they have the same effect on secret traitors which an imaginary apparition would have upon a private murderer. They sift out the hidden thoughts of man, and hold them up in public to the world. Many a disguised tory has lately shown his head, that shall penitentially solemnize with curses the day on which Howe arrived upon the Delaware. As I was with the troops at Fort Lee, and marched with them to the edge of Pennsylvania, I am well acquainted with many circumstances, which those who live at a distance, know but little or nothing of. Our situation there, was exceedingly cramped, the place being a narrow neck of land between the North River and the Hackensack. Our force was inconsider- able, being not one-fourth so great as Howe could bring against us. We had no army at hand to have relieved the garrison, had we shut ourselves up and stood on our defence. Our am- munition, light artillery, and the best part of our stores, had been removed, on the apprehension that Howe would endeavor to penetrate the Jerseys, in which case Fort Lee could be of no use to us; for it must occur to every thinking man, whether in the army or not, that these kind of field forts are only for tem-THE ORISIS. 57 porary purposes, and last in use no longer than the enemy directs his force against the particular object, which such forts are raised to defend ution and condition at 20th of November, when an 10n that the enemy with 200 boats les above: Major General ( who commanded the garrison, immediately ordered them arms, and sent express to General Washington at t] Hackensack, distant by the way of the ferry, first object was to secure the - such was our situs fort Lee on the morning of the officer arrived with informat had landed about seven mi Yreen. under le town of six miles Our bridge over the Hackensacl which laid up che viver between the miles frou us, and chrcve from them. Genera] Washington ar- rived in about three quarters of an hour, and marched at the head of the troops tuwards the brid we should have a brush for ; however, they did not choose to dispute it with us, and the greatest part of our over the brides, the rest over the ferry except some which passed ai a mill on a smal] creek, between the bridge and the ferry, and made their way through some the town of Hackensack. and t] brought of! as much bageage rést was lost. The simple olf the garrison, and march them on till they could be strenethened by the Jer- sey or Pennsylvania militia, so as to be enabled to make a stand. We stayed four days at Newark, collected our out-posts with some of the Jersey militia, and marched out twice to meet the enemy, on being informed that they were ad vancing, though our numbers were greatly inferior to theirs. Howe, in my lit- tle opinion, committed a great error in generalship in not throwing a body of forces off from Staten Island through Am- boy, by which means he might have seized all our stores at Brunswick, and intercepted our march into Pennsylvania: but if we believe the power of hell to be limited, we must likewise believe that their agents are under some providential control. I shall not now attempt to give all the particulars of our retreat to the Delaware: suffice for the present to say, that both officers and men, though greatly harassed and fatigued, without rest, covering, or provision, the mevitable consequences of a long retreat, bore it with a manly and martial spirit. bee i 7 © 7 ; “ wags, Wein return. ¢an show voy the Sword of justice. and call it, ““the best scourge of tyrants. tne hrst of theca tw ~ x ae rn ¢ . 2 : i - May threaten, or even frichten for a while, and east a sickly lanotl0r ver ; suited ] | | AN QUOr OV an insulted people, but reason will gs On recover £4 4 Eee 1 J : ee Ly ( aS : ° ; q 7 Ui de IAUCN, ALI =Yrespore bLoem acvain to tranquil tortitude. V oe 1 wae } : T c 1 a : i =z = ‘our iordshnip, I ind, nas now conta enced author, and pub Rehad o Pa. Ree ee eee rie ? eebbehitasisii tite sliahiebdal Sedat sat ee eed er rs he) sare | ea LET PE ee ee eee a eee = IFES ee ss epee Se Hey eeeeare ye> P Seueit ites? PEL Et ES oT ey Teer ee So " SLISSSTEtE Pee est tit : ; re 7 hate oh ate ts aia tT ts yy b rd = 64: THE CRISIS. out authority. Had your powers been ever so great, they were nothing to us, further than wi pleased: because we had the to do what we thought was ht which other nations haa, 1 . Y ry: riyy / ree . si} an lTogae n ) The UNITED STATES @f AMERICA, will sound as pom same rig : * Hest: nously in the world or in history, as “the kingdom ot Creat Britain ”? the character of General Washington will fill a page with as much lustre as that of Lord Howe. and the congress lament in Lon- } | Sata ide 1 we A eb aay ol nh have as mucn FI SINt to commana tne king AIA par LUA | L don, to desist from ecislation, as they or you have to command congress. Only suppose how laughable such an edict would in that merry mood, do but turn the how your proclamation 1S a (eo Ba gees Al bal , appear trom us, aida vnen, Ls 2 ° tables upon yoursell, and you will see! received here. Having thus placed you in a proper position in ae a mav hav a full view of 7 jie lee Aeaek ean tn dee which yon may have a full view of your tolly, and tearn to des nise it, I hold up to you, tor that purpose, the following quota- tion from your own lunarian proclamation.— ‘And we (lord Howe and general Howe) do command (and in his majesty’s name forsooth) all such persons as are assembled together, uncer the name of general or provincial congresses, committees, con ventions, or other associations, by whatever name or names known and distinguished, to desist and cease from all such trea- sonable actings and doings.” You introduce your proclamation oy referring vo your de- clarations of the 14th of July and 19th of September. In the last of these, you sunk yourself below the character of a private gentleman. That I may not seem to accuse you unjustly, | shall state the circumstance: by a verbal invitation of yours, communicated to congress by General Sullivan, then a prisoner on his parole, you signified your desire of conferring with some members of that body as private gentlemen. It was beneath the dignity of the American congress to pay any regard to a message that at best was but a genteel affront, and had too much of the ministerial complexion of tampering with private and which might probably. have been the case, had the eputed on the business, possessed that persons ; centlemen who were d kind of easy virtue which an English courtier is so truly dis- tinguished by. Your request, however, was complied with. for honest men are naturally more tender of their civil than their political fame. The interview ended as every sensible man thought it would; for your lordship knows, as well as the writer of the Crisis, that it is impossible for the king of Eng- land to promise the repeal, or even the revisa] of any acts ofTHE CRISIS. o> Ort arliament: wherefore, on vour part you had nothing to sav } i - . e ; f 5 ‘ ; S . 2 pie y more than to rec quest, in the room of dem: nding » the entire sur- render of the continent: 3 and then, if that w: US ceo with, 5O promise i hat the inhabitants she ould ce with their lives "his was the upshot of the conference. You informed the ¢ con- erees that you were two months in golix citing these powers W ask, wl “, Wat powers? for as commissioner you have none, T# you mean the power of pardonin if, it is an o] blique proof your master was determined to « sacrifice all] a that you were two months in dissuadin Another ees of his sava uve obstir inacy! account of the matter we may justl y draw these two sions: Ist, That you serve a monster; 2nd, That ne messenger sent on a more foolish e plain language may per oO ia your own conclu- ver was rrand than yours This havs sound uncouthly by courtly refi nements; but words fault lies in deserving them, unfair ly. Soon after your return to New York, you published a very iberal and unm: inly handbill against the con oress; for it was certainly :tepping out of the line of common c ue aes to Screen your national pride by soliciting an inter view with them as private o gentle emen, and in thee conclusion to e Sota or as de- celve the mnie ude by making a handbill attack on the whole body of the concress: you got them tozether under one name. But the ki cing you serve, and the cause you support, afford you so few instanees of ac ‘ting the gentieman, that out of pity to your situation the congress par- doned the insult by t takin« * no notice Or it, You say in that hand! ill, ‘that they, the congress. disa- vowed every purpose for reconciliation not consonant with their extravagant and inadmissible claim of inde pendence,” Why, God bless me! what have you to do with We ask no leave of 1 yours to set it up; we ask no mon ey of yours to support it; we can do ‘better without your fleets and armies than with the mM; you may soon have enough to do to protect vourselves without being burdened with us. We are very willine to be at peace with you, to buv of you and sell tc you, and, like young bebinnées in the world, to work for our living; therefore, why do you put yourselves out of « ash, when we know you cannot svare It, and we do not desire < you to run into debt? I am willing, sir, that you should see your folly in 5 a tO an €ar y itia ved were made for use, and the or the abuse in applying them ill } I and abuss dd them und LCF another. our independence t t . Pete ts PT eee ee te < *Segracdr hes et het teers sr £4a368232 eb oo ol ec ke! = rT. See cee st etPt de daSses cess sr etde se: epevsreiestges >Pte ereeete sire: 5 - a Migiiyeee a eee hei ot st et b Si 7d that you, wae iin enaency 18 Irs, ot thoriz Lo Ve] > on tne . : « + + ° } Sf 1 3 + ~ + 7 MOY) AIT é a¢ ad 4 yY) tT \ world. and 1n so aoing’ are not to be consiaered as tne inven- | y eS 4 an ear ae ee eae, dh ae ors but only ws tne ieraias boat IC Ot Litt GQ iby OI UlIIC OHICS from wnhicn the sense or tne people received a ievali torm; and 16 Was aS Muca as a or all their heads were worth, to have “19 1 18 . 1 ee ‘ e ils ore \d with you on the subject of SUDMISSION under any name whatever gut we know the men in wnoin we have trusted; } = Pr ee oe Famant ? Cal ind Say tae same OT ner paril UMNend & NS } | ; wage oi zs fos Le > now more Pparviculiarly to your prociamation Ol the yy 7 7 e si z L 30t! November iast Hiad you gained an entire conquest 1 : ne Rey Pim eee os over all the armies of America, and then put forth a prociama- aig f ‘ 1 \ . . } Le. - tion, offering (what yu call) mercy, your conauct woulda have 1 . oes Re os ee 0 rey eh teers ] aa : had some specious SAOwW OL Humanity ; Ou tO creep D5 SUYrDPIISeé . L oe gn er ve" ‘ nl +thara nd 1g VOY + tapypity s al 1 Sec ] +ha Into a province, and LoOoerTe enaeca Ly UO; UCRETEY 1d seduce the y Sos tea LS tna tha} just 41] Yeateh ce FO the rest by pro Lise nAadiwantsS TroM tNelr Just aueQlance vo Me Lest ft pron S , which you neitner meant, Nor were able to fy uit Leos both cruel ] 4 : i re. . ace TWA 7 lpnar d unn anly: cruel in 1ts eilectS; because, UNLESS you Can K¢ ep an ¥ An Z a es , be all the eround vou have marcned over, ee are you in the ] . ; ae ates od wis (C4) words of vour procia on, to secure to your pros sly tes “* tne . z ni ie ace aS MN ESR YF ra Ce their property ! W NAr is to become or your new adopted subjects, or your old friends, the tories, Bur- lington, Bordentown, Trenton, Mountholly, and many other laces, where you proudly lorded it for a few days, oft then fied with the precipitation of a pursued thief? What, 1 say, is to become of those wretches? What is to become of those who 1. a a a yee + ) CS eb eee = rent over to you us city and. state $ What more can ze p Es COT mass faAY 7 ; >? hae Did. Sars you say to them ‘‘than snitt for y rselves ? Or what more 3 : | yu Rees Bt gs Tl a ST te n they hove for than to wandez ' lke vagabonds over tne tace Pale re eng Fre PRE Se sete TN EY ip pia i f of the earth = 08. may now tell them to take their leave of : Bl a ee and al Recommend them, for there perhaps they may a 7 A mate a shift to live on Scravs oO and choose companions amone thousands like themselves. ih ees some dangung parasite, ik you for thus beques ath- - we shall soon, at this rate be able * without expense, and grow rich by the ill- ne con meats to carry on a wa Ing estates to t meTHE CRISIS, 67 we policy of Lord Howe, and the generous eee of the tories. Had you set your foot into this c ty, you would have bestowed estates upon us which we never thought a ae bringing forth traitors we were unwi illing to suspect. But these men, you'll say, “are his majesty’s most faithful s subjects ;” then, be all their fortune, and let his h Limself. I am now thoroughly disgusted with them ; they live in un- grateful ease, and bend their whole minds s to mischief. as if God had given them over to they are open to convicti let that honor, majesty take them to lt seems a spirit of infidelity, and that 10n in no other line but that of punish- ment. It is time to have done with tarr ing, feath: ering, carting and taking King securities for their future good bel 1avior; every sensible man must feel a conscious shame at seeir ng a low hawked for a show about the streets, when it is known that he is only the tool of some principal villain, biassed into his offence by the force of false reasoning, or bribed thereto through sad necessity. We dishonor ou rselves by attacking such trifij 1g characters while greater ones are suffered to escape; tis our duty to find them out, and their proper punishment would be to exile them from the continent forey er. The circle of them ig not so great as some imagine; the influence of a few have tainted many who are not natu rally corrupt. 1-1 +t > In Q7 NaN never more ove Menvionea pub tnere y KNOL OF Men amMone ~ , 1 - 3 ~ + Or such & venomous ASE, THAT ney witlL not aamit ven oni oy aT Ly re tLaiy fawar 1 bea teen ; } eood wisnes to act in welr La or. instead OF rejoins eaven had. as 1t were, providentiaily prest veda tS C10’ 1 1 1 ~ } < ’ > plunder and tru On: DY GQElLEVeErIne. Sees ! i a ro aot A : a ] 1 } : Lae enemv into our hands with so littie elusion OF biood, thev stu } Fe ] ] Eg 1 Dorn L eted FO GISDELIEVE Lt Clik Wl nan nour, nay } ; | Laney i oe } +] ljaler 1{ } nour, OL tin SOneCrs @lLiLivily , L¢ LOE LAK Ss Dut Orts Te it OOn+h eT : : : oe testimony, datea tne zUtN OF Ler ber, slened Joh m o¢ , apa Tone eS pe Vee L 4 ‘ | ry | , ton, aeaaring’ tnelr ai nAmMeilt ) ULL ILISN OL { ment Wm } : : ines men are continually nar is on tne yreat SIN OL OU : _ 3 = 19774 - ar | + | | ' ) + ) cr oY 4] sas te } bea Ing arms, put tne KING Oi Bi 10a y lay waste the Woria in blood and famine, and t! to say. 1 e win. . 1 « aie oe ee 1 in some future paper i mn ad to distinguish between tn 3 . 7 . . 1 ‘ Be 4 1 G ‘ent kind of persons wno nave been aenon nated tories ¥ 1 7 1 ror tals -L am clear in, tnat all are 000 so who nave veen ealled ; ;o, nor all men whigs who were once thought Sd; and as 1 meai ae ] f $ ? 7 1 Nov to CO ceal I name or any true rriena woen there shall DE 1 1} 7 ° =! OCCAS n to mention nim. neitner W il] | that or an enemy, wa Pp 1, lc hha ae y ey x + oucht to be known, let his rank, station, or religion be what i . Fe Af + ] ss 1 l } ? may. Wiucn pains have In taken oy some to set your ora gn1iD Ss DYlvabe cnaracter In an amiable lignt, but as 1t has chief y py a a aS al Se a oe foes ee ee oeen aone by men W0 know nothing about Vou, ana who are uo ways remarkable for their attachment to us, we have no just * T have ever been careful of charging offences upon whole societies « men. but as the paper referred to is put forth by an unknown set of men who claim to themselves the right of representing the whole ; and while the whole society of Quakers admit its validity, by silent acknowledgment, it is impossible that any distinction can be made by the public: and the more s because the New York paper ¢2 the 30th of December, printed by permission to speak openly of their attac! AS O of our enemies, says that “‘the (Quakers begin ment to the British constitution.” Weare certain that we have many friends among them and we wish to know them.THE CRISIS 69 Je a uthority for believing it. Georce the 4] i us by the same arts, Hint time, at ley LG : Him justice ne same fate “Obahlyv hi Y i the same fate may prooandly al end your lordship Your «vowed purpose here, is to kill. eo; juer, plund pard | ] an WV. , ~ “ ao 2 ‘i 1 1 ~ enslave: ae the,1 ravages O£ your army thnrouen the. erseys nave been marked with as much bar irisma as if you ea openly pr LO- a } ei Sas : ao aeee | ~ } iCssed VC urself the VEIICe, Oi LUIMaNSs: not even the apvearvance - | f ELS € Le ney be COMLINGANRAET-4N-C/LLEF. ‘ my ET Bee | Sd meet al } } 2 bs ] Se} ? orders vnat all inhabitants VOO sna | N€@ TOUNndG WIth LrmHaAS,. Nest . ta Ae] oe ; } } i 13 i bee having an otucer with them shall pe immeaiateiy taken and hune ny.” ow anv vou mav have this rivatelv eserif ] nuns up. f10W Many you may nave th lS privately nacrince > i . + * e/ heehee n+ a; 7 ieee) ine Feo } me cs now not, and the account can only ve pe In anotner yr li L. Your treatment of prisoners, in * to distress them n your infernal service, is not to ain equalled by any it 1 t instance in Europe. Yet this is the humane lord Howe and 4 As some people may doubt the ti uth of such wanton destruction, I think it necessary to inform them, that one of t] ne pe ople called Quakers, who lives at Trenton, gave me this information at the house of Mr. Michael Hutchin- son (one of the s same profession), who lives near Trenton ferry on the Penne sylvania side, Mr. Hutchinson being present. ee ree ee S ao eee er eck re Pe PS Ee Sa OF $peskSag eet) ere Fase rT eo~ es ea. Pe ri Tes mr ort gtiedeSs m4 rs F oa 4 - re | te 4] . * Le Tee ae i : pes 9 eA Lam 0 4 eae] spesannatte7 Pee! ee 70 THE CRISIS. his brother, whom the tories and their three-quarter kindred, the Quakers, or some of them at least, have been holding up for patterns of Runroe and mercy! A bad cause will ever be supported by bad means and bad men: and whoever will be at the pains of examining strictly into things, will find that one and the same spirit of oppression and impiety, more or less, governs through your whole party in both countries: not many daysago [accidentally fell in company with a person of this city noted for espousing your cause, and on my remarking to him, “that it appeared clear to me, by the oS f late providential turn of affairs, that God Almighty was visibly on our side,” he replied, ‘‘ We care nothing for that, you may have Him, and welcome; if we have but encugh of the devil on our side, we shall do.” However carelessly this might have been spoken, matters not, ’tis still the insensible principle that directs all your conduct, ad will at last most assuredly deceive and ruin you. If ever a nation was mad or foolish, blind to its own interest and bent on its own destruction, it is Britain. There are such things as national sins, and though the punishment of individuals may be reserved to another world, national punishment can only be inflicted in this world. Britain, as a nation, is, in my in- most belief, the greatest and most ungrateful offender acainst God on the face of the whole earth; blessed with all the com- merce she could have wished for, and furnished, by a vast ex- tension of dominion, with the means of civilizing both the eastern and western world, she has made no other use of both than proudly to idolize her own ‘‘thunder,” and rip up the bowels of whole count 7 { sh C ries for what she could get. Like Alexanc she has made war her sport, and inflicted misery for prodigality’s sake. ‘The blood of India is not yet repaid, nor the wretchedness of Africa yet requited. Of late she has miarged her list of national pret by her butcherly de- struction of the Caribbs of St. Vincents, and return ing an answer by the sword to the meek prayer for ‘‘ Peace, liber ty and safety” -These are serious things, and whatever a foolish tyrant, a debauched court, a trafficking legislature, or a blinded people may think, the national account with heaven must some day or other be settled; all countries have sooner or later been called to their reckoning; the proudest empires have sunk when the balance was struck ; and Britain, like an individual peni- tent musb undergo her day of sorrow, and the sooner it happensTHE CRISIS. 1 to her the better: as J wish it over, I wish it to come, but witha] wisn that it may be as light as possible. g Perhaps your lordship has no taste ea serious things; by your connections with England I should « suppose not: there“ore I shall drop this part of the subject, and take it up in a line in which you will betti rT inderstand me. By what means, may il ask, do you ex pect to conquer America? If you could not affect it in the Summer, when our army was less than yours, nor in the winter, when we had none, how are you to do it? In point of generalshi 1p you have been outwitted, and in point of fortitude outdone: your advantages turn o your loss, and show us that it is in our gifts: like a game of drafts, ut to power to ruin you by we can move out of one square to let you come in, in order that we may afterwards take two or three for one: iad as we can always | keep a double corner for ourselves, we can alw: ys prevent a total defeat. You cannot be so insensible, ag not to see that we have two to one the adv ant- ace of you, because we conquer by a drawn game, and you lose by it. Burgoyne might have taucht your lordship this know- ledee; he has been long a student in the doctr ine of chances. i ki ave no other idea of conquering countries than by sub- duing the armies which defend them: hay e you done this, or can you doit? If you have not, it would be civil in you to let your proclamations alone for the present; otherwise, you will ruin more torie s by your grace and favor, than you will whigs by your arms. Were you to obtain possession of this ci ity, you would not know what to do wn it more than to plunc a ite) (DG hold it in the manner you hold New York, would be an additioual dead wel, a upon your hands: and if a general conquest is your object, you had better be without the city than with it. When you Aage defeated all our armies, the cities will fal] into your hands of the mselves; but to creep into them in the manner you got into Princeton, Trenton, etc., is like robl ing an orchard in the night before the fruit be ripe, and running away in the morning. Your experiment in the Jerseys is suffic sient to teach y ou that you have something more to do than bar ‘ely to get into other people’s houses; and your new converts, to whom you promised all manner of protection, and seduced into new ouilt by pardoning them for ites ir former virtues, must begin to have & very conte emptible opinion both of your power and your policy Your authority in the Jerseys is now reduced to the small cibele Peerpes ete ee ee ee ee Pressed cde Pesissss es SERS SEILER ESSE FEL ES5 eet ere Se ebeaaess So ters er Stee een he oS ae ree eae Res CeePT reress reeEr a Ae a oe _ et 242 a es 2 a ote ee ee Ee . ELeretty re aioe sh eeeke} Cid) es ere ee CZ THE CRISIS. and your pr ocla mation is no where c ged be to be kl: sughed at. The mighty subduers of the continent hay e retreated into a nut- shell, and the proud foro ers of our Sins hs LVE fled from those they came to p: ardon' i time when they were despat chi Be vessel after th the great news OF eve! 7 day In short, xpedition 50.7 very - Oe ana. which your army occ uples, €1Se seen unle and all x71 wi 1ave managed your Jersey € VOU ilay I that the only are conquerors, because none will dispute the oround with them. = | haw x } AN rneo 1 5 Lu ponent = wars which you have formerly been concerned 1n, ly armies to contend with; in this case you have both -y to combat with. In former wars, the n army and a counti eta ee e P te cate Tae Giles a ee he | ly SRR countries followed the fate ol their capitals; Canada fell with yee ae bh Port Mahon or St. Fhuups; by sub- Q@uebec, anda Wiinored with ; duing those, the conquerors ned a way into, and became masters of the country; nere ‘+ ig otherwise; 1f you get possess ion of a city here, you are obliged to shut yourselves up in it, and can make no other use of 11, than to spend your country’s money in. Thisis ail the advantage you have drawn from New York ; and you would draw less from Philadelphia, because it requires more Lorce to keep 1, and is much further from the sea. A pretty figure you and the tories would cut in this city, with a river full of ice, and a town full of fire; for the immediate | ld be, that you would be eonsequence OF your gf tting here wou , vile : : a bad A 5 co Mee Al at te it again, and the tories be obliged to make good 2 l La + oleae the Be ete Ei a ae and this sooner or later will be the fate of New e the Or saved, not so much fron military a‘ motives Tis the hiding place of women and lord Howe’s prope! business is with our armies. all the circumstances together which ought to be oh at your notion of conquering America. Because is j 4 ae a a ~s } as ? oan oe eS , little country, where an army might run-over the a oe et : Fee ccc davs. and where a single company ot sold iers might put a multitud le to the rout, same here. It is plain that you brough narrow notions you were bred up with, was to do gre at things 3 but and your lordship, I 2 ey you expects ed to find it the over with you all the and imagined that a proclamation in the kine’s name Englishmen always travel for knowledge, hope, will return, if you return at all, much wiser than you ai came. We may bes urprised by events we did not expect and in thatTHE CRISIS. on] f OD i. werent ane terval of recollection you ay, gain so me tem porary advantace: +7 i rE et av? such was the case a fe 2»w weeks ago. b ‘ iy we soon ripen 17 to raaann olleet sr atra 1 age i mM O reason, collect our st vrength, and while you are prep for a triumph, we come upon yoy eS op ah ea peen, and such it would be were you to try over. Were you to garrison the yla In order to secure their subjection (for by no other me: ae Sie 18), your army woul ar * fe ws . fo 2 Dp 7 eee "= - running to nothing. By the time you extended trom New Yy ork ieee ee at foreead . to. Virk lid, YOu ould De ge aee to & String of drops not can rbhla + { aNncine ( oeth » uh; T } tu t apabie OF Nanging vosetner; while we, by retreat trom stat ty i ilsa a. wasn | I~ as . 1f ] LO state, like a Yiver tur nin lO pack upon ltself, would acaulre eae A . itn + ) N¢ >mMa > \OKrTIN? IQ ATHIW c ] -] SUrengtn 1n the same proportion as you lost it, and in the end S waa hia ak acon. 2 m4 be capable of over whelming you. ihe counti in. the mean- Ke ee er mae LA eatin Lo Se } L 7c : : 5 time, would suffer, NUL 10 1S a.dav or SULLEYIN and weo 1oht to ee z 7 z 1 . ee 7 a Lat ‘ TO mAh + . ; E aap US ESE } ra & Ro 2 CXPECU 1, W hat we contend for 1s wortnay tne athiction we xr . eae ] Ee x + ] ] - ; j May Fo through it we et but bread to €at, and any kind of raiment to put on, we ought not only to be contented ut than k- de 7 Re 2 ri a | L , 1 7 1 ful iviore than hat we Oucnt not 1 100K tor, and less than yy, hoa rod pps n : 7 1 1 that heaven has not yet sutlered us to want. re that would ‘al Diethinoh +] : a Se@ili DIS birthrioht ror a little Salt, 1S aS wort 1le€SS as he yx I old Pee eee Hig re TE Ao oy eet : } it fOl porridge WILNOUG salt. ANA ne trat would part vith it for COW InNaT Or 2 ] ; Anat Jnaoht far i 1 | ; 100 a Say Coat, or a plain COal, OULCNL [or ever to be a stave 1n at Nee ls pa ae i 5 | buff. Whnat are Salt, sugar an | Hey Pe Ole Eh tlLima e OE mace Ss acs i 6k be ha 1 CaAtxy }?? L, } z bless Ings OL AHLOETULY anda sarety! Or wnat are the in l- oO + “ > venliences of a few months to the tributary bond @ Of -2G6Es Tl) eee A APea. nilactioL Le 1e meanest peasant in America, blest W1tn tnese sent 1) IS & happy man compared with a New York tory ; he can eat i his morsel without repining, and when he has done, can sweeten it with a repast of wholesome air: he can take his child by the hand and bless it, without feeling the conscious shame of neg- lecting a parent’s di j In publishing t { jomenel 1ese remarks I have several objects in view. On your part LHNeY are to expose the folly of your prete nded authority as a commissioner; the wickedness of your cause in impossibility of your conquering us at any rate. On the part of the public, my intention is, to show them their true and solid interest: to er courage them to their own good, to remove the fears and falsities which bad men have spread, and weak men have ene ouraged; and to excite in all men a love for union, and a cheerfulness for d luty. I shall subm it one more case to you respecti ng your conquest eat ot) a ee Pd rps i 2 See aa rr ees eos tai Pa Tee eee: +] ety eet te LEE RE 7 A THE CRISIS, é of this country, and ther ies) to new observations. Sup- pose our armies in every allt of this continent were immediately to disperse, every man to his home, or where else he might be safe, and engage to re- -assemble again on a certain future day ; it is clear tl hat you w ould then have no army to contend wit th, yet you would be as mu ch at a loss in that case as you are now ; vou would be afraid to send your troops in parties over the continent, either to disarm or prevent us from asse mnibling, lest they should not return ; and while you kept them toget ther, having yarmy of ours to dispute w ith, you could not cal] ita conquest; no you might furnish out : ge page in the London Gaotte At or a new New York pape but when we returned at the ap- pointed time, you would have the same work to do that you had at first. It has been the folly of sane to suppose herself more pow erful than she really is, and by that mea ans has arrogated to herself a rank in the world she is not . cea d to; for snore than this century past she es not been able to carry on 2 war w ithout foreign assistance. Marlborough’s campaigns, and from that day to this, t he ee r of German troops and otlicers wssisting her have heen about equal with her own; ten thousand Ifessians were sent to England last war to protect her from a French invasion; and she would have cut but a poor feure in her Canadian and West-Indian expeditions, had not America been lavish both of her money and men to help her along. ‘Vhe only instance in which she was engaged singly, that : ean recollect, was against the rebellion in Scotland, in the year 17-42 and Hae and in that, out of three battles, she was twice beaten, at 1 thus reducing their numbers (as we shall yours), and ¢ king a supply ship that was coming to Scotland w rith cl othes Ss, arms and 1 money (as we have often done), she was at last enabled to de- 3 : > < : ] 3 them. a nd was never famous by land; her officers have generally been suspected of cowardice, have more of the air of a agtiet inc-master than a soldier, and by the samples which we have taken prisoners, we give the preference to ourselves Her strength, of late, he lain in her extravagance; but as her finances and credit are now low, her sinews in that line begin to fail fast. Asa nation she is the poorest in aa for were the whole kingdom, and all de is in it, to be put up for sale like the estate of a bankrupt, it would not fetch as much as she owes; yet this thoughtless wretch must ¢o to war, and with the avowed design, too, of making us beasts of burden, to support} - i+ ek $ } mie. 7 3 se ser m riot and debauchery, and to assist her afterwardc in stressing those nations who are now our best friends. Tha “ude lay sult a tory, or the unchr ‘1stlan peevishness of ; : i L au a i / iW wir Wi + ay } ry i: o 1 1T ] maien Cuaker, but none else. cr Le ae “ ] , O be pleassd with iis the unhappy temper of the English any War, right Or wrone, be LU but Succes ¥¢ stul; but i L they soo prow discontented with ill-fortune “e 1 Ss? keke 4S UCI ‘: ivil Ee Gre Lull 1g, an¢ iV S$ ani Cy en Ci) \ that they are as clam f he 1 Mddeh LILO YS { » ¢ hit » LOF peace CXU SU) y ; [ dh og 5 og - a9 ClamMoOrous fo! peace Next summer, as the k 2 7} , . te 2c r , fA TO ] ; ‘ and his ministers were for war iaSt winter. in this n ui ae Pah 2 poe | Teds lee sre : view OL (lines, your 1oraship stands in av very critical siti L) . io} a ] ‘ v6 tT . ; Nn r Lact } your whole Cillaracter 1S how staked upon your laure Ig Lew ay » & - é: wv : ; xia edb : wither, you will with live lone to look at the oO. A hercaiter is not fa cate What fe apEsere to us misf _~ aA} rat {J St ce e 5 : . er with t them ; if they flourish, you cannot MASiO} EMC, Were only Ss >SSIN igs in disguise ; and t e seeming advan- lages on your side have turned -out to our Roles Even our ss of this city, as far as we can see m ight be a principal gail to us: the more szrface you spread over, the thinner you will be, and the easier wiped away; and our ph aaon under th: ic apparent Seer would be, that the estates of the tories would become securities for the repairs. In short; there is no old sronnd we can fail upon, but some new foundation rises again to support us. ‘“‘ We have put, sir, our hands to the plow, and cursed be he that looketh back.” Your Hee im his sp That he 1..d no doubt but ie him to s ud to America, would « eech to parliament last t spring, declared, great force they had enabled {Tee tually reduce the rebellious colunies.” It has not, neither can it; but it has done just enough to l.y the foundation of its own nex t year’s ruin. You are sensible that you left Berslenid in a divided, distracted state of poliiics, and, by the command you had there, you became the principal prop of the court party; their fortunes 42 yours; by a single express you can fix their value with t lic, and the degree to whi: h their spirits shall ris rest on he P rub » and fal] be, DUECY. are in your hands as stock, and you have the secret of the ae with you. Thus situated and connected, you ee the unin- tentional mechanical instrument of your own and their over- throw. The king and his ministers put conquest out of d loubt, and the credit of both depended on the proof. To support them in the interim, it was necessary that you should make the most of everything, and we can tell by Hugh Gaine’s Ne York paper what the complexion of the London Gazette is. Perper te foresee res Frey Pe areata tse Sere ee ESsESTVO TIS * I" SEE Ge dehsssece + sr etsekes 2 kt BEES | Pe: eae ee Po Pe EPR TS SETS ¢¢ ke si Seed Se S54ntti sseseiiite: a . 3 ths Pare: PES ose eS | > eo sddegszisiniti With such a list of victories the nation cannot expect you will : ; ' . pales, sty ee ask new supplies ; and coniess your want of them, would give XY » cals LLVUN 5 A - ‘J : : nd impeach the king and his minis- e pee e Lf you make the necessary CA 5 a the lie to your triumpns, a treasonable deception. vy sinks; if you make it not, you demand at home, your party SU before : i ters Of 71 | > ale ft st now Is t lote. and tk ask t SInK VY OUTSEIL; tO AadSK 1t now 18 oo late, and bO ash 1 Poa and nniess it arrive iekly ‘ll be of no use was too soon, ana unless 1t arrive qu LCKLY will pe OF NO USE. c L a SAS Y Ope ve to act, canii yt De acted and iam ruil ) 3 jee e part you Na\ a At i in snort, tire } ‘ ¥ i 11 i L : ae . : 5 : Ve + : ae i 1 that all you have to trust to 1s, to do the best you can ersuadet Though we have with what force you have got, or little more. creatly exceeded you 1n point of generalship and bravery of : ; ople we have not entered into the full soul of enterprise ; for [. who know England and the disposition of the people well, am confident, that it is easier for us to effect a rev- olution there than a conquest here: a few thousand men landed in England with the declared’ desien of deposing the present : his ministers to trial, and setting up the Duke of Gloucester in his stead, would assuredly carry their point, while you were grovelling here ignorant of the matter. As | send all my papers to England, this like ‘““Common Sense,” will find its way there; and though it may put one party on their suard, it will inform the other, and the nation in general, of parent men, yet, as a pe i. ) t king, bringing our design to help them. ‘hus far, sir, | have endeavored to give you a picture of pres- ent affairs: you may draw from it what conclusions you please. I wish as well to the true prosperity of England as you can, but I consider INDEPENDENCE America’s natural right and interest, and I never could see any real disservice it would be to Britain. If an English merchant receives an order, and is paid for it, it signifies nothing to him who governs the coun- T t try, This is my creed of politics. If I have anywhere ex- pressed myself over-warmly, ’tis from a fixed, immovable hatred have. and ever had, to cruel men and cruel measures. I have likewise an aversion to monarchy, as being too debasing to the dignity of man; but I never troubled others with my notions till very lately, nor ever published a syllable in Eng land in my life. What I write is pure nature, and my per and my soul have ever gone together. My writings I have always given away, reserving only the expense of printing and paper, and sometimes not even that. I never courted either fame or interest, and my manner of life, to those who know it, will justify what Isay. My study is to be useful, and if yourTHE CRISIS Pe] 7 lordship loves mankind as well as T do, you would, Seeing y cannot conquer us, cast about and lend your hand ¢ oward 8 plishing a peace, Our indepen lence, se God’s bles will maintain against all the world; but a; we w evil ourse lves, we wish not to over-inquisitive into the secrets of the cabinet, but I } notion, that if you neglect the present Opportunity, that it will] not be in our power to make a separate peace with you a*tter- wards; for whatever treaties or alliances we form, we shal] most faithf fully r abide by ; Wherefore you may be deceive od it you think you can make it with us at any time. A lastiy 1, inde- pendent peace is my wish, end, and aim; and to accomplish that, “TL pray God the America and I trust iS May never be defeated, Ww hile the Y hav e good O hic mmanded,” and will- inflict it on ae i “ers, and are well co ing to be commande d, “that they NEVER WILL Bp,” Comnron SENSE PHILAD LLPHIA, Jan. 13, 1777, ee NUMBER IEE, In the progress of politics, as in ¢] life, Wwe are not only apt to rorgs t the over, but freque nt tly neglect to gather We expend, if I m: 1Y SO say, the Kn 10W circ umstances that produce ] i and journe Vy OD in S@é area of new matter and new refinements: but as it is pleasant useful to look back. ey en to t] trace the turns and windings we may likewise derive man Ly advants ages by halting a while in ur politics al career, and tak ing a review of th. le wondrous com: oie ated labyrinth of little more than yesterday, Truly may we say, that never did men grow old in so shorta time! We have C mowed the business of an age into the com- pass of a few months, and have been driven th rough such rapid succession of thi ngs, that for the want of leisure to think, we unavoidably wasted eno dge as we came, and have le oft early as much behind us; us We brought with us: but the ro is yet rich with the fr agments, and, before we fully lose gs ‘she of them, will repay us for the trouble of them up. Were a man to be totally de le common occurrences of ground we have travelled up expe rience as we oO, 2 led ge of eve ery day on the and sometimes 1e first periods of infan icy, and through which we have passe d, so a ¥ r oC : a ne stopping to iol prived of memory, he would be do 7 7 YOu acc om- sing, we ist i avoid am never nave some eee ore yer es Seietesgcreesiss* TOE VT ree Porat tts BA G86 6 alge by ibe aty Ts = spaserestyS032 ths Sa: meee ers hse eei a Tis iit eter se Ll. id: (het = 4 ble of forming any just opinion ; everything about him aan yale O 1 ’ oe Se ast vee < spetctet i SRS Me oe eA I oR Dg would s ma cna he woulda have even nis OWN Nistory to 7 | ry Shak > y { > Troyes TOY as nN ry on and by not knowing how the world went in ice, he woul eata! to know how it ought to hi i u LU, it ( oo or waen ne recoveread, Or ravner, Vr urned to it again. In 1a » las Stee oreat 1nattel Li to lire Manner, tl YO IN @ L€ss O y OTEat ilawtbt 1L1ON to past OC Les it 5 revi iS anda WV i Cip Le FAL Ent 1 every oe SN ile, on ti contrary, oV comparin’ What is p ist W } . a 3D bates | J 1 be ° t ” ‘ A ee oa 4 ' ae aus a A { Pus , 4 wnat 18 present, We Trequenuy Nit on tue true Character Of 0otn, i ai (Aaa ig ee a r Ae SS Pe nd bec e wise wita very iittule trouoie. it 18 a Kl} d OF dees ter-march. by whica we get into the rear or time, ahd n ark the movy nents ad meaning ofr things as Wi make oul return _ . . 7 : } = oe bate : : } +3mman 4 17 = cy e are certain circumstances, Wiallt D, at ti 1€ time OL Unelr Né up nenine, are a kind of riddles, and as every riddle is to be fol- 1 . 3 ToS 1 o 2 ark “4 fy ~ - 1 ~ lowed by its answer, so those Kind OL circumstances will be fol- S . , 8 is . e hs lowed by their events, and those events are alway vs the true i 7 pus 1 lutio} Ac considerable space of time raay lapse bet ween, and os : e. 1 Be eee rless we continue our -cybabeaehoue from the one to the o ther, + “7 2 i a eee w od oe Ena tl eee of them will pass away unnoticed; but the misfor- tune is. that partly from the. pressing necessity Or some instant t uns XS, and p LY tly from the impatience of our own tempers, we are frequently in such a hurry to make out the meaning of everything ¢ as fast as it happens, that we thereby never truly incerstand it; and not only start new difficulties to ourselves by so doing, but, as it were, embarrass Providence in her good designs. { have been civil in stating this fault on a large scale, for, as it now stands, it does not appear to be levelled against any par- ticular set of men; but were it to be refined a little further, it might afterwards be apphed to the tories si a degree of striking propriety; those men have been remarkable for draw- ing sudden conclusions from single facts. The least apparent mishap on our side, or the least seeming advantage on the part of the enemy, have determined with them the fate of a whole campaign. BY this hasty judgment they have converted a re- treat into a defeat ; mistook generalship for error ; while every la little advantage purposely given the enemy, either ro weaken their strength by dividing it, embarrass their councils by mul- tiplying their objects, or to secure a ‘ieee post by the sur- render of a less, has been instantly magnified into a conquest. Thus, by quartering ill policy upon ill principles, they have fre- quently promoted the cause they have designed to injure, andTHE CRISIS. 79 injured that which they int “ YT) } ry 7 \ - Bs Ta e ' ~ 7 CHGEa tO promote. It 18 probs the Nai 1: e DEER had Wee eee a e - Lone Campaion in 5 GE it operore this luilnpDer Comes LTOM: “tine press. ine enemy have lone lain idle, and amu ed t nseives atl ae) Wrres 14 ie 47 a ao : y ae will Carrying on the war by procla lations only. While +] 47 MAT eth as ee a : ; : 3 continue then delay our strengta increases, and were thev bc move to a r vice Sage r Scat sd r 1 1 move to action now. it js a Clr umst ntial proof tha they nave no reinforcement coming: Wherefore, in either parative advantage will be Lil aes Boe Bie whale, case, the com- ours. Like a wounde od, disabled they want only time and ‘oom to die in: and though In the agony of their Oxiti it may be unsafe to live within the Hlappin ng of their tail, vet ev ery hour shortens their date, and ~ lessens Ey lx power ‘of mischief, ‘ Tf am thing havvens while T - Teere ee >. eer SST EAE ES Pia eE res bes Pees FSG bbe Prt. Note iri ate ete: 32, THE CRISIS our national expenses be resentment, Or Iship is, neverthe- may be gratifie ad by harmony am | frienc | bv “forfeited e states, CAaASEAa less, the hay piest ¢ yndition a country can be blest with. The principal RS in support of independence may be couaprenh sanded under the four following he ee 1st, The aiid oht of the contu yent to independence. ond. Her interest in being indepe ndent. 3rd, The ne cessity ,— and {th, The mor: al advanta Ages arl sing therefrom. 1st, The ns atural right of paul continent to independence, is a yet was called in ste sstion. Lt will not even point which never admit of a debate. atheism against nature: tion would | he The fool h Ind, The interest of the continent 1n as clearly right as the former. America, ternal | industry, and unknown to all the powers of Europe, was, at the beginning € f the dispute, arrived at a pitch of greatness, trade and population, beyond which it was the interest ot Britain not to suffer her to pass, lest she should grow too pow erful to be kept subordinate. She began to view this country with the same uneasy m: alicious eye, with which a cov- etous cuardian would view his ward, whose estate he had been 1imself by for twenty years, and saw him just arriv- And America owes no more to Britain for we present mé iturity, than the ward would to the guardian for being twenty-one years of age. That America hath flourished + the tume she was under the government of Britain, 1s true; at there is every né atural reason to believe, that had she been an independent country from the first settlement thereof, un- seatvolle od by any foreign power, free to make her own laws, regulate and enc ourage her own commerce, she he ad by this time been of much greater W -orth than now. ‘The case is simply this: the first settlers in the different eolonies were left to shift for themselves, Biotiecd and unsupported by any European gov ernment: but as the tyranny and persec ution of the old world daily drove numbers to the new, and as, by the favor of heaven on their industry and perseverance, they grew into importance, so, in a like degree, they became an object of profit to the greedy eves of Europe. It was impos sible, in this state of infancy, how ever thriving and promising, that they could resist the power armed invader that should seek to bring them under his To deny such a right would be a kind ot and the best answer to such an objec ath said 4 in his heart there 1s no God.’ being pola pendent is 2 point by her own in e satiohing k ing at manhood. €e anyTHE CRISIS. 835 authority. In this situation Britain thought it worth her while to claim them, and the continent received and acknowledged the claimer. I+ was, in reality, of no very great importance who was her master, seeing, that from the force and ambition of the different powers of Europe, she must, till she acquired strength enough to assert her own right, acknowledge some one. As well, perhaps, Britain as another; and it might have been as well to have been under the states of Holland as any. The same hopes of engrossing and profiting by her trade, by not oppressing it too much, would have operated alike with any master, and produced to the colonies the same effects. The clamor of protection, likewise, was alla farce; because, in order to make that protection necessary, she must first, by her own quarrels, create us enemies. Hard times indeed ! To know whether it be the interest of the continent to be independent, we need only ask this easy, Simple question: Is it the interest of a man to be a boy all his life? The answer to one will be the answer to both. America hath been one continued scene of legislative contention from the first king’s representative to the last; and this was unavoidably founded in the natural opposition of interest between the old country and the new. A governor sent from ingland, or receiving his authority therefrom, ought never to have been considered in any other light than that of a genteel commissioned spy, whose private business was information, and his public business a kind of civilized oppression. In the first of these characters he was to watch the tempers, sentiments and dispositions of the people, the growth of trade, and the increase of private fortunes; and, in the latter, to su ppress all such acts of the assemblies, how- ever beneficial to the people, which did not directly or indirectly throw some increase of power or profit into the hands of those that sent him. America, till now, could never be called a Sree country, be- cause her legislation depended on the will of a man three thousand miles distant, whose interest was in Opposition to ours, and who, by a single “no,” could forbid what law he pleased. The freedom of trade, likewise, is, to a trading country, an article of such importance, that the principal source of wealth depends upon it; and it is impossible that any country can flourish, as it otherwise might do, whose commerce is engrossed, craniped and fettered by the laws and mandates of another— yet these evils, and more than I can here enumerate, the con- S$agSe¢acgs22235545 Pe Pt 4 Peo Res ae beled #* ere e tes eee et = SFLTSISSEF ee seoe a s sg tee ee na is by ’ , i My bert ‘i oo Yh rst 4 res is te ‘¢ od ~ tame § eee 4 Dba eo Ae Pee tercer erect. Se S4 THE CRISIS. tinent has suffered by being under the government of England. sy an independence we clear the whole at once—put an end to the Business of unanswered petitions and fruitless remonstrances exchange Britain for Europe- shake hands with the world __live at peace with the world——and trade to any market where we can buy and sell. ikewise, of being independent, even be so evident and important that the ~yined every day that she delayed Rritain would endeavor 2rd. The necessity, | fore it was declared, became continent ran the risk of being ¥ it. There was reason to believe that to make an European matter of it, and, rather than lose the whole, would dismember it, like Poland, and dispose of her claims to the highest bidder. Genoa, failing in. her several French, ts to reduce Corsica, made a sale of it to the attem} have been common in the old world. “We had and such trathcs at that time no amba t ssador In any part of Europe, to counteract her negotiations, and by that means she had the range of every foreign court uncontradicted on our part. We even knew nothing of the treaty for the Hessians till it was concluded, and the troops ready to ombark. Had we been independent before, we had probably prevented her obtaining them. We had no credit abroad, because of our rebellious dependency. Our ships could claim no protection 1n foreign courts, because we afforded them no justifiable reason for granting it to us. The calling ourselves subjects, and at the same time fighting against the power which we acknowledged, was a dangerous precedent to all Europe. If the orievances justified the taking up arms, they justitied our separation ; if they did not justify our separation, neither could they justify our taking up arms. All Europe was interested in reducing us as rebels, and all Europe (or the sreatest part at least) is interested in supporting us as inde- pendent states. At home our condition was still worse; our currency had no foundation, and the fall of it would have ruined whig and tory alike. We had no other law than a kind of moderated passion ; no other civil power than an honest mob; and no other protection than the temporary attachment of one man to another. Had independence been delayed a few mcnths longer, this continent would have been plunged into irrecover- able confusion: some violent for it, some againso it, till in the general cabal, the rich would have been ruined, and the poor destroyed. It is to independence which every tory owes the present safety which he lives in; for by that, and that only, weTHE CRISIS. 8 emerged from a state of dangerous recular people. ine necessity, likewise, of being independent, had there been 10 rupture between Britain and « Suspense, and became a America, would, in a littl ime, have brought one on. The creasing importance of com- merce, the weight and perplexity of legislation. tangled state of Huropean politics, the continent the umpossibility i e t and the en- would daily have shown to of continuing subordinate; for, atten the coolest reflections on the matter, this must be allowed, erica to govern it justly; too 3 and too far distant from it to T that Britain was too jealous of Am ignorant of it to govern it well govern it at all. 4th. But what weigh most with all men of serious reflection are, the moral advantages arising from independence: war and desolation have become the trade of the old world ; and America neither could, nor can be under the gover nment of Britain without becoming a sharer of ] | ler guilt, and a partner in al] the dismal commerce of death. The spirit of duelling, extended ona national scale, is a proper character for European wars. They have seldom any other motive than pride, or any other object than fame. The conquerors and the conquered are generally ruined alike, and the chief difference at last is. that the one marches home with his honors, and the other without them. ’Tis the natural temper of the English to fight for a feather, if they suppose that feather to be an affront; and America, without the right of asking why, must have abetted in every quarrel, and abided by its fate. It is a shocking situa- tion to live in, that one country must be brought into all the wars of another, whether the measure be right or wrong, or whether she will or not; yet this, in the fullest extent, was, and ever would be, the unavoidable consequence of the eon- nexion. Surely the Quakers torgot their own principles, when, in their late Testimony, they called this connexion, with t] military and miserable appendages hanging to it— constitution.” 1ese “the happy Britain, for centuries past, has been nearly fifty years out of every hundred at war with some power or other. It certainly ought to be a conscientious as well as political consideration with America, not to dip her hands in the bloody work of Europe. Our situation affords us a retreat from their cabals, and the present happy union of the states bids fair for extirpa- ting the future use of arms from one quarter of the world; yet echt Red, See el ed 72} Seeet Slaserseo~ - Rede brig dbageeimiebbichic és SPATS SSS LFS OES Se Set ers eee 7 Ree ST: a ae KSMerritt tite eregeterteie ici e see L a at east i tt ot eae he tens. pitt, “4 Sar: 86 THE CRISIS. such have been the irreligious politics of the present leaders of the Quakers, that, for the sake of they scarce know what, they would cut off every hope of such a blessing by tying this con- tinent to Britain, like Hector to the chariot wheel of Achilles, to be dragged through all the miseries of endless European wars. The connexion, viewed from this ground, is distressing to every man who has the feelings of humanity. By having Britain for our master, we became enemies to the greatest part of Europe, and they to us: and the consequence was war in evitable. By being our own masters, independent of any foreign one, we have Europe for our friends, and the prospects of an endless peace among ourselves. Those who were advo- eates for the British government over these colonies, were obliced to limit both their arguments and their ideas to the period of an Huropean peace only: the moment Britain became plunged in war, every supposed convenience to us vanished, and all we could hope for was not to he ruined. Could this be a desirable condition for a young country to be in? Had the French pursued their fortune immediately after the defeat of Braddock last war, this city and province had then experienced the woful calamities of being a British subject. t: PTT ite. oe ey 4 5 eee Es PARED: sisoeeeeee34t etter: $6 hk at O4 THE CRI SIS. reverenced a supported by repeated Testimonies, while the friendly I 100d > from W hom she Was take N) (and wh oO is how in in the service of his rival, as if Q this city) continues a drudge prouc 1 of being cuckolded by a creature called a king. Our support and success depend on such a variety of men and circumstances, that every one who does but wish well, is of some use: there are. men who have a strange aversion to arms, yet have hearts to risk every shilling in the cause, or in support of fending it. Nature, in the those who have better talents for det arrangement of mankind, has fitted some for every service in life: were all soldiers, all would starve and go naked, and were none soldiers, all would be slaves. As disaffection to in- dependence is the badge of a tory, SO affection to it is the mark ee whig: and the different services of the whigs, down from those who nobly contribute every thing, to those who have nothing to render but their wishes, tend all to the same centre, though with different de prees of merit and ability. The larger we make the circle, the more we shall harmonize, and the stronger we shall be. Al we want to shut out is disaffection, and. that excluded, we must accept from each other such aes as we are best fitted to bestow A narrow system of politics, like a narrow system of religion, is calculated only to sour the temper, and be at var ianece with mankind. All we want to know in America is simply this, who is for independence, and who is not? Those who are for it, will sup- port it, and the remainder will undoubtedly see the reasonable- ness of paying the charges; while those who oppose or seek to betray it, must expect the more rigid fate of the jail and the eibbet. There is a bastard kind of senerosity, ‘hich 1 being extended to all men, is as fatal to society, on one hand, as the want of true generosity is on the other. A lax manner of administering justice, false ly termed moderation, has a tendency both to dispirit public virtue, and promote the growth of public evils. Had the late committee of safety taken cognizance of he last Testimony of the Quakers and proceeded against such deli inquents as were concerned therein, they had, probably, preve ited the treasonable plans which have been concerted since. When one villain is suffered to escape, it encourages another to proceed, either from a hope of escaping likewise, or an apprehension that we dare not punish. It has been a matter of general surprise, that no notice was taken of the incendiary publication of the Quakers, of the 20th of November last; aTHE CRISIS. 95 publication evide ntly intended to premote sedition ; and encoura oe the ene my, who were {] len withi? nd tr ‘eason, a day's march of this sity, to proceed on and possessyit, “at era, present the the reader with ; a memo 1al which was laid before the board of safety a few days after the Testimony appeared. Not a mem- ber of that boa sch, tha ut [ conversed ae Pass expresst ce pune hichest detests ition of the pery erve rted } IT} Quaker ¥I junto, and a wish ¢] up; notwithstandine which, it was Sulferecd to Pass away un- noticed, to the encouragement of hew acts of treason, the general danger of the vu cause, and the d iserace of the state, at (ha board paceh take fae matter TO Tt oe HONORABLE THE COUNCIL, STATE OF PENNSYLVANIA. 4 At a meeting of OF SAFETY OF THE a Treputat putab le number of the in] habitants of ¢ he city of Phil adel la, Impressed with a proper sense of the justice of the cause whi thi. s continent is ¢ ngaged in, and animated with a generous fer vor for supporting the same. it w as resolved hat the following be laid before the board of safety: ‘““We profess Lib rality of sentiment to all inen; with this distinction only, hat those who do not deserve Lt eng become wise and seck: ” deserve Lb. We hold the pure 5 octrines of aera liberty of conscie? r ee 7 COven- 7 © us NCce, and CONCEelVe 1t ou ] . Veer togs 4.7 : 1] ieavor to see ure that sacred right to others. as Well as to . de fey 1d t for ourselves; for we under} ake not to judge of the religious ae of tenets, but leave the w nole.matter to. Him a ho made us. “We persecute no man, neither will we abet in the persecu- tion of any man for valioionis sake; our common relation to others being that of tellow-citizens and tellow-subjects of one single com munity; and in this line of connexion we hold out the right hand of fellowship to all men, But we should conceive ourselves to be unwo1 ‘thy members of the Sree and in- were we unconcerne dy ¢ to see or to suffer any treasonable wound t, public or private, directly or indirectly » to be given against the € peace and the safety of the same, W e inquire not into the rank of the offe nders, nor into their religious pe rsuasion; we have no business with either, our part being only to find them out and exhibit them to justice. ‘A printed p: Ap er, dated the 20th of November, and signed ‘Tohon Pemberton,’ whom we suppose to be an inhabit tant of this city, has lately beer 1 dispersed abroad, a copy of which accom- de pendent States of Ame oT UCA, Eee sete rh ese eset ee ee) Se eet Le Ne at tee hee Stesi Cte tT Tt epi: oo ejerepe eseeee TR EOE. Tet te eo] rrsriitisies t Fe le} my ee Pa . er EL EL Ee ER Thea] . * pee eee Peer: ¥ St bheteh ity so: Fel SSS Sen55 here res eet S ca Pn a Te THE CRISIS. Tad. the framers and pub! lishers of that paper ty to exhort the youth and others of their sul mission under - the pre ‘sent try ine visita nt of heaven towards them, and we ae been ) } a panies this. conceived it seine du society, to a Pa nT tions, and hum nbly to av rait the evé they had merci sisHowad a Christian temper, silent: but the anger and political virulence with which their instructions are given, and the abuse with which they stigmatize all ranks of men, not thinking like themselves, leave no doubt from what spirit their public: ation procee ded: and i1 to the pu re cause ae truth, that men can dally and pl AY them off as mech- it is disgracertul ted only in contrivance. We know on our minds > ih words of the most sacred mmport, anically as if religion ¢ onsist : -, which the Quakers have been compelled in their conscience to submit te of no instance 1n to Be aavth ing which m Light stra ‘to withstand and refuse the arbitrary ‘instructions and ordinances of men, appear to us a false alarm, and could only be treasonably c ai dated to gain favor with our enemies when they are seemingly on the brink of invading this state, or, what is still worse, to weaken the hands of our defence, that their entrance into this city o might oe and easy. near arms, OL wherefore their advice, be made pr acti “We disclaim al | tumult and disorder in the punishment ot offe siete and ate to be £01 erned, not by tempe! r but by reason, in the manner of treating them. We are sen sible that our cause the two following errors: first, by a. eee lenity to tr aitorous persons In some CASES; one secondly, eats Vy a passionate treatment of them in others For the ll and wish to be steady in our - proceedit igs, and has suffered by we ‘dis own bo th, BETLGUS in our punishments. ‘Every state in ame has, inhabitants, directed and authorisé publisl . a formal declaration of ind from, the oppre ssive king and pa wrliament of Great we Jook on every man as an enemy) + who does not in some line tow: aaals supporting the same; at offence to be he ichtened to 2 +h persons, under the by the repeat ed voice of its od the continental congress to separation itain; and pen idence of, ai id 3 Br or other, give his assistance the same time we consider the degree of unpard: nable guilt, when suc show of 1 religion, endeavor, Bice by writing, speaking, or otherwise, to subvert, overturn, or bring reproach upon the independence of this continent as declared by congress. «The publishers of the paper signed ‘ John Pemberton,’ have ealled in loud manner to their friends and connexions, ‘to with- Yr >stand or refuse’ o »bedience i2 ances’ may be publishe id, not warranted by (what thev call that happy constitution under Which they and others lone en- IOV eq tran < willit rT and Nea9eea ? Tf Pee dal - iN tae tranquillity and peace. It this be not treason, we know not what may properly be called by that nam To us it is a Matter of Surprise and astonishment. that men with tha , EP ) - ie 13 Wren the word ‘peace, pec ce, continually on their lips, should y L } r ; : 5 Hea x L a « ay » a - t YE SO LOnd OF spate under and Su Pportin ate governn Hent, and ; ; iis ; ’ at tne same tir Ineo it. , , 7 ea 4NnV Man's head, W hen we 2 wish such per sons to restor removing themsely ves to some part OL KIESIS, CvLlONS or orc to whatever ‘instruct ¥ hath filled ‘aes with ear age ar and tampered with Indian; and iS bil or the freemen of America, We ae ca this State, to harbor or w INK at such aS we seek not to hurt the hair of v Cae ce to Qt writ) 11 y SATE WIt HOU, we nemselives and US, DY ~y - Ss | reat Britain dominions. as by that means they may live unmolested by us 1 1 > pee. 1 1} ] ] and we by tnem ; for our UuxXeg opinion 1S, tnat those who di : la a ; } rn e not deserve a plac ‘mong us, ought not to have one. Ve conclu into consideration the paper signed ‘ shall appear to them to ie with requesting t be of ; dangerot is tendenc rye l > she Counc i] or satety to take Z pode > Bis Hes ee As, = ‘ Johy d Tae il CMvErLON, and 1D 1G or of a Lreas mahle ped diel that they W pl ee t the sioner, together wtil persons as they can one were concerned therej h time as some mode of trial in al] ASC ult and punishment; in the doi ces, whoever they may be, to dis interest, riches, poverty, or pri mn, and to att jorid to the nature of his offence ek \ B rm contal ning the least ingredi: on which the Americ: Vv « 177 71 wypitty 2 ] > such aD imput ity, and I are weeds of cs S: ume :d. uno] 7 A have lived sie rh this ‘dispute would have mol shed them. ine most cavi lling’ sectarian cannot accuse the for es roing W ith T) : rh J2 » OF persecution. = ie Fie oe } Tied cae hes is ty can cause 1s rounded, disdains to mix wit) ~ S it as rubbish fit only for narrow and SUSpIclOus minds to SrO% in. Suspici ion and persecution | 1] ill, a na 1 flour; sh toget ther, Had tne Quakers minded their reli: gion ae their busi iness, they might in enviable ease, and none The common phrase with these people is, ‘Our pri incuples are ae To which may be rephed, and your practices are the reverse, for never did the conduct of 7 Sty _ : Peer se! oS eee er eh ee eo rer Peepers ryt chy | S@t2tga gree esy aoe ek ees dmbes Perret et CBee Ro 6 cubes SF re ee oes | ES SeSree tie Peer ey TEC EEES Be E- —T ate bes Peer ses ess pose tne elr see doctrine more THE CRISIS. notoriously than the : 1 XN } oe z ] abe ‘I , Ta ay ally GC! langeda re om ~~ OeCY Lave atvui present race 0 eives a aiterent oat of peopie to what they used to be, and vet have the address to persuat le each other that they aré not altered: like antiquated virgins, they see not the havoc ae upon them, but pleasantly mistaking } | clay eas conceive themselves yet 1ovely > and wondet not admiring them. €y iF TY qu Uis , ae jes. PA Tea ee aes Cet J] to toe pu blie Dy Unis avostacy Or he C . yess ee TL ce Lee le Quakers from tnHemse.y es, the pope woulda Nave nothing to ao witn 1b; oUt as botn % the de 28191 and consequences are pv bea against a cause In W biol the whole community are INVETester, : et Ae Ye Pee Al 2a ee £ iu 1S SEE oer a subject confined to the cognizance O01 : } anh 5 A ee Seal na the meeting oniy, 0Ub comes, aS a2 matter Or Crit Nally, sLOre either the autnority of the particular state am which 1t 18 at d or oi tne continent agarnst witch 1b Operates. rivery avtempt, / 4 x 5 : j 1 16 ae yf the king and parliament 1 } San an es = {;reat DT! over Americ 1S } (Sie sie TVs Eber per tnererore it 1s LMPOSsl bie vLonat any pay : (eS es ae 17 punisni ment an omenaer against aut. But to proceed: wahie the infatuated tories OF tis and ovne} er i Bae eat Seca ae Tos en ae Ria eee <9 keg eer ii states Wiehe LaASU spring alKiIng or commissioners 24CcCcO moda t : = Bete i t Hy < a tne what stufl t10n, Maki and nonsense, dae good king se : salves with t the ay sul hnvission, and ee { yueri trom tne p is 1b In One ing the matter up, an g and ministry were glutti x them- | nerica to wn onditional 1 the pc of con- oll owing quotations ar 5 cS “— 4 “AS ; } = Sea . Cast I aero ac the parliamentary register of the debates of the House ol _ March 5th, Lv 16. 3 No ¥ 5 | = . he Americans,” says lor d Talbot,* ‘‘ have been obstinate lutifu i. t he eir more JAC o LO 7b i first and vLO | Le any powen;:: the > die 1 is cas and ung eat from the very beginning, from 1 c i . om : re r early and infant settlements: and I am every da} ] this people never will be brought 1 uns more convinced that * Ayatur . -} crt ‘ 1; 2 < “nla Se y Lh any stawei y \eir duty, anc 1 the subordinate relation they stand 1 a + tz aa} Sal, Al ; me pee ee } , J 1Ur' till reaucead to UINCONAUTAL," effectua submis- concession ONT OUT PUTt, moO LeneituU, TLO endurance, ther erect put that of increasing tneir msolence. The Pace says iol rd Town send,y ‘1s now a struggie LO! Bk als t, and the only 4} mont whic % Steward o "RE fie king’s Pondahold. 1 ‘ KF orme I ly, Ireland. General Townsend, at Quebec, and late lord-lieutenant «THE CRISIS. 99 to be determined, is, in what manner the war can be most effectually prosecuted and speedily finished, in order to procure that wnceonditional submission, which has been so ably stated by the noble earl with the white staff;” (meaning lord Talbot,) “and I have no reason to doubt that the measures. | will put an end to the war in the course Should it linger longer, we shall now pursuing of a single campaign. then have reason to expect that some foreign power will interfere, and take advantage of our domestic troubles and civil] distractions.” Lord Littleton: My sentiments are pretty wellknown. I shall only observe now that lenient measures have had no other effect than to produce insult after insult t; that the more we conceded, the higher America rose in her demands, and the more insolent she has grown. It is for this reason that [ am now for the most effective and decisive measures; and am of opinion that no alternative is left us, but to relinquish America for ever, or finally determine to compel her to acknowledge the legislative authority of this country; and it is the principle of an wnconditional submission I would be for maintaining.” Can words be more expressive than these 1 Surely the tories will believe the tory lords! The truth is, they do believe them, and know as fully as any whig on the continent knows, that the king and ministry never had modation with America, but an absolute, unconditional con- quest. And the part which the tories were to act, was, by downright lying, to endeavor to put the continent off itg guard and to divide and sow discontent in the minds of suc whigs as they might gain an influence over. In short, to keep up a distraction here, that the force sent from England might be able to conquer in “‘¢ the least design of an accom- one campaign.” ‘They and the ministry were, by a different game, playing into each other’s hands, The ery of the tories in England was, “Wo reconciliation, no accommodation,” in order to obtain the greater military force; while those in America were crying nothing but “reconciliation and accommodation,” that the force sent might conquer with the less resistance. But this “single campaign” is over, and America not con- guered. The whole work is yet to do, and the force much less to doit with. Their condition is both despicable and deplorable: out of cash—out of heart, and out of hope. A country fur- nished with arms and amuunition, as America now is, with three millions of inhabitants, and three thousand miles distant trom Pesepes cdr Psp sessdscdst SRP ESSEC EL SSeS EL Pereee verry ES SSSesstssssrF Sts ePresigsusasses73sest ce ia — eae ees oe Pee tay + tot ope be ce tery te = ee ee ee ~~peer sStEstsiiter es. eee pete sere) mee aaah NS eietatetecsre Fi fii Bebstecieie ate ree hardat, CR LS i is. LOO THE the nearest enemy that can approach her, is able to look and laugh them in the face. Howe appears to have two objects in view, either to go up the North river, or come to Philadelphia. By going up the N rth river. he secures a retreat for his army through Canada, but the ships must return if they return at all. the same way they went; as our army would be in the rear. the safety of their passage down isa doubtful matter. By such a motion he shuts himself from all supplies from Europ: but ete Canada, and exposes his army and navy to danger of perishing. Che idea of his cutting off the commun! 1 \ ; i Lin . « a4 eat ion betwe en the eastern and southern states, by means O71 ry t North river, is merely visionary. tie cannot do it by ping, because no ship can lay long at anchor in any river wit reach of the shore; a single gun would drive a first rate trom . rm ° 7. ee i E > } - j : Tce. oe he be bs ; FY 3 Tey Stet Pl bree ee tt tate 7 102 THE CRISIS. ought to be the study of government to draw the best use possible from their vices. When the governing passion of any man, or set of men, is once known, the method of managing them is easy; for even misers, whom no public virtue can impress, would become generous, could a heavy tax be laid upon cov- etousness. The tories have endeavored to insure their property with the enemy, by forfeiting their reputation with us; from which may be justly inferred, that their governing ‘passion is avarice. Make them as much afraid of losing on one side as on the other, and you stagger their torryism; make them more so, and you reclaim them ; for their principle is to worship the power which they are most afraid of. This method of considering men and things together, opens into a large field for speculation, and affords me an opportunity of otfering some observations on the state of our currency, so as to make the support of it go hand in hand with the suppression of disaffection and the encouragement of public spirit. The thing which first presents itself in inspecting the state of the currency, is, that we have too much of it, and that there is a necessity of reducing the quantity, in order to increase the value. Men are daily growing poor by the very means that they take to get rich; for in the same proportion that the prices of all goods on hand are raised, the value of all money laid by is reduced. A simple case will make this clear; let a man have a £100 in cash, and as many goods on hand as will to-day sell for £20, but not content with the present market price, he aises them to £40, and by so doing, obliges others, in their own defence, to raise cent. per cent. likewise; in this case it is evident that his hundred pounds laid by, is reduced fifty pounds in value; whereas, had the market lowered cent. per cent. his goods would have sold but for ten, but his hundred pounds would have risen in value to two hundred, because it would then purchase as many goods again, or support his family as long again as before. And, strange as it may seem, he is one hundred and fifty pounds the poorer for raising his goods, to what he would have been had he lowered them; because the forty pounds which his goods sold for, is, by the general raise ot the market cent. per cent., rendered of no more value than the ten pounds would be had the market fallen in the same prepor- tion; and, consequently, the whole difference of gain or loss is on the difference in value of the hundred pounds Jaid by, vz.,THE CRISIS. 103 from fifty to two hundred. This rage for raising goods is for several reasons much more the fault of the tories than the whigs ; and yet the tories (to their shame and confusion ought they to be told of it) are by far the most noisy and discontented. The greatest part of the whigs, by being either now in the army or employed in some public service, are buyers only and not sellers, and as this evil has its origin in trade, it cannot be charged on those who are out of it, But the grievance has now become too general to be remedied by partial methods, and the only effectual cure is to reduce the quantity of money: with half the quantity we should be richer than we are now, because the value of it would be doubled, and consequently our attachment to it increased; for it is not the number of dollars a man has, but how far they will go, that makes him either rich or poor. These two points being admitted, viz., that the quantity of money is too great, and that the prices of goods can only be effectually reduced by reducing the quantity of the money, the next point to be considered is, the method how to reduce it. The circumstances of the times, as before observed, require that the public characters of all men should now be fully under- stood, and the only general method of ascertaining it is by an oath or atirmation, renouncing all] allegiance to the king of Great Britain, and to support the independence of the United States, as declared by congress. Let, at the same time, a tax of ten, fifteen, or twenty per cent. per annum, be collected quarterly, be levied on all property. These alternatives, by being per- fectly voluntary, will take in all sorts of people. Here is the test; here is the tax. He who takes the former, conscientiously proves his affection to the cause, and binds himself to p2y his quota by the best services in his power, and is thereby justly exempt from the latter; and those who choose the latter, pay their quota in money, to be excused from the former, or rather, it is the price paid to us for their supposed, though mis- taken, insurance with the enemy. But this is only a part of the advantage which would arise by knowing the different characters of the men. The whigs stake everything on the issue of their arms, while the tories, by their disaffection, are sapping and undermining their strength; and, of consequence, the property of the whigs is the more exposed thereby; and whatever injury their states may sustain by the movements of the enemy, must either be borne eis ruse tee hate ree es paeasisegseegages Poe a se ars hehe oho e te ae debates agersSeti as et LOA THE CRISIS, by themselves, who have done eyery ching, which has yeé been done. or by the tories, who have not only done nothing, but have, by their disaffection, invited the enemy on. In the present crisis we ought to know, eee by square, and house by house, who are in real allegiance with the United In o dependent States, and who are not. Let but the line be made clear and distinct , and all men will then know what they are trust to. It would not only be good policy but strict justice, to raise fifty or one hundred thousand pounds, or more, if it is necessary, out of the estates and property of the king of Fneland’s votaries, resident in Philadelphia, to be distributed, as a reward to those inhabitants of the city and state, who should turn out and repulse the enemy, should they attempt to march this way; and likewise, to bind the property of all such persons to make ibe ood the damages which that of the whigs might sustain. In the undisting iatal le mode of conducting war, we fret yuently 1 make eee at sea, on the vessels of per- sons in England, who are friends to our cause, compa red with lent tories among us. In ever former publicati ion of mine, from Common Sense down to the last Crisis, I have generally gone on the charitable supposition, that the tories were rather a Piper ee than a the resi y aN h fh criminal people, and have app! lied argument after argument, with all the candor and temper w hich I was c apable ay in order to set every part of the case clearly sae fairly be fore them, and if possible to reclaim them from ruin to reason. I have done my duty by them, and have now done with that doctrine, taking it for granted, tl 1at those who yet hold their disaffection, are either a set of avaricious miscreants, who would sacrifice fae continent to save themselves, or a banditti of hungry traitors, who are aoe for a division cl the spoil. To which may be added, a list of crown or proprietary dependants, who, -ather than go without a portion of power, would be content to share it with the devil. Of such men there is no hope; and their obedience will only be according to the danger set before them, and the power that is exercised over them. A time will shortly arrive, in which, by ascertaining the characters of persons now, we shall be cuarded against ; their mischiefs then; for in Ee tion as the enemy despair of con- a they ill be trying the arts of seduction and the force of ear by all the mischiefs ‘which they can inflict. But in war we fey be certain of these two things, viz., that cruelty in an >THE ORISIS. 105 enemy, and motions made with more than usual parade, are always signs of weakness. He that can conquer finds his mind too free and pleasant to be brutish; and he that intends to conquer, never makes too much show of his strength. We now know the enemy we have to do with. ‘While drunk with the certainty of victory, they disdained to be civil: and in proportion as disappointment makes them sober. and heir apprehensions of an European war alarm them, thev will become cringing and artful; honest they cannot be. But our answer to them, in either condition they may be in, is short and full- ‘““As free and independent states we are willing to make peace with you to-morrow, but we neither can hear nor reply in any other character.” If Britain cannot conquer us, it proves that she is neither able to govern nor protect us, and our particular situation now is such, that any connexion with her would be unwisely ex- changing a half-defeated enemy for two powerful ones. Eu rope, by every appearance, is now on the eve, nay, on the morning twilight of a war, and any alliance with George the third, brings France and Spain upon our backs; a separation from him attaches them to our side; therefore, the only road to peace, honor and commerce, is Independence. Written this fourth year of the union, which God preserve. Comuoy SBYsE PaiwaperPays, April 19, 1777. NUMBER IV. THOsE who expect to reap the blessings of freedom, must, like men, undergo the fatigues of supporting it. The event of yes- terday was one of those kind alarms which is just sufficient to rouse us to duty, without being of consequence enough to depress our fortitude. It is not a field of a few acres of eround, but a cause, that we are defending, and whether we defeat the enemy in one battle, or ly degrees, the consequence will be the same. Look back at the events of last winter and the present year; there you wil] find that the enemy’s successes always contri- buted to reduce them. What they have gained in ground, they paid so dearly for in numbers. that their victories have in the Bret. CB a$Sgbgaeiasgezs isis rh Pett 4 Sed ee Cust tt es =e err are pes ite teats goss tt Gy res |Pests se et el rerey ee ee I. tr 1 as po i ts ed = TrsTistieasl pagdededss Ce ee ~ STP eerTertee ss eo te bbe eh? cya 3 ot. . 106 THE CRISIS. end amounted to defeats. We have always been masters at a last push, and always shall be while we doourduty. Howeh been once on the banks of the Delaware, and from ihenes driven back with loss and disgrace; and why not be again driven from the Schuylkill? His condition and ours are very different. He has every body to fight, we have only his one army to cope with, and which wastes away at every engagement: we cannot only reinforce, but can redouble our numbers; he is cut off from ne aUpPLes; and must sooner or later inevitably fall into our an = d he Bi band of ten or twelve thousand robbers, who are this day fifteen hundred or two thousand men less in strength than they were yesterday, conquer America, or subdue even a single state? The thing cannot be, unless we sit down and suffer them to doit. Another such a brush, notwithst: anding we lost the ground, would, by still aie sone the enemy, put them in a con- a § y dition to be afterwards totally defeated. Could our whole Slee - ave come up to the attack at one time, the consequences had aie been otherwise; but our having different parts of the Bra ndywine creek to guard, and the uncertainty which road to Philadelphia the enemy would attempt to take, naturally afforded them an opportunity of passing with their main body at a place where only a char of of ours could be posted; for it must strike every thit aking man with conviction, that it re ia ures a much greater force a cniioxs an enemy in several places, than is sufficient to defeat him in any one place. Men who are sincere in sa their freedom, will always feel concern at every circumstance which seems to make against them; it is the natural and veneer consequence of all affection- ate attachments, and the want of it is a vice. But the dejec- tion lasts only for a moment; they soon rise out of it with addi- tional vigor; the glow of hope, courage and fortitude, will, i a little time, supply the place of every inferior passion, and kindle the w Hole, heart into heroism. There is a mystery in the countenance of some causes, which we have not always present judgment enough to explain. It is distressing to see an enemy advanc ing into a country, but it is the only place in which we can beat them, and in w hich we have always beaten them, whenever they made the attempt. ‘The nearer any disease approaches to a crisis, the nearer it is to 8 eure. Danger and a make their advances together,THE CRISIS. ee Be pe ss ° ° and it is only the last push, in which one or the other takes the lead. nere are many men who will do their duty when it is not want Nadine as ‘ tan peice wanted; but a genuine public spirit al VayS appears most whe there is most occasion for it, Thank God! our army, though Be ee Og ope ene mM es ris) 3 = fatigued, is yet entire. ‘The attack made by us vesterday was Nn yy TY) 9 \ - wae Poe 4 CYaAC ] ° ° , nder many ao” naturally arising from the uncer- LUA h tainty ot kno J Le. which route the enemy would tale: and 5 Ay » 3 oC ie Le from that circumstance the whole of our force could not be brought up togeth 2 +5 nr a} ~ \ er time enough to engage all at once. Our t+ } ane Tat racarrxr shee eet ice ¥ E L a strength 1s yet reserved; and it is evident that Howe does not think himself a gainer by the affair, other ‘wise he wo uld this morning have moved down and attacked Gentlemen of the city and country, it is a your power, by a anivieds improvement of the present circumstance, to turn it areal advantage. Howe is now weaker than before, and every shot will continue to reduce him. You are more immediately interested than any other part of t , stake ; it is not so with the general cause: you are devoted by the enemy to plunder and destruction: itis the encouracement which Howe, the chief of plunderers, has promised his army. Thus she continent: your all is at circumstanced, you may save yourselves by a manly resistance, and you can have no hope in any other conduct. vet knew our brave general, or any part of the army, officers or men, out of heart, and I have seen them in circumstances a thousand times more trying than the present. It is only , ! those that are not in action, that feel languor and heaviness, and the best way to rub it off is to turn out, and make suré work of it. Our army must undoubte*ly feel fatigue, and want a rein- forcement, of rest, though 1 f valor. Our own interest and > give them every support in our power, happiness call upon us t and make the bu 1 of the day, on which the safety of ¢ city dep ends, as light as possible. Remember, gentlemen, that we have forces both to the northward and southward of Phila- delphia, and if the enemy be but stopped till those can arrive, dire city will be saved, and the enemy finally routed. You have too much at stake to hesitate. You ought not to think an hour upon the matter, but to spring to action at once Other states have been invaded, have likewise driven off the invaders. Now our time and turn is come, and perhaps the fini: shing stroke is reserved for us. When we look back on the = be Ste er heath bis Rte ks ot enc sa heehee as TS au = ee eFS Sree Seats ek es = ose es helegvatioeia: L 4eh! “.¢ A - Tee ete ELS es PLL eR ae ys * Fekete ees: et be 7 fietl 223 Peers ees | Pee et ekee es ot ee ee rea 108 dangers we have been saved from, and reflect on the success we have been bl a with, it would be sinful either to be idle or to despair. I close this paper with a short address to General Howe You, sir, are only lingering out the per ‘iod that shall bring with it your defeat. You have yet scarce begun upon the war, and the further you enter, the faster will your troubles thicken. What you now enjoy is only a respite from ruin; an invitation to destruction; something that will lead on to our deliverance at your exp yense. We know the cause which we are engaged in, and though a passionate fondness for it may make us grieve at every injury which threatens it, yet, when the moment of con- cern is over, the determination to duty returns. We are not moved by the gloomy smile of a worthless king, but by the ardent glow of generous patriotism. We fight not to enslave, but to set a country free, and to make room upon the earth for honest men to live in. In such a case we are sure that we are right; and we leave to you the despairing reflection of being the tool of a miserable tyrant. CoMMON SENSE. sryryry PHILADELPHIA, Sept. 12, 177 NUMBER V. TO GEN. SIR WILLIAM HOWE. To susie with a man who has renounced the use and au- thority of reason, and whose philosophy consists in holding humanity in contempt is like administering medicine to the dead, or endeavoring to convert an atheist by scripture. Enjoy, sir, your insensibility of feeling and reflecting. It is the prerogative of animals. And no man will envy you those honors, in which a savage only can be your rival and a bear your master. As the generosity of this country rewarded your brother’s services last war, with an elegant monument in Westminster Abbey, it is consistent that she should bestow some mark of distinction upon you. You certainly deserve her notice, and a conspicuous place in the catalogue of extraordinary persons. Yet it would be a pity to pass you from the world in state, and consign you to magnificent obliviun among the tombs, without telling the future beholder why Judas’ is as n-THE CRISIS. 103 known as John, yet history ascribes their fame to very different Reta 2 > William hath undoubted al merited a monument: but of W ee kind, or with what inscription, where placed or how em- Helichad sa: : 1] 44 beuisned, 1s a question that wor a puzzle all the heralds of St, IMeaV’a In tha y tH aaTrT Al - James’s in the prot macs mood of hi storical delibe ration. W e , to ascertain your ol character, but some- what perplexed how to perpetuate its identit 1 : are at no LOSS, SIT Y; sea preserve it uninjured from the transformations of time or mistake. A Statuary may give a false expression to your bust, or d USt, Or decorate ib With some equivocal emblems. by which you m: ay happen to steal Into reputation and impose upon the hereafter tracdition- ary world. Ill nature or ridicule may conspire, or a variety of accidents combine to lessen, enlarge, or change Sir William’s faine; and no doubt but he who has taken so much pains to be singular in his conduct, would choose to be just as sineular in his exit, his monument and his epitaph. . The usual honors of the dead, to be sure, are not sufficie ntly 7 ° ~ . e 7 2} subliine to escort a character like you to the republic of dust in their ideas of erand- eur or of government here, the erave sis nevertheless a perfect } : } wWwWawar rm and ashes; for however men may dif Whli PAgth +e nat tl mMonare / Tal L. ¢ republic. Death is not the monarch of the dead, but of the TY . 7 « dying. The moment he obtains a conquest he loses a subject, and, like the foolish ] knight of the post. The former is your pattern for exploits, and the latter will ASSISt eats Fan Ob re amie poe nas) Ee No honc ary $itlint aah ¥ O17 En sevullng your accounts. O nonoral Litie COUIG De = ar Peete 2 ee: ye ee more happily applied 1 The ingenuity is sub lime : And your : L a Stes aay roys 11 mast Hest 1 discovered more genius in fitting YOu tl! ry 4] . ei % PN fai eA eto creas Cie Pegi with. vNnan in cenerating the MOSt finished Hnoure tor a outton, or discatit'2¢ on the properties of a button mould. But how, sir, shall we dispose of you? The invention of a statuary 1s exhausted, and Sir William is yet unprovided with a monument. America is anxious to bestow her funeral favors upon you, and wishes to do it in a manner that shall distinguish you from all the deceased heroes of the last war. ee Lgyp- tian method of embalming is not known to the present age, and ceEse RGSS RRS eFRa ESSE rate Pee a eerie ere e eee Seri ttt eters PBS egcer ge sede ees phe Sek es Pe Pts te 25 es sets heLesgs ih ok ee SYTELL ete Lar Pere ts es r¢iete eee z = + | Se0¢48 ee ees e tes tee THE CRISIS. BOIS of decy- be thought and post. 1 TAs | l~a + ht are Ja not annrecen ] writ} very lel a VV 1111aM, THANKS to AIS Stars, 1S not Oppressed WIitih Very Gelic f yY pmo ( Oo © 1 Fb rf) cLeas. He nas no amoi1bion Of bring wrapped up al id na Lod ed 1 —- ] . rN eC 7 pnlang +t} ‘ | y fr proposed, must break up the plans they had so foolishly cone Vv 1 and tian aAiv*icrw. 2 Sige 4 (ek a ey upon, and either oblige them to form a new one, tor which their present streneth is not suffi lent, or give over the attem SAT ser ey oe : a We never had so small an army to an opportunity of final success as now, The death wound 1S fight against, nor so fair > Sriclicl ir. cen ce y mm} Fear 4 tbe ye ie + TTX} already given. The day is ours if wetollowit up. The enemy 7 . pes: *, . . ie 7 - 7 = 4 : i e “ z by his situation, is within our reach, and by y his reduced ritain may their armies. Let them wrangle and welcome, but let it not draw our attention trom the one thing nee l > i oe } I strength is within our power. The ministers of ] aa 1 4] ul rage as they please, but our part is to conquer dful. Here, in this spot 1s our own business to be accomplished, our felicity secured, What we have now to do is as clear as licht, and the way to do it is as straight as a line. It needs not to be commented upon, yet, in order to be perfectly understood I will put a case that cannot admit of a mistake. Had the armies under Generals Howe and Burgoyne been united, and taken post at Germantown, and had the northern army under General Gates been joined to that under General Washington, at Whitemarsh, the consequence would have been a general action; and if in that action we had killed and taken the same number of officers and men, that is, between nine and ten thousand, with the same quantity of artillery, arms, stores, etc., as have been taken at the northward, and obliged general Howe with the remains of his army. that is, with the sam number he now commands, to take shelter in Philadelphia, we should certainly have thought ourselves the greatest heroes in the world; and should, as soon as the season permitted, have collected together all the force of the continent and laid slege to the city, for it requires a much greater force to besiege an enemy in a town than to defeat him in the field. The case now is just the same as if it had been produced by the means I have here supposed. Between nine and ten thousand have been killed and taken, all their stores are in our possession, and General Howe, in consequence of that victory, has thrown him- self for shelter into Philadelphia. He, or his trifling friend PRI ecrr veers Ft Teese etre Sree eee ei ood ot ke bee P29 Rese eede tees dmbeos bites ve peste ca cd eS eth | eae by SeF2. eg ees te Rete PET TE : Fh ok Pe rks atpTrittee ee ese tice: > | THE CRISIS. Galloway, may form what pretences they please, yet no just reason can be given for their going into winter quarters so early as the 19th of October, but their apprehensions of a efeat if they continued out, or their conscious inability of keeping the field with safety. I see no advantage which can arise to America by hunting the enemy from state tostate. It is a triumph withouta prize, and wholly unworthy the attention of a people determined to conquer. Neither can any state promise itself security while the enemy remains in a condition to transport themselves from one part of the continent to another. Hovve, likewise, -annot conquer where we have no army to oppose, therefore any such removals in him are mean and cowardly, and reduces Britain to a common pilferer. If he retreats from Philadelphia, he will be despised; if he stays, he may be shut up and starved out, and the country, if he ad- vances into it, may become his Saratoga. He has his choice of evils and we of opportunities. If he moves early, it is not only a sign but a proof that be expects no reinforcements, and his delay will prove that he either waits for the arrival of a plan to go upon, or force to execute it, or both; in which case our strength will increase roore than his, therefore in any case we cannot be wrong if we do but proceed. The particular concitioa of Pennsylvania deserves the attent- ion of all the other staces. Her military strength must not be estimated by the number of inhabitants. Here are men of all nations, characters, professions and interests. Here are the firmest whigs, surviving, hike sparks in the ocean, unquenched and uncooled in the midst of discouragement and disaffection. Here are men loosing their all with cheerfulness, and collecting fire and fortitude from the flames of their own estates. Here are others skulking in secret, many making a market of the times, and numbers who are changing to whig or tory with the circumstances of every dav. It is by mere dint of fortitude and perseverance that the whigs of this state have heen able to maintain so good a counte- nance, and do eveu whet they have done. We want help, and the sooner it can arrive the more effectual it will be. The invaded state, be 1t which it may, will always feel an additional burden upon its back, and be hard set to support its civil power with sufiicent authority: and this difficulty will rise or fall, in proportion as the other states throw in their assistance to the common cause,THE CRISIS. 129 The enemy will most probably make Many manceuvres at the opening of this campaign, to amuse and draw off the attention of the several states trom the one thing needful. We may expect to hear of alarms and pretended expeditions t and that place, to the southward ward, all intended to ree m a : body. The less the e 0 this place , the eastward, and the north- prevent our forming in nemy’s strengt] this kind will they make use of. it, because the force of America, swallow their present army up. ' It is therefore make short work of it, by bending our one principal point, for the instant t General Howe is defeated, all the inferior alarms throughout the continent, like go many shadows, will follow his downfall. The only way to finish a war with the least possible blood- shed, or perhaps without any, is to collect an army, against the power of which the enemy shall have no chance. By not doing this, we prolong the war, and double both the calamities and expenses of it. What a rich and happy country would America be, were she. by a vigorous exertion, to reduce Howe as she has reduced Burgoyne. Her Currency would rise to millions beyond its present value. Every man would be rich, and every man would have jt in his power to be happy. And why not do these things? What is their to hinder? America is her own mistress, and can do what she pleases: If we had not at this time a man in the field, we could, nevertheless, raise an army in a few weeks sufficient to over- whelm all the force which General Howe at present commands. Vigor and determination wil] do any thing and every thing, We began the war with this kind of spirit, why not end it with the same? Tere, gentlemen, is the enemy. Here isthe army. The interest, the happiness of all America, is centered in this half-ruined spot. Come and help us. Here are laurels, come and share them. Here are tories, come and help us to expel them. Hereare whigs that will make you welcome, and enemies that dread your coming. The worst of all policy is that of doing Penny wise and pound foolish has been the r The present spring, if rightly Improved, will free us from all troubles, and save us the expense of millions. We have now only one army to cope with. No Opportunity can be fairer; no VFospect more promising. I shall conclude this paper with a g. 9 to one formidable 1 is, the more subtleties of Their existence de 1 pends upon when collected, is sufficent to our business to whole attention to this hat the main body under things by halves, uin of thousands. SSESSSESCCAR GSS SES RIGS SEES G0t343 3283 Se oe ieee eer ee, ees SRE SESS CSE PMS ste aT a :s pee Ee seSererititttir eae lee et tie ke bt UE Mh OS SEIT ES PETE CE PS reas te ecitietei is ti Sele tree es S| erereret hee peal *ee are 130 THE CRISIS. few outlines of a plan, either for filling up the battalions with expedition, or for raising an additional force, for any limited Hime, On any sudden emergency. That in which every man is interested, is every man’s duty to support. And any burden which falls equally on all men, and LI from which every man is to receive an equal benefit, 1s consistent with the most perfect ideas of liberty. J would wish to revive something of that virtuous ambition which first called America into the field. ‘Then every man was eager to do his part, and perhaps the principal reason why we have in any degree fallen therefrom, is, because we did not set a right value by it at first, but left it to blaze out of itself, instead of regulating and pre- serving it by just proportions of rest and service. Suppose any state whose number of effective inhabitants was 80,000, should be required to furnish 3,200 men towards the defence of the continent on any sudden emergency. Ist, Let the whole number of effective inhabitants be divided into hundreds: then if each of those hundreds turn out four men, the whole number of 3,200 will be had. 2nd, Let the name of each hundred men be entered in a book, and let four dollars be collected from each man, with as much more as any of the gentlemen, whose abilities can afford it, shall please to throw in, which gifts likewise, shall be entered against the names of the donors. 3rd, Let the sums so collected be offered as a present, over and above the botnty of twenty dollars, to any four who may be inclined to propose themselves as volunteers; if more than four offer, the majority of the subscribers present shall determine which: if none offer, then four out of the hundred shall be taken by lot, who shall be entitled to the said sums, and shall either go, or provide others that will, in the space of six days. 4th, As it will always happen, that in the space of ground on which an hundred men shall live, there will be always a number of persons who, by age and infirmity, are incapable of doing personal service, and as such persons are generally possessed of the greatest part of the property in any country, their portion of service, thereofore, will be to furnish each man with a blanket, which will make a regimental coat, jacket, and breeches, or clothes in lien thereof, and another for a watch cloak, and two pair of shoes ; for however choice people may be of these things matters not in cases of this kind; those who live always in houses can find many ways to keep themselves warm, but it is a shameTUE CRISIS. 151 and a sin to suffer a soldier in the fic there is one in the country. Should the clothing not be wanted, the superannuated or infirm persons possessing property, may, in lieu thereof, throw in their money Subscriptions towards increasing the bounty ; for thouch age will naturally exempt a person from personal Service, it cannot exempt him from his share of the charge, be- cause the men are raised for the defence of property and liberty jointly. There never was a scheme a Id to want a blanket while gainst which objections might not be raised. But this alone is nota sufficient reason for rejection, The only line to Judge truly upon, is to draw out and admit all the objections which can fairly be made, and place against them all the contrary qualities, conveniences and advantages, then by striking a balance you come at the true character of any scheme, principle or position. The most material advantages of the plan here proposed are, ease, expedition, and cheapness; much larger bounty than is any wl all the expenses, extravagance, and consequent idleness of re- cruiting are saved or prevented. The country incurs no new debt nor interest thereon; the whole matter being all settled at once and entirely done with. It is a sul all the purposes of a tax, without either + of collecting. The men are ready for tl yet the men so raised get a lere at present given; because scription answering he charge or trouble 1e field with the greatest possible expedition, because it becomes the duty of the in- habitants themselves, in every part of the country, to find their proportion of men, instead of leaving it to a recruiting sergeant, who, be he ever so industrious, cannot know always where to apply. I do not propose this as a regular digested plan, neither will] the limits of this paper admit of any further remarks upon it, I believe it to be a hint capable of much improvement, and ag such submit it to the public. Common Sznsz. LANOASTER, March 21, L'78. pa eh er hake a oS Pret tT Per ee tt ty Te er E SST ae.THE CRISIS. NUMBER VI. TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE, GENERAL CLINTON, AND WIL- LIAM EDEN, ESQ., BRITISH COMMISIONERS, AT NEW YORK. THERE is a dignity in the warm passions of a whig, which is never to be found in the cold malice of a tory. In the one nature is only heated—in the other she is poisoned. ‘The ‘nstant the former has it in his power to punish, he feels a dis- position to forgive ; but the canine venom of the latter knows no relief but revenge. This general distinction wiil, I believe, apply in all cases, and suit as well the meridian of England as America. As I presume your last proclamation will undergo the stric- tures of other pens, I shall confine my remarks to only a few parts thereof. All that you have said might have been com- prised in half the compass. lt is tedious and unmeaning, and only a repetition of your former follies, with here and there an offensive aggravation. Your cargo of pardons will have no market—it is unfashionable to look at them—even speculation is at an end. They have become a perfect drug, and no way calculated for the climate. In the course of your proclamation you say, ‘The policy as well as the benevolence of Grea. Britain have thus far checked he extremes of war, when they tended to distress a people stil considered as their fellow subjects, and to desolate a country shortly to become again a source of mutual advantage.” What you mean by “the benevalence of Great Britain” is to me incon- ceivable. To put a plain question: do you consider yourselves men or devils? For until this point is settled, no determinate sense can be put upon the expression. You have already equalled, and in many cases excelled, the savages of either Indies, and if you have yet a cruelty in store you must have imported it, unmixed with every human material, from the original warehouse of hell To the interposition of Providence, and her blessings on our endeavors, and not to British benevolence, are we indebted for the short chain that limits your ravages. Remember you do not at this time, command a foot of land on the continent 0 America. Staten Island, York Island, a small part of LoIsland, and Rhode Island, circumscribe your ee and even those you hold at the expense of the West Indies. To avoid a defeat, or prevent a desertion of your pie you have taken up your quarters in holes and corners of : inaccessible security - and in order to conceal what every one can perceive, you now endeavor to Impose your weakness upon us for an act of mercy. Ifyou th 1ink to succeed by such shad are but infants in thes political of stratagein yet to lear n, and you have to contend with. v owy devices, you world: you have’ the A, B, C, are wholly ignorant of the people Like men in a state of intoxication. you forget that the rest of the world have eyes, and that the same stupidity which conceals you from yourselves exposes you to their satire and contempt. . : The par agraph which I Ede e qui ted, sta ands as an introduction to the following : “ But when thate ountry (America) professes the unnatural design, not only of estraz ging hers elf from us, but ot mortgaging herself and her resources to whole contest is chaz nged: and Britain m: ly, by every means in our enemies, the the question is how far Gres her power, destroy, or render useless, a connexion contrived fo} her ruin, and the accrandize- ment of France. Under such circumstances, the laws of self- preservation must direct the conduct of Britain, and if the British colonies are to become an accession to France, will dir- ect her to render that accession of as little avail her enemy.” I consider you in this declaration. lik hour of death. It contains likewise a frahale nt meanness; for, in order to justify a barbarous con slnaion! you have adva ce a false position. The treaty we have for med with France is open, noble and generous. It is true policy, founded as possible to 2 madmen biting 3 in the on sound philosophy, and neither a surrender or one as you would scandalously insinuate. I have seen every article, and speak from positive knowledge. In France. we have found an affec- tionate friend and soe ful ally; in Britain, we have found nothing but tyranny, cruelty, and infide ality. But the happiness is 1S, lias the mischief you threaten, is not in your power to execute; and if it were, the punishment would re- turn upon you in a ten-fold de gree. The humanity of America hath hitherto restrained her fro acts of retaliation, and the affec- tion she retains for many individuals in England, who have fed, clothed and comforted her prisoners, has, to fie present day, warded off her resentment, and operated as a screen to the THE CRISIS. 138 eS et eee S222959525+65345 J retry ee Lady SSSSE So essr eo stsritcssgcs ae a ESsrisstes 45 PeMitte sitese stati rata ee bt PT re ae mn Le '3%¢ b P Sy sisoseeceateteiat 13 THE CRISIS. whole. But even nase considerations must cease, when national objects interfere and oppose them. Repeated aggra- vations will provoke a eee and policy justify the measure. We mean now to take you se riously up upon your own grou nd and principle, and as you do, so shall you be done by. You ought to eee centlemen, that England and Scotland are far more exposed to incendiary desolation than America, in her present state, can possibly be. We occupy a country, with but few towns, and whose riches consist in land and annual produce. The two last can suffer but little, and that only within a very limited compass. In Britain it is otherwise. Her wealth ne chiefly in cities and large towns, the deposi- tories of mar ufactories and fleets of merchantmen.—There is r not a nobleman’s country seat but may be laid in ashes by a SDeIG person. Your own may probably contribute to the proof: in short, there is no evil which cannot be returned when one come to incendiary mischief. The ships in the Thames may certainly be as easily set on fire as the temporary bridge was a few years ago* yet of that affair no discovery was ever made; and the loss you would sustain by such an event, executed at a proper season, is infinitely greater than any you can inflict. The Bast India house, and the bank, neither are, nor can be secure from this sort oi destruction, and, aS Dr. Price justly observes. a fire at the latter would bankrupt the nation, — Jt has never been the custom of France and England, when at war. to make those havocs on each other, because the ease with which they could retaliate, rendered it as impolitic as if each had destroyed his own. But think not, gentlemen, that our distance secures you, or our invention fails us. We can much easier accomplish such a point than any nation in Europe. We talk the same language, dress in the same habits, and appear with the same manners as yourselves. We can pass from one part of England to another unsuspected ; many of us are as well acquainted with the country as you are, ands should you impolitically provoke us, you will most assuredly lament the effects of it. Mischiefs of this kind require no army to execute them. The means are obvious, and the opportunities able I hold up a warning to your senses, if you have any left, and “to the i people like- wise, W hose af aes are committed to you.’ I call not with the rancor of an enemy, but the earnestness of a friend, on aaa a a —~— a * i@aheral Clinton’s letter te Gongiess,THE CRISIS. the deluded people of England, lest, between your blunders and theirs, they sink beneath the evils contrived for us. ‘* He who lives in a glass house,” says a Spanish proverb, “should never begin throwing stones.” This, gentlemen, ig exactly your case, and you must be the most ignorant of man- kind, or Suppose Us So, not to see on which side the balance of accounts will fall. There are many other modes of retalliation, which, for several reasons, I choose not to mention. But be assured of this, that the instant you put your threat into execution, a counter-blow will follow it. Tf you openly profess yourselves savages, it is high time we should treat you as such, and if nothing but distress can recover you to reason, to punish will become an office of charity. While your fleet lay last winter in the Delaware, I offered my service to the Pennsylvania navy-board then at Trenton, as one who would make a party with them, or any four or five gentlemen, on an expedition down the river to set fire to it, and though it was not then accepted, nor the thing personally at- tempted, it is more than probable that your own folly will pro- voke a much more ruinous act. Say not when mischief is done, that vou had not warning, and remember that we do not begin it, but mean to repay it. Thus much for your savage and im- politic threat. In another part of your proclamation you say, “But if the honors of a military life are become the object of the Americans, let them seek those honors under the banners of their rightful sovereign, and in fighting the battles of the united British empire, against our late mutual and natural enemies.” Surely ! the union of absurdity with madness was never marked in more distinguishable lines than these. Your rightful sovereign, as you call him, may do well enough for you, who dare not inquire into the humble capacities of the man; but we, who estimate persons and things by their real worth, cannot suffer our judg. ments to be so imposed upon; and unless it is your wish to see him exposed, it ought to be your endeavor to keep him out of sight. The less you have to say about him the better. We have done with him, and that ought to be answer enough. You have been often told go. Strange! that the answer must be so often repeated. You go a begging with your king as with a brat, or with some unsaleable commodity you are tired of ; and though every body tells you no, no, still you keep hawking him about. But there is one that will have him in a vrs ald sadegsgaee SSSR eed Poder pS ee es | OS a OS as ieset te: eGeregsise ees heres Ses aeneces ei A 136 THE CRISIS. little time, and as we have no inclination to disappoint you of a customer, we bid nothing for him. The impertinent folly of the paragraph that I have just quoted, deserves no other notice than to be laughed at and thrown by, but the principle on which it is founded is detest- able. We are invited to submit to a man who has attempted and to join him in making war by every cruelty to destroy us, ly at war against him for our against France, who is alreac support. Can Bedlam, in concert with Luciter, form a more mad and levilish request? Were it possible a people could sink into such apostacy they would deserve to be swept from the earth “ke the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah. The proposition ‘s an universal affront to the rank which man holds in the who placed him there. it reation, and an indignity to him supposes him made up without a spark of honor, and under no ybligation to God or man. What sort of men or Christians must you suppose the \mericans to be, who, after seeing their most humble petitions insultingly rejected; the most erievous laws passed to distress them in every quarter; and undeclared war let loose upon them, and Indians end negroes invited to the slaughter; who, ifter seeing their kinsmen mu rdered, their fellow citizens starved to death in prisons, and their houses and property de- stroyed and burned; who, after the most serious appeals to heaven; the most solemn abjuration Ly oath of all government connected with you, and the most heart-felt pledges and pro- estations of faith to each other; and who, after soliciting the friendship, and entering into alliances with other nations, should it last break through all these obligations, civil and divine, by ‘complying with your horrid and infernal proposal? Ought we .ver after to be considered as a part of the human race? Or aught we not rather to be blotted from the society of mankind, nd become a spectacle of misery to the world? But there is something in corruption, which, like a jaundiced eye, transtiers -he color of itself to the object it looks upon, and sees every thing stained and impure; for unless you were capable of such conduct yourselves, you would never have supposed such a character in us. The offer fixes your infamy. It exhibits you ag a nation without faith; with whom oaths and treaties are considered as trifles, and the breaking of them as the br peaking of a bubble. Regard to decency, or to rank, might have taugh'THE CRISIS, 137 you better; or pride inspired you, though virtue could not, ‘Tnere is not left a step in the degradation of character to wh you can now descend; you have put your foot on the ground floor, and the key of the dungeon is turned upon you. That the invitation ‘ay want nothing of being a complete monster, you have though proper to finish it with an assertion which has no foundation, either in fact or philosophy; and as Mr. Ferguson, your secretary, is a man of letters, and has made civil society his study, and published a treatise on that subject, I address this part to him. In the close of the paragraph which I last quoted, France is styled the “natural enemy” of England, and by way of lugging us into some Strange idea, she is styled “the late mutual and natural enemy” of both countries. JT deny that she ever was a natural enemy of either: and that there does not exist in nature such a principle. The expression is an un- meaning barbarism, and wholly unphilosophical, when applied to beings of the same species, let their station in the creation be what it may. We havea perfect idea of a natural enemy when we think of the devil, because the enmity is perpetual, unalterable, and unabateable. It admits neither of peace, truce, or treaty; consequently the warfare is eternal, and there- fore it is natural. But man with man cannot arrange in the same opposition. ‘Their quarrels are accidental and equivocally created. They become friends or enemies as the change of temper, or the cast of interest inclines them. The Creator of man did not constitute them the natural enemy of each other. He has not made any one order of beings so. Even wolves may quarrel, still they herd together. at any two nations are so, then must all nations be so, otherwise it is not nature but custom, and the offence frequently originates with the accuser. England is as truly the natural enemy of France, as France is of England, and perhaps more so. Separated from the rest of Europe, she has contracted an unsocial habit of manners, and imagines in others the jealousy she creates in herself. Never long satisfied with peace, she supposes the discontent universal, and buoyed up with her own importance, conceives herself to be the object pointed at. The expression has been often used, and always with a fraudulent design; for when the idea of a natural enemy is conceived, it prevents all other in- quiries, and the real cause of the quarrel is hidden in the universality of the conceit. Men start at the notion of a ich SS Pon PPS Terese rere ars SteSigsesgerestisseiss Tee Py ee ite ete ape BBY < SEggwirsrsstpeetetsese fates ree Peas tere ere set ave4 Ss SUPeR ICEL PC et ee eS Phd PT 2 4 oT SetL EL eCee ee et eee re ir. ah. at Tae fe etgssce a PES Petite ee! Sizirs the hp od A CRISIS. 138 THE natural enemy, and ask no other question. The cry obtains credit like the alarm of a mad dog, and is one of those kind of tricks, which, by operating on the common passions, secures their interest through their folly. But we, sir, are not to be thus imposed upon. We live ina larce world, and have extended our ideas beyond the limits and prejudices of an island. We hold out the right hand of friendship to all the universe, and we conceive that there is a sociality in the manners of France, which is much better dis- posed to peace and negociation than that of England, and until the latter becomes more civilized, she cannot expect to live any power. Her common language is vul gar and offensive, and children with their milk suck in the rudiments of insult—“‘The arm of Britain ! The mighty arm ¢ Britain! Britain that shakes the earth to its centre and its poles! The scourge ot France! The terror of the world ! That governs with a nod, and pours down vengeance like a God.” This language neither makes a nation great or little; but it shows a savageness of manners, and has a tendency to keep national animosity alive. The entertainments of the stave are calculated to the same end, and almost every public exhibition is tinctured with insult. Yet England is always in dread of France. ‘Terrified at the apprehension of an invasion. Suspicious of being outwitted in a treaty, and privately cring- ing though she is publicly offending. Let her, therefore, reform her manners and do justice, and she will find the idea of a natural enemy, to be only a phantom of her own imagination. Little did I think, at this period of the war, to see a procla- mation which could promise you no other useful purpose what- ever, and tend only to expose you. One would think that you were just awakened from a four years’ dream, and knew no- thing of what had passed in the interval. Is this a time to be offering pardons, or renewing the long forgotten subjects of charters and taxation? Is it worth your while, after every force has failed you, to retreat under the shelter of argument and persuasion? Or can you think that we, with nearly half your army prisoners, and in alliance with France, are to be begged or threatened into submission by a piece of paper? But as commissioners at a hundred pounds sterling a week each, you conceive yourselves bound to do something, and the genius of ill fortune told you, that you must write. é For my own patt, I have not put pen to paper these several iong at peace with‘THE CRISIS. months. Convinced of our superiority by the issue of campaign, I was inclined to hope, that tha of the world now see, would | fore felt unwilling to ruffle your temper by fretting you with repetitions and discoveries. There have been in tervals of hesi- tation in your conduct, from which it seemed a pity to disturb you, and a charity to leave you to yourselves, , stopped, as if you intended to think ever been too early or too late. There was a time when Br You have often € ] ] t TONG ] hs | ta ha a <, but your thoughts have Dace ee itain disdained to answer, or even hear a petition from America. But that time is passed, and she in her turn is petitioning our acceptance. We now stand on higher ground, and offer her peace; and the time will come when she perhaps in vain, will ask it from us. The latter case is as probable as the former ever was, She cannot refuse to acknowledge our independence with greater obstinacy than she betore refused to repeal her laws; and if America alone could bring her to the one, united with France she will reduce her to the other. There is something in obstinacy which differs from every other passion; whenever it fails it never recovers, but either breaks like iron, or crumbles sulkily away like a frac- tured arch. Most other passions have their periods of fatigue and rest: their sufferings and their cure; but obstinacy has no resource, and the first wound is mortai. You have already be- gun to give it up, and you will, from the natural construction of the vice, find youselves both obliged and inclined to do so. If you look back you see nothing but loss and disgrace, If you look forward the same scene continues, and the close is an impenetrable gloom. You may plan and execute little mischiefs, but are they worth the expense they cost you, or will such par- tial evils have any effect on the generai cause? Your expedition to Ege-Harbor, wili be felt at a distance like an attack on a hen-roost, and expose you in Europe with a sort of childish phrenzy. Is it worth while to keep an army to protect you in writing proclamations, or to get once a year into winter quar- ters? Possessing yourselves of towns is not conquest, but con- venience, and in which you will one day or other be trepanned Your retreat from Philadelphia was only a timely escape, and your next expedition may be less fortunate. It would puzzle all the politicians in the universe to conceive what you stay for, or why you should have stayed so long. You are prosecuting a war in which you confess you have neither object i every at which all the resi become visible to you, and there- eo, rele ress arter teeters “FESS SPETES Seeger ess ss4e miseaiecdsbsdnde rs s ys areBeegeeigsigeiys tong 4 om pA * te & ~ ? * eee Re Re EL: Sees te bs EEE! 140 THE CRISIS, could it be effected, would not re- nor hope, and that conquest, ie rest of your affairs are pay the charges. In the meanwhile tl : running to ruin, and a European war kindling against you. In such a situation, there is neither doubt or difficulty; the first rudiments of reason will determine the choice, .or if peace can be procured with more advantages than even a conquest can be obtained, he must be an idiot indeed that hesitates. But you are probably buoyed up by a set of wretched mor- tals, who, having deceived themselves, are cringing, with the duplicity of a spaniel, for a little temporary bread. ‘These men will tell you just what you please. Tt is their interest to amuse, in order to lengthen out their protection. They study to keep you amongst them for that very purpose; and in proportion as you disregard their advice. and grow callous to their complaints, they will stretch into improbability, and season their flattery the higher. Characters like these are to be found in every coun- try, and every country will despise them. Common SENSE. PHILADELPHIA, Oct. 20th, 1778. NUMBER VII. TO THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND. THERE are stages in the business of serious life in which to amuse is cruel, but to deceive is to destroy ; and it is of little consequence, in the conclusion, whether men deceive themselves or submit, by a kind of mutual consent, to the impositions of each other. That England has long been under the influence of delusion or mistake, needs no other proof than the unex- pected and wretched situation that she is now involved in; and so powerful has been the influence, that no provision was ever made or thought of against the misfortune, because the possi- bility of its happening was never conceived. The general and successful resistance of America, the con- quest of Burgoyne, and a war in France, were treated in parliaraent as the dreams of a discontented opposition, or a distempered imagination. They were beheld as objects un- worthy of a serious thought, and the bare intimation of them afforded the ministry a triumph of laughter. Short triumph indeed! For everything which has been predicted has hap-THE CRISIS. 14] pened, and all that was promised has failed, polities so remarkably distinguished by a succession of mig- fortunes, without one alleviating turn, must certainly have something in it systematically wrong. It is sufficient to awaken the most credulous into suspicion, and the most obsti- nate into thought. Hither the means in your power are iusufficient, or the measures ill-planned; either the execution has been bad, or the thing attempted impracticable; or, to speak more emphatically, either you are not able or heaven is not willing. For, why is it that you have not conquered us? W ho, or what has prevented you? Youhave had every oppor- tunity that you could desire, and succeeded to your utmost wish in every preparatory means. ‘Your fleets and armies havc arrived in Ainerica without an accident. No uncommon mis- fortune have intervened. No foreign nation hath interfered until the time which you had allotted for victory was past. The opposition, either in or out of parliament, neither discon- certed your measures, retarded or diminished your force. They only foretold your fate. Every ministerial scheme was carried with as high a hand as if the whole nation had been unanunous. Everything wanted was asked for, and every- thing asked for was granted A long series of A. greater force was not within the compass of your abilities to send, and the time you sent it was of all others the most favorable. You were then at rest with the whole world beside. You had the range of every court in Europe uncontradicted by us. You amused us with a tale of the commissioners of peace, and under that disguise collected a numerous army and came almost unexpectedly upon us. The force was much greater than we looked for: and that which we had to oppose it with, was unequal in numbers, badly armed, and poorly disciplined; $ beside which, it was embodied only for a short time, and ex- pired within a few months after your arrival. We had govern- ments to form; measures to concert; an army to train, and every necessary article to import or to create. Our non-impor- tation scheme had exhausted our stores, and your command by sea intercepted our supplies. We were a people unknown, and unconnected with the political world, and strangers to the dis- position of foreign powers. Could you possibly wish for a more favorable conjunction of circumstances ? Yet all these have happened and passed away, and, as it were, left you with alaugh. ‘hey are likewise events of such an original nativity eer ey SISter Eee Per betes se plese: heeia tts f . S —s ee re eos ee lat hr eel a bs oe x Te : raters SPLIRTAL AGT EE SS set 3 ete SEE Ss ee Pere ee ee eSSLEs EST S,aeitti cs ia rset is. ~ f y 3 aA < to * = ar 2 Eee! ee beh ao Persrestizy. ToL e Pte - = » 7 . A PSEPSIC EL BES ES ET LESLIE: is 142 THE CRISIS. as can never happen again, unless a new world should arise from the ocean. [f anvthing can be a lesson to presumption, surely the ‘ ce > . ae wa ey yes e 1] have their effect. tad Britain teed circumstances of this war Wil heen defeated by any European power, consolation from the importance of her conquerors ; but she is excelled by those upon herself, become ae ee ies ea Ean ats i her pride would have draw Pree in the present case, ee E 1 . | Bem that she atftected .er own opinions retorting an aggravation of | Misfortune and experience are lost upon mankind, when they produce neither reflection nor reformation. Evils, like poisons, have their uses, and there are diseases which no other remedy can reach. It has been the crime and folly of England to suppose herself invincible, to CeSpise, and { f her disgrace. and that, without acknowledging or perceiving that a full third was drawn from the country she is now at Britain has been spoken of as the arm ate as if she thought of her strength war with. The arm of of the Almighty, and she has lived of | the whole world created for her diversion. Her politics, instead of civilizing, has tended to brutalize mankind, and ander the vain, unmeaning title of “ Defender of the Faith,” che has made war like an Indian against the religion of Her cruelties in the East Indies wil never be for- gotten; and 1t is somewhat remarkable that the produce of that ruined country, transported to America, should there kindle up a war to punish the destroyer. The chain is con- tinued, though with a mysterious kind of uniformity both in the crime and the punishment. The latter runs pé rallel with the former, and time and fate will give it a perfect illustration. When information 1s withheld, ignorance becomes a reason- able excuse; and one would charitably hope that the people of England do not encourage cruelty from choice but from mis- take. Their recluse situation, surrounded by the sea, preserves them from the calamities of war, and keeps them in the dark as to the conduct of their own armies. They see not, therefore they feel not. They teli the tale that is told them and believe it, and accustomed to no other news than their own, they re- ceive it, stripped of its horrors and prepared for the palate of the nation, through the channel of the “Tondon Gazette.” They are made to believe that their generals and armies differ from those of other nations, and have nothing of rudeness or barbarity in them. They suppose them what they wish them to be. They feel a disgrace in thinking otherwise, and naturally humanity.THE CRISIS. james pas ee Way encourage the belief from a partiality to themselves. There rat A eee ae tale “ ai was a time when [I felt the same prejudices, and reasoned aaa the same errors; but aigag sad and painful experience Be Le ol t e 1 ‘ WwW] i 1 e a 3 ? Ras tauchnt me petter. Nat the conduct Or rormer armies was, | know not, but what the conduct of the present is, I well , We ee : ] ] ] it is low, cruel, indolent and profligate: and hax he gate; and had th separation than what the y has occasioned, that alone is cause sufficient. r Z 3 3 . 7 ; lhe field of politics in England is far more extensive than that of news. Men have a right to reason for themselves, and ; the intelligence in the “ London zs : ee 7 a i - upon 1t what sentiments they pleass Fe 1e 7} . ist a ay 4 i : . But th fortune is, that a general ignorance has prevailed over the lil nation respecting America. 1 ‘he ministry and minority have both been wrong. ‘The former was always SO, the latter only lately so. Politics, to be executive ly right, must have a unity of means and time, vid a defect in either « over- throws the whole. le of America no other cause for though they cannot contradict Gazette,” they may frame The ministry rejected the plans of the min- ority while they were practicab le. and joined in them when they became impracticable. From wrong measures they got into wrong time, and have now completed the circle of ‘absurdity by closing it upon themselves, i happe iva to come to America a few months before the breaking out of hostilities. -- 1 found a disposition of the people such, that they might have: been led by a thread and eivebnied by a reed. Their suspicion was ¢ yuick and penetrat- ing, but 1 their attachment to Britain was Jastinane and it was at that time a kind of treason to speak against it. They dis- liked the ministry, but they esteemed the nation. Their idea of grievance operated without rese ntment, and their single obje ct was reconciliation. Bad as I believe the ministry to be, l never conceived them capable of a measure so rash and wicked as the commencing of hostilities; much less did I imagine the nation would encourage it. IJ viewed the dispute as a kind of lawsuit, in which I supposed the parties would find a way either to decide or settle it. I had no thou: ghts of independence or of arms. The world doula not then have e persuade ‘d me that I should be either a soldier or an author. Tf I had any talents for either, they were buried in me, and might ever have con- tinued so, had not the necessity of pedis drageed d and driven them into action. I had formed my plan of life, and conceiv- ing myself happy, wished every y body else so. But when the Eee velit ere aetey We ees shosiet24s*; EP EL VE YT UL Pee rrr ty. es eee BA hk 6 a peta 2 fst o reeecr eerevere nr’ See eet a ; : a i 3s re i Le al “s a 7 7 “9 ed d te : fd ‘ o PPSeT erie t: ere Ee Sethe Tee? he oa Ae 8, Te biee pel etlerece sy eseRei Se eres See ian car ee Sshadiasnocae teenies si >a id eet es a Te seSe ~~ . a te a 5 ave? o ci é ped 144 THE CRISIS. country, into which I had just set my foot, was set on fire about my ears, it was time to stir. It was time for every man to stir. Those who had been long settled had something to defend; those who had just come had something to pursue; and the call and the concern was equal and universal. For in a country where all men were once adventurers, the difference of a few years in their arrival could make none in their rights. The breaking out of hostilities opened a new suspicion in the politics of America, which, though at that time very rare, has since been proved to be very right. What I allude to is, “a secret and fixed determination in the British cabinet to annex America to the crown of England as a conquered country.” If this be taken as the object, then the whole line of conduct . though rash in its origin and ruinous pursued by the ministry heless uniform and consistent in in its consequences, is never? its parts. It applies to every case, and resolves every difficulty. But if taxation, or anything else, be taken in its room, there is no proportion between the object and the charge. Nothing but the whole soil and property of the country can be placed as a possible equivalent against the millions which the ministry ex- pended. No taxes raised in America could possibly repay it. ‘A revenue of two millions sterling a year would not discharge the sum and interest accumulated thereon, in twenty years. Reconciliation never appears to have been the wish or the object of the administration, they looked on conquest as certain and infallible, and, under that persuasion, sought to drive the Americans into what they might style a general rebellion, and then crushing them with arms in their hands, reap the rich har- vest of a general confiscation, and silence them for ever. The dependants at court were too numerous to be provided for in England. The market for plunder in the East-Indies was over ; and the profligacy of government required that a new mine should be opened, and that mine could be no other than America, conquered and forfeited. They had no where else to go. Every other channel was drained; and extravagance, with the thirst of a drunkard, was gaping for supplies. If the ministry deny this to have been their plan, it becomes them to explain what was their plan. For either they have abused us in coveting property they never labored for, or they have abused you in expending an amazing sum upon an incom- petent object. Taxation, as I mentioned before, could never be worth the charge of obtaining it by arms; and any kind of for-‘ISIS. 145 mal obedience which Americ have made, would have Ae = t} - ‘ E « weighed wi ith the lightness of a laugh against such a load i of expense. It is therefore Be ost probable that the ministry wil] at last ju stify their policy by their disho; hesty » and oj penly de- onquest ; and in this ¢; land to consider how would have been be nefited by the succ In a general vie w, there are few ae which repay the charse of making them, and mankind are pretty well convinced that it can never be wor th their while to sake. If they are made war upon, their Country invaded, or their existence at sta rke, it is their duty to defend and preserve themselves, but in every other ight, and from every 0 is war inclorious a and detestable. question— clare that their or iginal ae ign W as c it well becon nes the people of Ene nation 1 ase, i it far the ess, SO to war for Bren t’g other cause, 3ut to return to the case in When conc quests are made of foreig that the LOUMaT Ae and dominion of them are extended. But this could neither be the o the cons sequence of the € present war, commerce before. It could receive no possible addition by a conquest, but on the contrary, must diminish as the inhabitants were reduced in numbers Sad wealth. You had the same do- minion over the country which you used to have, and had no complaint to make against her for breach of any part of the contract between you or he -r, or contenc ding against any estab- lished custom, con imercial, political or territori al. The country ae commerce were both your own wher L you began to conquer, in the same manner and form as they eae been your own an hundred years before. Nations ha ve sometimes been induced to make conquests for the sake of re ducing the power of their enemies, or bringin g it to a balance with their Own. But this could be no part of your plan. No foreign authority was claimed here, ne ther was any such authority peapodasyt by you, or acknowledged or imagined by us. What ther countries, it is s1 upposed ga country which made object nor You en 1joyed the whole L in the name of he: BV en, cou ld you g0 tO war for Or wh: at chance could you possibly have in the event, but ome to hold the same country which you held before e, and that in a much worse to lose, with an amazing expense without a farthing of charges. War never can oa the interest of a trading nation, any more than quarrelling can be profitable to a man in busjz ness. a to make war with those who trade with us, 18 like setting 10 condition, or , what you might have retained Terror ee i Pettey eres. piece irs Sea ae Geascsdnke *Etsesshesses ae Rigegargee eBPeters PeETPuris retest! et rete} esas ae | $4 es sty PPSeee tt eT te he ed 7 Sio4 tt EL EES tl Per r? atti te - Seeeqeaeg eles sceiyss a eat itt paperPitteioee;. } 12s ep retamer af O t aes bull-dog upon & CUSLOMET a ) iO ) Lacs , OL a o pee TC By ‘@aw wr r h i) ay , nd + wi 1] avvly ommon sense SHOWS 1 tune Madailt IF TNE JALLCL, ALI U lil appry : e cg : Bee Be ati Et Pe 2 ns A> Pir Ln Witil the same rorce Or CONVICLION vO tne rormer. rat cali nNa- ; : ee Gils SeMeors eye eu, ae vlons having neitner commerce or commoditles OL tne ir own to © Lhe eS ia ata nev etcterara 1 q Lh ne y lad, ana iucre Ona J Ne 2 oe £ uite otherwise W1th Dri LO} time ¢ war, SOe CxDOst 1OY 4} 9 aha hac + L D nhanra Ot 4+ -J— y vic DN SNe iias voe Cnance OL tae 4. ¥ — =“ - ~ A - eentiemen In pari ' Bt aya A dtyegnda agcan anolocv a have mentione trade as an apology tor 4 . +1 he ores miserable politics incieed ! OF a , > ‘ ~ aan TAYr + us vuse it ought 4% reason ror ner no Li- America commands the W Vest-india tr Gat almost as efiectus Me as the coast of Africa Joes that of the Straits; and | Sngland can no more carry on the panne without the consent ot America, than she can the latter without a Mediterranean pass In whatever light the war with America is considered upon commercial prin .ciples, it is evidently the interest of the people of England not to Buppor it; and why it has been supported so long, against the clearest demonstrations of truth and national advantage, is to me, and must be to all the reasonable world, a matter of astonishment. Perhaps it may be said that I live in America, and write this from interest. ‘Co this I reply, that my ptinciple is u1 niversal. My attachment is to all the ore 1 Bae not to any particular part, and if what I advance is right, no matter where or who it comes from. We have given the pro- clamation of your commissioners a currency 1n our newspapers, nd IT have no doubt you will give this a place in yours. To oblige and be obliged is fair. Before I dismiss this part of my address, I shall mention one more circumstance in pias I think the people of Eng- land have been ec qually mistaken: and then proceed to geher matters. There is such an idea existing in the world, as that of national honor, and this falsely underst ood, is oftentimes the cause of war. Ina Christian and pas ysophical sense, mankind seem to have stood still at individual civilization, dnd to retain as nations all the original rudeness of nature. Peace by treaty is only a cessation of violence for a reformation of sentiment. It is a substitute for a principle that is wanting a and ever will be wanting till the idea of tee honor be rightly understoodTHE CRISIS, on RB o di viduals we profess ourselves Christians, but e he athens, Romans, and what not. I remember the late ca m ate saunders declari ing in the house of commons. and t] hat in the time of peace, ‘ That the city of Madrid laid in ashes was not a sufficient atonement { tor the S caniards taking off’ the idder of an Enclis} of war.” Td her ¢] rudder of an English sloop of war. 0 not ask whether this is C ee anity or morality: TL ask whether itis decency ? ? whether it is proper language for a nation to use? In private life we call it by the plain name of bullyi ing, and the elevation of rank cannot alter its character. Itis I thin] K, exceedingly easy to define what ought to Ne understood by national honor; for that which is the best charac ter for an individual is the best charac- ter for a na tion; and wherever the latter exceeds or falls be- neath the forme r, there is a departure from the line of true greatness. I have thrown out this observation with a design of ¢ applying it to Great Britain. Her ide as of national honc ir, seem dance 0} of that benevolence of heart, that universal] expansion of phil- ae opy, and that ti iumph over the rage of vuleg ear prejudice, hout which man is inferior to himself, and a companion’ of common animals. To know whom she shal regard or dislike, igion they profess th ey enjoy. Her aes of national co seems to consist a national insult, and that to be a great r, or a gentle- ? as nations 6 e i= A 2.8 ] 7 . | . - So o«xr hat she asks w ae country they are of, what reli and what prc Ait 1} ; +36 > 2 eS people, is to be neither a ¢ uristian, a@ phi man, but to threaten with the rudeness of a bear, and to devour with the ferocity of a lion. This perhaps may sound harsh and uncourtly, but it is too true, and the more i s the pity. TF mention this only as her general character. But towards America she has observed no character at all; and destroyed by her conduct what she assumed in her title. She set out AAUL ; epee 8 PE al wets arene with the title of parent, or mother country. ‘The association ot ideas which naturally accompany this expression, are filled with every thing that is fond, tender and forbearing. They ave an energy peculiar to themselves, and, overlooking the accidental attachment of common affections, apply with infinite softness to the first feelings of the heart. It is a political term which every mother can feel the force of, and ever y child can jadce of. Tt needs no painting of mine to set it off, for nature onlv can do it justice. Put has any part of your conduct to America corresvonded Wii. the title you set up? Ii in your general aoa char SEPESGES ESS secs Ft St Se hees eg sang sees sseeisieead or mppee ets eras Pe Pees Sag rit? Ses od Te) oe ee |ee a] eee sate S ee ere engine ste ied hea ererers te. aeieeesss 148 THE CRISIS. 4 ay a acter you are ul npolis! 1ed and severe, in this you are inconsistent and unnatural, and you must have exceeding false notions of "ie } : Ly pean : q are ck pelt is national honor, to suppose that the world can admire a want ot vr _ 2 . ~ Sues é 5 e humanity, or that national honor depends on the violence of resentment, the inflexibility of temper, or the vengeance ol execution. j ld vIhq n NY ry A 7 and 7 hs i x ry -} 92 WII ah Ll would wu lingly convince you, and that with as muchp temper as the times Ww ill suffer me to do, that as you opposea your own interest by quarrelling with us, so likewise your national honor, rightly conceived a1 was no ways called upon to enter into a war with America; had you studied true greatness of heart, the eee and fairest ornament of man- ky nd, you wou | rectly contrary to all that vou have done, and the world would have ascribed it to a generous l¢ | ¢ x7 } } 1} Jt (+t noh with the eacact: 1a oat caus be sid eQ@s Whicn ou Nada ( nouch Wilta tne assistance Ol hae ] by +] : Vo this coul try) secured a owerlt Ui Name DY the last war. YOu p were known and dreaded abroad; ne it would have been wise in you to have suffered the world to have slept undisturbed inder that idea. It was to you a force existing without expense. Tt produced to you all the advantages of real power ; and you were stronger through the univers ality of that charm, than any future fleets : and armies may probably make you. Your greatness was so secured and interwoven with your silence, that you ought never to have awakened ma ankind, and 1 had nothing to do but to be quiet. Verna you been true politi- ld cians you would have seen all this ;, and eres to draw from the magic of a name, the force and authority of a nation. Unwise as you were a “hbeuietne the han you were still more unwise in the manner of doing it. Samson only told the secret, but you have performed the operation; you have shaven your own head, and wantonly thrown away the locks. America was the hair from which the charm was drawn that infatuated the world. You ought to have quarrelled with no power; but with her upon no account. You had nothing to fear from any condescension you might make. You might have humored her, even if there had been no justice in her claims, without any risk to your reputation; for Kurope, fasci- nated by your fame, would have ascribed it to ager benevolence, and America, intoxicated by the grant, wow ave slumbered in her fetters. But this method of studying the progress of the passions, in order to ascertain the probable conduct of mankind, is a phil-THE CRISIS. 149 osophy in politics which those who preside at St. James’s have no conception of.’ They know no other influence than corrup- tion, and reckon all their probabilities from precedent. case is to them a new world, and while they are seeking for a parallel they get lost. The talents of Lord Mansfield ean be estimated at best no higher than those of a sophist. He understands the subleties but not the elegance of nature; and by continually viewing mankind through the cold medium of the law, never thinks of penetrating into the warmer the mind. As for Lord North, it is his hap him more philosophy than sentiment, for he bears flogging like a top, and sleeps the better for it. His punishment becomes his support, for while he suffers the lash for h himself up by twirling about. In politics, he is a good arith- metican, and in everything else nothing at all. : There is one circumstance which comes so much within Lord North’s province as : financier, that I am surprised it should escape him, which is, the different abilities of the two cot in supporting the expense: for, str land is not a match for a curious kind of revolution in accounts, the people of England seem to mistake their poverty for their riches; that is. they reckon their national debt ag a part of their national wealth. They make the same kind of error which a man would do, who after mortgaging his estate, should add the mon: y borrowed, to the full value of the estate, in order to count up his worth, and in this case he would conceive that he got rich by running into debt. Just thus it is with Englan¢ The government owed at the beginning of this war one aundied and thirty-five millions sterling, and though the individuals to whom it wag due, had a right to reckon their shares as so much private pro- perty, yet to the nation collectively it was so nuch property. There is as effectual limits to public debts as to private ones, for when once the money borrowed is so great whole yearly revenue to discharge the interest thereon, there is an end to further borrowing; in the same manner as when the interest of a man’s debts amounts to the yearly income of his estate, there is an end to his credit. This is nearly the case with England, the interest of her present debt being at least equal to one-half of her yearly revenue, so that out of ten millions annually collected by taxes, she has but tive that she can call her own A new region of piness to have in is sins, he keeps intries a e Z . ns oc, ar Sn re: + ange as 1t may seem, Eng- America in this particula) hal, . DY as to require the pester er er eres Steerer res £) rep eked See SIQsee7 aRgESSee tS 4 eye ee ee pee ye Eguesgereassseisissass gag se Spdbasmseisiessadedohec SEES SSeS s see si tere ers eres Se it te: mepe el ees Pol eae 1b eee ttt eet eta te rey ardre ette - . eee a ee re a t- 4 ioe ; me % Teri t ts aa * 7 PrUrerrri er ct tek StS ECT Cees Se OP . | ‘ ET eee et PLE ES! 7 Thi.’ oe — eiteta tie tterie eH : e eteiet 120 THE CRISIS. The very reverse of this was the case with America; she began the war without any debt upon her, and in order to carry it on, she neither raised money by taxes, nor borrowed it upon interest, but created it; and her situation at this time contin- ues so much the reverse of yours that taxing would make her rich, whereas it would make you poor. When we shall have sunk the sum which we have created, we shall then be out of debt, be just as rich as when we began, and all the while we feel no difference, because the value will rise are doing it shall lecreases. as the ae ( There was not a country in the world so capable ot venring the le of a war as America; not only because she was not in debt when she began, but because the country is young and capable of infinite improvement, and has an almost boundless tract of new lands in store; whereas England has got to her extent of age and growth, ha has no unoccupied land or pro- perty in reserve. The one is hike a young heir ‘coming toa large improvable estate; the other like an old man whose chances are Over, and his estate mortgaged for half its worth. In the second number of the Crisis, which I find has been republished in Eng] and, I endeavored to set forth the j imprac ticability of conquering America. I stated every case, that [ conceived could possibly happen, and ventured to predict its consequences. As my Pnclienes were drawn not artfully, but naturally, they have all proved to be true. LI was upon the spot; knew the politics of America, her strength and resources, and by a train of services, the best in my power to render, was honored with the friendship of the congress, the army and the the cause a just one. I know and feel it a just one, and under that cor ae e never made my own profit or loss an object. My endeavor was to have the matter well anderstood on both sides, and I conceived myself tendering a general service, by setting forth to the one the impossibility of being conquered, and to the other the impossibility of conquer- ing. Most of the arguments made use of by the ministry for supporting the war, are the very arguments that ought to have been used against supporting it; ce the plans, by which they thought to conquer, are the very plans in which they were sure to be defeated. They have taken everything up at the wrong end. Their ignorance is astonishing, and were you in my attuation you would see it. They may, perhaps, have your woe tence, but I am persuaded that they would make very eS T Re ee ey people. i considered a iTHE CRISIS. 15] indifferent members of congress. J know what England ig. and what America is. and from the compound of knowledge, am better enabled to Judge of the issue, than what the king or any of his ministers can be. In this number |] disadvantages of the war. have endeavored to show the ill policy aud I believe maiy of my remarks are so, I have studied to improve and place in a manner that may be clear and striking, is, I am persuaded, as certain as fate. é reach. She is at ] pendence neither new. ‘Those which are not Your failure America is above your cast your equal in the world, and her inde- ests upon your consent, nor can it be pre- vented by your arms. In short. you spend your substance in vain, and impoverish yourselves without a hope. But suppose you had conquered America, what adv antages, collectively or individually, as merchants, manufacturers, or conquerors, could you have looked for. This is an object you seemed never to have attended to. Listening for the sound of victory, and led away by the frenzy of arms, you neglected to reckon either the cost of the consequences. You must all pay towaras the expense; the poorest among you must bear his share, and it is both your right and your duty to weigh seri- ously the matter. Had America been conquered, she might have been parcelled out in grants to the favorites at court, but no share of it would have fallen to you. Your taxes would not have been lessened, because she would have been in no condi- tion to have paid any tow i ards your relief We are rich by a contrivance of our own, which would have ceased as soon ag you became masters. Our paper money will be of no use in England, and silver and gold we have none. , In the last war you made many conquests, but were any of your taxes lessened thereby? On the contrary, were you not taxed to pay for the charge of making them, and have not the same been the case in every war ? To the parliament I wish to address myself in a more particu- lar manner. They appear to have su pposed themselves partners in the chase, and to have hunted with the lion from an expecta- tion of a right in the booty; but in this it is most probable they would, as legislators, have been disappointed. The case is quite a new one, and many unforeseen difficulties would have arisen thereon. The parliament claimed a legislative right over America, and the war originated from that pretence. But the army is supposed to belong to the crown, and if America had ery Teer FSERSESS Poser tes Seer ee Ses ~ et <4 re Se Se tedeies PESe SS TSS STs 3 $e oresSECPae Li itet + vere anaes A eee —_ peeay SS SSC EARL ESSEC EL ESE Ce LL Say AT ahs cs eB Sait e a 152 THE CRISIS. been conquered through th eir means, the claim of the legisia- ture would have been suffocated in the conquest. Ceded, or conquered, countries are supposed to be out of the authority of exercised over them by prerogative nted to be done in the Granadas fe ason why it was not done was srior relinquishment of its parliament. Taxation is and not by law. It was attemfp a few years ago, and the only because the crown had made a pt Therefore, parliament have been all this while sup- for the establishment of their authority, in the same issue of which, they would have been triumy phed over by the pr eras This might have opened a new and interesting opposition between the parliament and the crown. The crown w i rave said that it conquered for itself, and that to conquer for parliament was an unknown case. The parliament mi ght | have re plied, that America not being a for- a country in rebellion, could not be said to claim. porting measures e1gn country, out | be conquered, but reduce d: and thus continued their claim by disowning the term. The crown might have rejoined, that snsidered at first, she became for- however America might be co elgn at last by a declaration of independence, and a treaty with , France: and that her case being, by that treaty, put within the law of nations, was out of the law of parliament, who might have maintained, that as their claim over America had never been surrendered, so neither could it be taken away. The crown might have insisted, that though the claim of parlia- ment could not be taken away, yet, being an inferior, it might be superseded ; and that, whe ther the claim was w athdveren from the object, or oe obje ct taken from the claim, the same separation ensuéd ; and that America being subdued after a treaty with K rance, was to all intents and purposes a regal con- quest, and of course the sole property of the King. The parlia- ment, as the legal delegates of the people, might have contended against the term ‘‘inferior,” and rested the case upon the anti- quity of power, and this would have brought on a set of very interesting and rational que stions. Ist, What is the original fountain of power and honor in any country ? 2nd, Whether the prerogative does not belong to the people? 3rd, Whether there is any such thing as the English con- stitution ! 4th, Of what use is the crown to the people ? | | |THE ORISIS. 153 Sth, Whether he who invented to mankind ? 6th, Whether it is not a shame for a man to spend a million a year and do no good for it, and whether the money might not be better applied ? 7th, Whether such a man is not better dead than alive? Sth, Whether a congress, constituted like that of 4 & crown was not an enemy America, is not the most happy and consistent form of government in the world ?—With a number In short, the contention « bout the dividend might have dis- tracted the nation ; for nothing is more common than to in the conquest and quarrel for the prize ; haps, a happy circumstance, t the dispute. If the parliament had been thro it is most probable they woul been thrown out in their expectation ; for as the taxes would have been laid on by the crown without the parliament, the revenue arising therefrom, if any could have arisen, would not have gone into the exchequer, but into the privy } of others of the same import. agree therefore it is, per- av our successes have prevented wn out in their claim, which d, the nation likewise would have Jurse, and so far from lessening the taxes, would not even have been added to them, but served only as pocket money to the crown. The more I reflect on this matter, the more I am astonished at the blindness and il] policy of my countrymen, whose wisdom seems to operate without discernment, and their object. To the great bulwark of the nation, I mean the mercantile and manufacturing part thereof, i likewise present my address. It js your interest to see America an independent, and not a conquered country. If conquered, she is ruined ; and if ruined. poor ; consequently the trade will be a trifle, and her credit doubtful. If independent, she flourishes, and from her flour- ishing must your profits arise. It matters nothing to you who governs America, if your manufactures find a consumption there. Some articles will consequently be obtained from other places, and it is right that they should ; but the demand for others will increase, by the great influx of inhabitants which a state of independence and peace will occasion, and in the final event you may be enriched. The commerce of America is per- fectly free, aud ever will be so. She will consign away no part of it to any nation. She has not to her friends, and certainly will not to her enemies, though it is probable that your narrow- strength without an Teter y Pere e ra ete eT 3 Se ot te inka ee a et es we Ly el Ve bs ire te MS ah ba | Meets as ioe ge A PTT TET TTT. to 7 . ey _ Cott ESE Ee ot itey s Se eto g) 154 THE CRISIS. minded politicians, thinking to please you thereby, may some other unnecessarily make such a proposal. Trade best when it is free, and it is weak policy to attempt to fetter it. Her treaty with France is on the most liberal and iciples, and the French, in their conduct towards generous prin her, have proved themselves to be philosophers, politicians and time or flourishes gentlemen. To the ministry I likewise address myself. You, gentlemen, have studied the ruin of your country, from which it is not within your abilities to rescue her. Your attempts to recover her are as ridiculous as your plans which involved her are detestable. The commissioners, being avout to depart, will and with it my sixth number addressed they carry back more ‘‘ Common and you likewise will have more probably bring you this io them; and in so doing Sense” than they brought, than when you sent them. Having thus addressed you séverally, I conclude by ad- dressing you collectively. It is a long lane that has no turn- A period of sixteen years of misconduct and misfortune, enough for any one nation to suffer under ; hat war is not declared between France line of conduct before you that will It has been hinted be- ing. is certainly long and upon a supposition t and you, 1 beg to place a easily lead you out of all your troubles. fore, and cannot be too much attended to. Suppose America had remained unknown to Europe till the and that Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander, in another voyage round the world, had made the first discovery of her, in the same condition that she +s now in, of arts, arms, numbers and civilization. What, I ask, in that case, would have been your conduct towards her? For that will point out what it a ought to be now. The problems and their sclutions are equal, present year, and the right line of the one is the parallel of the other. ‘The question takes in every circumstance that can possibly arise. thought, and is moreover @ mode It reduces politics to a simple e you are studying your interest of investigation, in which, whil the simplicity of the case will cheat you into good temper. You have nothing to do but to suppose that you have found America, and she appears found to your hand, and while in the joy of your heart you stand still to admire her, the path of politics rises straight before you. Were I disposed to paint a contrast, I could easily set off what you have done in the present case, against what you wouldTHE CRISIS. have done in that case, and } by justly opposing them, conclude a picture that would miele e you blush. But, oe when any of a prouder passions are hurt, it is much better Sialdee sophy to let a man slip into a good temper than to attack him in a bad one ; £ wn: +3 Bi ry el cers : ret + ! 4] for that reason, therefore, I only state the case, and leave you to reflect upon it. mm ee Tee Peele pe ge A ip React by Pp \ 1 lo go a little back into pol itics, it will be found that the true interest of Britain la yinpr op SIT is and p yromoting the inde pe nd- A ence of America imme dtd after the last peace; for the ex- pense which Britain had as her own dominions, ought to have shown a the policy and then incurred by defe nding America necessity of changing the style of the country, as the best pro- bable method of preventing future wars and expense, and the only method by which she could hold the commerce without the charge of sovereignty. Besides which, the title hieh she as- sumed, of parent country, led to, and pointed out the propriety, wisdom and advantage of a Separation ; for, as in private life, children grow into men, and by setting up for themselves, ex- tend and secure the interest of the whol le family, so in the set- tlement of colonies large enough to admit of matur ity, the same policy should be pursued, and the same consequences would follow. Nothing hurts the affections both of ae rents oo -hildren so much, as living too closely connected, and keeping up the distinction too long. Domineering will not do over teas. who, by a pro- gress in life, have become equal in rank to their parents, that is, when they have families of their own; and though they may conceive themselves the subjects of their advice, will not sup- pose them the objects of their government. I do not, by draw- ing this parallel, mean to admit the title of parent country, because, if rt is due anywhere, it is due to Europe collectively, and the first settlers from England were driven here by perse cution. JI mean only to introduce the term for the sake of policy, and to show from your title the line of your interest. When you saw the state of strength and opulenc e, and that by her own industry, which America had arrived at, you ought to have advised her to set up for herself, and proposed an alli- ance of interest with her, and in so doing you would have drawn, and that at her own expense, more pent advantage, and more military supplies and assistance, both of ships and men, than from any weak and wrangling government that you could ex- ercise over her. In short had you studied only the domestic politics of a family, you would have learned how to govern the etecesiics PSSST TA Ssre Pstgslsecipeasl, = Preere reer iets et ye eeissdbdehecesec: aS RA nS nS Rese: a SSCS EES eae bss «> Les ee ee eee ce ee 4amas a. ook Pere se dag itis teehe > | Tt. ae 8 a 156 THE CRISIS. state: but instead of this easy and natural line, you flew out : , : g : ci Sea ena eT aes into everything which was wild and outrageous, till, by follow- ing the passion and stupidity of the pilot, you wrecked the ves- sel within sight of the shore. . Having shown what you ought to have done, I now proceed The caterpillar circle of the not done. to pursue, distinct from, and opposed to ependence of America and an alli- oyewith, the trade would have continued, if not increased, as in many articles neither country can 80 to a better market, and though by defending and protecting herself, she would have been no expense to you, and consequently your national charges would have decreased, and your taxes might have been propor- yet the striking off so many places from the court calendar was put in opposition to the interest of the nation. ‘The loss of thirteen government ships, with their appendages, here and in England, is a shocking sound in the ear of a hungry courtier. Your present king and ministry will be the ruin of you; and you had better risk a revolution and call a congress, than be thus led on from madness to despair, and from despair to ruin. America has set you the example, and you may follow it and be free. I now come to the last part, a war with France. ‘This is what no man in his senses will advise you to, and all good men would wish to prevent. Whether France will declare war against you, 1s not for me in this place to mention, or to hint, even if L knew it; but it must be madness in you to do it first. The matter is come now to a full crisis, and peace is easy if willingly set about. Whatever you may think, France has behaved handsomely to you. She would have been unjust to herself to have acted otherwise than she did; and having accepted our offer of alliance, she gave you venteel notice of it. There was nothing in her conduct reserved or indelicate, and while she announced her determination to support her treaty, she left you to give the first offence. America, on her part, has exhibited a character of firmness to the world. Unprepared and unarmed, without form or government, she singly opposed a nation that domineered over half the globe. The greatness of the deed demands respect; and though you may feel resent- ment, you are compelled both to wonder and admire. Here I rest my arguments and finish my address. Such as 16 is, ib isa gift, and you are welcome. It was always my design to show why it was court had an interest yours ; for though, by the ind ance the! tionably lessened thereby ;to dedicate a Crisis to you, when th le time s] would properly make it a Crisis, and catch myself in a temper to wi dition to read it. That opportunity of conveyance. F or r th missioners / havine proclaimed, t shall be eee tented with their God, are re turning to their gourd. And al] that it may not wither about their t} THE CRISIS. 1 time has now arrived Lat “yet forty a 157 a aay should. come that when, likewise, I should rite it, and Suppose you in a con- ; and with it the 16 COMmnNn issioners—p CCF com- Lys and. direveh have ties out the date, and, discon- the harm I wish them is ears, and that they may whale. PHILADELPHIA, Wov. 21, 1778. th not make their exit in the belly of a PS. —Though in the tranquility of my mi cluded with a laugh, yet J have somet} ing to COMMASSIONETS, which, to them, is serious tention. Their aa hie ity is derived fron which likewise describes and limits their official commission, therefore, is only of those powers, or a nomination and descripti who are to execute them. to, or gone beyond the line of, the written law from sera -h itis derived, and by which it is bound, it would, by the English constitution, have been treason in the crown, an sul yject to an impeacl hment. He dared not, his commission what you have put in your Had it contained an. , he dared not have authorised you in that burn and dest roy any thing in Ameri ica. You a act and in the commission sty led convmi peace, and the method for doing it are Aa Common Sense case nd I have con- mention to the and Ww orthy their at- 1 an act of par lament, powers. ‘Their a recital, and personal investiture, ion of the pe rons ything contrary d the king been. therefore, put in proclams ation, that commission to re both in the s20ners Jor restoring pointed out. Your last proclamation is 5 slone d by you as Cc yMmissioners unc ler tne act. You make parliament: the patron of its contents. of it, you insert matters contrary both to the sp of the act, and what likewise your king dared not have » put in The state of things i in England, centle- his commission to you. meh, is too ticklish for you to run hazards, Yet,in the body irit and letter Your are accownt- . a a A 7 ], able to parliament for the execution of that act according to the letter of at. Your heads may pay for breaking it, for you certainly have broke it by exceeding Lt And as a friend, who wens wish you to escape the paw of the lion, as well as the Selly of the whale, I civilly hint to you, to keep within compass, Sasgrstori st; ae dea tee te = SA olga PEELED ook LoSeeat hice Hei ee da ee a myc eT Peo re ee state ete sqee : i. fchteseees +tag age Tire 153 rest; for thoug! THE CRISIS. Sir Harry Clinton, ing, 1S as accountable as the h a general, he is lkewise a commissioner, acting 1ce 1s due to the uperior authority. 11s ursi TO 1 Ges be e ; eee SAS em q ee : act: and his plea OL being a general, Wil! not and cannot cieal strictly speak 1 nhacie} under a ach a for that would suppose the crowh 1 : Bilas os » wart at ave a power OF Gin nsing W ith an act 2 1 . se * oan ye ntiemen, 1S nice and cl itical, Sewn [Take heed : phim as a comMIssloue yr sltuavlou, = o Th Ti fe aa e Fi pee ee Hneland LS unsettied. USE . “i : cL ' Tr r See e ¢ Charles the first! for Laud and Stat- $0 a2 nope bee yYours. = A _ 7 ra a . om Having thus shown you the danger or your proclamation, [ LOW show you the folly of i The means contradict your desion: you threaten to lay waste, in order to render America a useless acquisition of alliance to France. I reply, that the it) the more vou could do it alliance. You can destroy vou increase our d more destruction you commit (if valuable to France you make that only houses and goods, and by so doing materials and mercnandise ; for the wants rovided it has freedom and credit, naturally produces riches to the other; and, as | the vegetation, you would increase the exporta- ‘ment. which would be to her a new 1 you cast about for a plan or short, had you could not have hit upon a e- mand upon her for of one nation, fF as you can neither ruin the land nor prevent tion of our produce in pay fund of wealth. In yurpose to enrich your enemies, t better. Cc. S, NUMBER VIII. ADDRESSED TO THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND. “Tpustine (says the king of England in his speech of No- vember last) in the divine prov idence, and in the justice of my cause, | am firmly resolved to prosecute the war with vigor, and to make every exertion in order to compel our enemies to odation.” To this declara 1d the confederated powers equitable terms of peace and accomm« af Britain will have war, she shall have tion the of Europe will reply, enough of vt. Five years have nearly elapsed since the commencement of hostilities, and every campaign, by a oradual decay, has lessened your ability to conquer, without producing a serious thought on United States of America, atTHE CRISIS. your condition or your fate. Like a habitual consum1 potion, you feel the relies of life, and mistake nem tor recovery. New schemes, like new medicines, have . pt VIS Aya ec he me ‘ 1 Nn! WON FA teen ee 1aministered tresh h Opes, ana prolonged the disease in steed of Fs : prodigal lingering in an 2319197 4 x = Cur Inge 1G, A. cnhange e 1 . I generals, like ( physicians, served only to keep the flattery alive, and furnish new pretences tor a new extravagance, “Can Britain fail?”* has be en proudly asked : at the under aking Ot every enter pr ise : and that « whate ver she wills is fate,” has been given with the solemnity of prophetic nounced and though the question has been co1 istantly c Bae to by disap- polintment, aud the prediction fas ted by misfortune, yet still the insult continued, and vour state of Peel evils in- creased therewith. Eager to persuade the world of her power, she considered destruction as the minister of greatness, and con- ceived that the glor y of a nation, like that of an Indian, lay in the number of its scalps and the miseries which it inflicts, Fire, sword and want, as far as the arms of Britain could extend them, have been spread with wanton cruel ty along the coast of America; and while you, remote from the scene of suffering, had nothing to lose and as little to Gicad the informa- tion reached you like a tale of antiquity, in which the distance of time defaces the conception, and changes the severest sor- rows into conversable amusement. This makes the second paper, addressed perhaps in vain to the people of England. That advice should be taken wherever example has failed ; or precept be regarded where warning is ridiculed, is likea picture of hope resting on despair; but ie time shail stamp with univers sal currei icy the ‘fac é you have long encountered with a laugh, and the irresistible evidence of accumulated losses, like the hand writing on the wall, shall add terror to distress, you will then, in a conflict of suffering, learn to sympathise With others by feeli ing for yourselves. The triumphant appearance of the combined fleets in the channel and at your harbor’s mouth, and the expedition of captain Paul Jones, on the western and eastern coasts of Eng- land and Scotland, will, by placing you in the condition of an endangered country, reed to you a stronger lecture on the calami- ties of invasion, and bring to your minds a truer picture of pro. -W Wibahondes new-year’s aie for 1776. + Ode at the installation of Lord North, for Chaxcellor of the university of Oxfard. Pi cies shat ceeds s Pe er ee oy re) ee? ebieeeLatcer rier es ee ey Stic SiSPSttsigseiaégss eet eS meeed oho seg Pete ge sree ieee xPore TTP eri er Soe rs 4 Si STES eR ER EA REREAD be x SEL aE SS TEL EL ES eet er reir se te! 2 sieiaeicc aiobete akc earees aa oy 160 THE CRISIS. miscuous distress, than the most finished rhetoric can describe or the keenest mnaeinaon conceive H itherto you have ex perience i: the ¢ -xpenses, but nothing of the miseries of war. Your disappointments have been accompanie cl with no ened e suffering, ae your losses came to you ol amty by intelligence. Like fire ata distance you heard not even th ery; you felt not the danger, you Saw not the confusion. To you everything has been fore sion but the taxes to support pt You knew not what it was to be alarmed at midnight with an armed enemy in the streets. Vou were strangers to the dis- tressing scene of a family in oe it, and to the thousand restless cares and tender sorrows that incessa ntly arose. To see women and children wandering in et severity of winter, with the broken remains of a we iL furni ae house, and se eking shelter in every crib and hut, were ms utters that you had no conce] ption of. You knew not what it was to stand by and see your coods chopped for fuel, and your beds ripped to pieces to make pack- ages for plunder. The misery of others, like a tempestuous night, sated .o the pleasures of your own se curity. You even enjoyed the storm, by contemplating the difference of conditions, and that which carried sorrow into the breasts of thousands, served but to heighten in you a species of tranquil pride.—Y et these are but the fainter suffer ings of war, when compared with carnage and slaughter, the miser ies of a military hospital, or a town in flames. The people of America, by anticipating distress, had fortified their minds against every species you could inflict. T hey had resolved to abandon thelr - avn to resign them to destru: ction, and to seek new settlements rather than submit. Thus famila ‘zed to misfortune, before it arrived, they bore their ae, with the less regret: the } BS tness of their cause was a continual source of consolation, an dit he hope of final victory, which never left them, served to lighten the load and sweeten the cup al- lotted en to drink. But when their troubles shall become yours, and invasion be transferred upon the invaders, you will have neither their ex- tended wilderness to fly to, their cause to comfort you, nor their hope to rest upon. Distress with them was sharpened by no self-reflection. They had not brought it on themselves. On the contrary, they had by every proceeding endeavored to avoid it, and had descended even below the mark of congressional character, to prevent a war. The national honor or the advant-THE CRISIS. 161 ages oF Independence were matters, which at the commence- had never stu; died, and it was only the measure they naturally and conscientiously felt dence upon proy ide: 1 They had a clear had hey failed tise, infide slity h But your conditi the dispute, ioe ; fhe laSt Mome}] 1D that cumstan ced, at Was resolv eden. | Thusi cit. a depen- Dhan to it, and ad gained a 2 triumph, on is the reverse of t theirs. FE verything vou suffer you have sou cht: nay ; h: ad you cre: uted purpose to inherit the Mm, you could by a firmer deed. The world complaints. You felt hone for others: ; you yourselves. Nature does not interest hee rself in cases like + yours, but, on the contrary, turns from them with dislike, and aban- dons them to punishment, You may now present memorials to what court you please, but so far as America is the object, none will listen, The policy of Europe, and the propensity there in Every mind to curb insulting ambition, and bring cruelty to judgment, are unitedly against you; nature and interest reinforce each other, intimate to be dis ssolved. Make but the ¢ aise of others your Own, and your own theirs, and you will then have a . clear idea of the whole. Had France acted to wards her calbites as you have done, you would hae branded her with every y epithet of a bhorrence and had you, like her, Stepped in to succour ; « Struggling people, al] Europe must have echoed Pomen your own a oP Buses But entangled in the passion of dispute, you see it not as you ought, and form opinions thereon aia sult wi ‘th no _Interest I You wonder that America doe impose on herself a portion mischiefs on a not have sec sure] your title awakens with no pity at your i deserve none for and where the compact is too but your own. 2 In union with you to of your feces and reduce herself to unconditional submission. You are amazed that the south- ern powers of } Zurope do not assist you in conquering: which is after wards to be turned against themselves: and that the northern ones do not contribute " reinstate youin America who already enjoy the market for naval] stores by You seem surpri ised ae Holland nics not to maintain you mistress of the seas, is suffering by your a country the separation. pour in her ¢ succors, when her own commerce act of navigation; or that any country should study her own interest while yours is on the carpet. Such excesses of passionate folly, and unjust as well as un- wise resentment, have driven you on, like Pharaoh, to unvitied miseries, and while the importance. of the quarrel shall per- u ” x Leet ca reer T Terr ee ery Pe Se ee ees eee TESS Fy ah iad Sakae sal Ege te) po eee ed be oy > CTT EE LE OF OF CY a Pe SESS Ee SRALTEVE LAGS IESE Pe Pt ts tere tes b wi tLe See es Pee 4 ak oh reeaseaEhaaie ey, reeTeeeet eee ss te eee eas eres erie PeT aes! 4 eb} bbe ieE as roo hte ES TTT ttre ss eet 4 $5Si5E4545 233 162 THE CRISIS. petuate your dis SgTace, the flag of America will carry it round | feelings of every ration al being will J] the world. The natural fe be against you, and wherever the story shall be told, you wi have e neither excuse nor consolation left. With an peas hs and, and an insatia ‘ble mind, you have aera the world, to gain dominion and to lose it; and while, in a frenzy of avarice and ambition, the east and the west are pees to tributary bondage, you -apidly earned destruc ‘tion as the wages Or 2 pation. At the thoughts of a war at home, every man amongst you ous eS to tremble. The prospe ct is far more dreadful there than in America. Here the party that was against the mea- sures of the continent were in general composed of a kind of neutrals, who added strength to neither army. There does not exist a being so devoid of sense and sentiment as to covet “aunconditional submission,” and therefore no man in America could be with you in principle. Seve al might from cowardice of mind, prefer it to the haciattie and dangers of opposing it; but the same uate that gave them such a choice, unfitted them to act either for or against us. But England is rent into parties, with equal shares ‘of resolution. ‘The principle which produced the war divides the nation. Their animosities are in the highest state of fermentation, and both sides, by a call of the militia, are in arms. No hums un foresight can discer n, no conclusion can be formed, what turn a war ‘might take, if once set on foot by an invasion. She is not now in a fit disposition to make a common cause of her own affairs, and having no con- quests to hope for abroad, and nothing but expenses s arising at home, her everything is staked upon a defensive combat, and the further she goes the worse she is off. There are situations that a nation may be in, in which peace or war, abstracted from every other consideration, may be politically right or wrong. When nothing can be lost by a war, but what must be lost without it, war is then the policy of that country; and such was the situation of America at the © ‘mencement of hostilities; but when no security can be gained by a war, but what may be accomplished by a peace, the case becomes reversed, and such now is the situation of Eng- land. That America is beyond the reach of conquest, is a fact which experience has shown and time confirmed, and this ad- mitted, what, I ask, is now the object of contention ¢ If there Oo e } &be any honor in pursuing self destruction with inflexible passion —if national suicide be the perfection of national glory, you may, with all the pride of criminal happiness, expire unenvied and unrivalled. But when the tumult of war shall cease, and the tempest of present passions be succeeded | by calm reflection, or when those, who, survivi ing its fury, a legacy of debts ead misfortunes, shall scarcely | 9e able to dischar no possible remedy be left for ¢ from the present, will arise shall inherit from you Ww Des the yearly revenue he interest of the one, and the other, ideas, far different , and imbitter the remembranze of former follies, ‘A mind disarmed of its rage, feels no pleasure in contemplating a frantic quarrel. Sickness of thought, the sure consequence ae like yours, leaves no a bility for enjoyment, no relish for resentment: and ee seh like a man in a fit, you feel not ae injury of the str uggle, nor distinguish between strength and disease, the weakness will nevertheless be propor tioned to the violence, and the sense of with the discoy ery. o* 5§ pain increase To what persons or to whose system of politic S you Owe your present Sate of wretchedness. is a matter of tota ul il diffe rence to America. They have contr buted, however, unwill ngly, to set her above themsel ives, and she, i the tranqu alee of. con- quest, resigns the inquiry. ‘The case now 1S not so > PEQpeny who began the war, as who continues it. That there are men in all countries to whom a state of war 1S &2 mine ra wealth, is a fact ne fut» ever to be doubted. Characters like these n aturally breed in the putrefaction of distem) pered times, and after fatten-- , Or, 1m) pregnated with AK ing on the ee ase, they perish with it the stench, retreat into obscurity. But t ae are several erroneous neyons to which you like- wise owe a share of your misfortunes, and w hich, if continued, will only increase your trouble and your losses. An opinion hangs about the gentlemen of the n rity, that America would relish measures under their net: inistratio Y LL i would not from the present cabinet. On this roc] ham would ee split had he gained al , which she uord Chat- the te and several of his survivors are ste ering the same cours Such distinctions in the infancy of the argument had some ae ee of foundation, but they now serve no other purpose than to lengthen out a war, in which the limits of a d ispute being fixed by the fate of arms, and guaranteed by treaties, are not to be changed or altered by trivial circumstances. THE CRISIS. 163 eB : ee FPeG dros ssistesksti gi Pet cere a rer too Chet ere ee ee ee eee pre ee er Sey Slesers. aS el PFET PS oF erry es ee co pee ert os 2k by pes pee SSE x ee Le pes oe sePPStsr tisk: Ta... Seek) | > * SeCVitiNes tee eee tL PL he Re] 164 The ministry, and many of the min ority, sacrifice their time i disputing on & question with which they have nothing to do, 1amely, whether Amer! ica shall be indepen lent ornot? Whereas we only questi t can come under their determinatlon 1S, whether they le to it or not? They confound a mili- tary auestion jlitical one, and undertake to supply by vote what the battle Say. she shall not be ind pendent, ana 1 ty LS nuch as if they voted against deeree of faith, 1at she a ind she will be no mort independent than | Questions, which when dete rmined, cannot = execute ted, s serve on ily te show the folly of dispute and 4 iv? A oa a ‘ as 3 bey rt bit of calling America your Own, you suppose he 1 } | \ k A the same prejudices and conceits whl ; yV s SAE eyes tnd cover! yo use | VES. Bec ause you nave se ) f f all others, you imagine | i nomin atior 1 OF religio > wit , an unsoc 16 ab le ar- y ki : 1 she must do the same, and | because you, -owness of mind, have cherished enmity against France and Spain, you suppose her alliance must be defective in friendshi notions of the world from you, she former feeling ‘herself free, and and acts upon a different ip. Copying her ly thought as you instructed, but now the prejudices removed, she thinks system. It frequently happens tl countries, not knowing why, we 1at In proportion as we are taught to dislike persons and feel an ardor of esteem upon the re noval of the mistake: it seems as if something was to be made amends for, and we eagerly give in every office of friendship, to atone for the injury of the error. But, perhaps, Ww hich. among the gene srality of the peopl cates extension of the mind. ‘The soul of an islander ia its native state, seems bounded by the foggy confines of the water’s edge, and a all beyond affor ds to him matters only for profit or curiosity, not for friendship. His island is to aA his world, and fixed at that, his everything centres in it ; while those, who are inhabitants of a continent, by casting their eye over a larger field, take in likewise a larger ntalivenal circuit, and thus approaching nearer to an acquaintance with the universe, their atmosphere of thought is extended, and their liberality fills a wider space. In short, our minds seem to be phenired by countries when we are men, as they are by places when we are there is something in the extent of countries, e, insensibly communi-THE CRISIS. QQ pny fp 165 children, and until Something happens to disentangle us from the prejudices, we serve under it without perceiving it. be remarked, that men who study the principles of y hich are univ ersally » and applied without distinction to the common benefits of al] countries, obtain thereby a lar of ph lantrophy than those who only study national improvements, Natural philosophy, mathematics and astro- nomy, carry the mind from the country to the creation. and give it a fitness suited to the extent. It was not Newton’s honor, neither could it be his pride, that he was an Englishman, but that he was a philosopher; the heavens had liberated him from nd science had expande In addition to this, it mav any universal science, | known, or admitted cer share cq arta 9} -] arts and the prejudices of an island, a d his soul as boundless ag his studies, Common Sensz. PHILADELPHIA, March, 1780, NUMBER Ix. Hap America pursued her adv: that she resisted her misfortr been a conquering and a peaceful people; but lulled of soft tranquillity, she rested on her hopes has convulsed her into action. W] at the close of the last ance for peace, is a point not material to know: that we see the effects it antages with half the spirit ines, she would, before now, have in the lap , and adversity only ether su btlety or Sincerity year, induced the enemy to an appear- it is sufficient has had on our politics, and that we sternly rise to resent the delusion. The war, on the part of A merica, has been a war of natural feelings. Brave in distress - serene in conquest ; drowsy while uation generously dispose dangerous claim, and a most heightened stances varied, succeeded each other of despair, has been called to a tour of has been the enemy, of our abi at rest; and in every sit to peace. A zeal, have, as circum- divery passion, but that duty ; and so mistaken lities and disposition, that when she supposed us conquered we rose the conquerors. The ex- tensiveness of the United States, and the variety of her re- sources; the universality of their cause, the quick operation of their feelings, and the similarity of their sentiments, have, in every trying situation, produced a something, which, f ravored by providence, and pursued with ardor, has accomplished in an 265854 52 SR2455 3752 roe eet te Pee ee yee cas TET eee Pee eT Meg Sg tae e Ser abe es rsseabed SRR ie alti eg sought victory, 166 THE CRISIS. ssofacampaign. We have never deliberately ut snatched it: and bravely undone in an hour, the blotted operations of a season. The reported fate of Charleston, like the misfortunes. of 1776, has at last called forth a spirit, and kindled up a flame, which perhaps no other event could have produced. If the enemy has circulated a falsehood, they have unwisely aggrava- ted us into life, and if they have told us a truth, they have unintentionally done us a service. We were returning with folded arms from the f: atigues of war, and thinking and sitting leisurely down to enjoy repose. The depe sndence that has been put upon Charleston threw a drowsiness over America. We looked on the business done—the conflict over—the matter settled—or that all which remained unfinished would follow of itself. In this state of dangerous relaxation, exposed to the poisonous infusions of the enemy, and having no common dan- ger to attract our attention, we were extinguishing, by stages, the ardor we began with, and surrendering by piece-meals the virtue that defended us. Afflicting as the loss of Charleston may be, yet if it univer sally rouse us from the slumber of twelve months past, and renew in us the spirit of former days, it will produce an ad- vantage more important than its loss. America ever 2s what she thinks herself to be. Governed by sentiment, and acting her own mind, she becomes, as she pleases, the victor or the victim. [t is not the conquest of towns, nor the accidental capture of garrisons, that can reduce a country so extensive as this. The sufferings of one part can never be relieved by the exer- there is no situation the enemy can be placed in, that does not afford to us the same advantages he seeks himself. By dividing his force, he leaves every post attackable. Itis a mode of war that carries with it a confes- sion of weakness, and goes on the principle of distress, rather than congu uest. The decline of the enemy is visible, not only in their opera tions, but in their plans; Charleston originally made but secondary object in the system of attack, and it is now become the principal one, because they have not been able to succeed elsewhere. It would have carried a cowardly appearance In Europe had they formed their grand expedition, in 1776, against apart of the continent where there was no army, or not a instant the busine 7 { tions of another, andTHE CRISIS. 167 sufficient one to oppose them; but tailing year after year in their impressions here, and to the eastward and northward, they deserted their capital design, and prudently contenting themselves with what they could get, give a flourish of honor to conceal disgrace. But this piece-meal work is not conquering the continent, It is a discredit in them to attempt it, and in us to suffer it. It is now full time to put an end to a war of ageravations, which, on one side, has no possible object, and on the other, has every inducement which honor, interest, safety and happi- ess can inspire. If we suffer them much longer to remain among us, we shall become as bad as themselves. An asgsocia- tion of vice will reduce us more than the sword. A nation hardened in the practice of iniquity knows better how to profit by it, than a young country newly corrupted. We are not a match for them in the line of advantageous guilt, nor they for us on the principles which we bravely set out with. Our first days were our days of honor. They have marked the charac- ter of America wherever the story of her wars are told: and convinced of this, we have nothing to do, but wisely and unitedly tread the well-known track. The progress of a war is often as ruinous to individuals, as the issue of it is to a nation; and it is not only necessary that our forces be such that we be conquerors in the end, but that by timely exertions we be secure in the interim. The present campaign will afford an opportunity which has never presented itself before, and the preparations for it are equally necessary, whether Charles. ton stand or fall.. Suppose the first. it is in tha case only a failure of the enemy, not a defeat, All the conquest that a besieged town can hope for, is, not to be conquered; and com- pelling an enemy to raise the Seige, is to the besieged a victory But there must be a proba bility amounting almost to certainty, that would justify a carrison marching out to attack a retreat, : Therefore should Charleston not be taken, and the enemy abandon the seige, every other part of the continent should prepare to meet them; and, on the contrary, should it be taken, the same preparations are hecessary to balance the loss, and put ourselves in a condition to co-operate with our allies im- mediately on their arrival. We are not now fighting our battles alone, as we were in 1776; England from a malicious disposition to America, has ot onlv not declared war against France and Spain, but the oe Led he ee eee Te eee SS eee ee ES ek er Leet Poet tT ee oats ot ae eo tea!ice setae ee iote Pea 168 THE CRISIS. better to prosecute her passions here, has Bache those powers no military object, and avoids them, to distress us. She will suffer her West India islands to be overrun by France, and her southern settlements to be taken by Spain, rather than quit the object that gr vastafi es her revenge. This conduct on the part of Britain, has pointed out the propriety a France oe ing a naval and Jand force to co-opera .te with America on th c spot. Their arrival cannot be very distant, nor the ravages of the enemy long. ‘The rec ruiting the army, and procuring the supplies, are the two things most necessary to be accomplished, and a capture of either of the enemy’s divisions will restore to America peace e and plenty. At a crisis, big, like the pres sent, with expectation and events, the whole country is called to unanimity ied exertion. Not an ability ought now to sleep, that can pr oduce but a mite to the general good, nor even a whisper to pass that militates acainst it. The necessity of the case, and the importance of the consequences, admit no delay from a friend, no apology from anenemy. ‘To spare now would be the height of extrav- agance, and to consult present ease, would be to sacrifice it, perhaps forever. sees. rich in patriotism and produce, can want neither mcn nor supplies, when a serious nec cessity calls them forth. re slow Ce of taxes, owing to the extensiveness of tee ction, and their depreciated value before they arrived 1 1 the treasury, have, in many instances, thrown & burden upon gov- ernment, which has been artfu ily interpreted by the enemy into a general decline throughout the country. Yet this, incon- venient as it may at first ee is not only remediable, but may be turned into an immediate advantage ; for it makes no real difference, whether a certain number of men, or company of militia (and in this country every man is a militia-man) are directed by law to send a recruit at their own expense, or whether a tax is laid on them for that purpose, and the man hired by government afterwards. The first, if there is any difference, is both cheapest and ase. because it saves the ex- pense which would attend collecting it as a tax, and brings the man sooner into the field than the modes of reci ruiting for merly used; and, on this principle, a law has been passed in this state, for recruiting two men from each company of militia, which will add upwards of a thousand to the force of the country.THE CRISIS. 169 But the flame Ww] hi ch has broke forth in this a. ce ec report trom New York, of ie loss of Charlesto v, Ae on does honor to the place, but, li] 76 U Lxe the blaze of 17 Ww il} kn na le ute action the scattered Sat throughor ut A psiteae The valor of a countr y may be learned b y the braverv of end the general cast of j ; its ne) ts abate but confidence of s cess is best discovered by € measures pursued of prppeny ; and when the spirit of versal as to act at once on a ull ranks of me n, a and not till then, be sty led truly popular. In 1776, the nadox of the ente checked by the real! revolt of Ji t V7 o tre vu ce the activ by men 1eS SO Uni- war may then, inte rprise becon rprising part was considerab ly some, and the coolness of others, re 1s a firmness in the substance and property of the countr y to the se cause. An associa- tion has een entered into by the makati tradesmen, and so ck inhabitants of the city, to receive and Support the ew state money at the value of gold es while it does them honor, will likewise contribute to their interest, by ren dering the Operations of the cam convenient nad effectual, Nor has the spirit of exertion stopped here. A voluntary subscrivtion is ie ewise begun, to raise a fund of hard money, to be given as bounties. to fi] up the full quota of the Penn- Sylvania pee It has been the remark of the enemy, that everything in America has been done by the force of ON ern- ment; oe t when she sees individuals throwing in their volun- tary aid, and facilitating the public measures in concert with the established powers of the country, 1t will convince her that the cause of America stands not on the will of a few, but on the broad foundation of property and popularity. Thus aided and thus imi etbti disaffec ction will decline, and the withered head of tyranny expire in America. The ravages of the enemy will be short and limited, and like all their for! mer ones, will 1 produce a victory over themselves, But in the present case, ther and silver: a } a Measure paigon Common SEnsz, PHILADELPHIA, June 9th, 1780. 2 At the time of w1 iting this number of the ** Crisis,” the loss of Charleston, though believed by some, was more confidently disbelieved by others. But there ought to be no longer a doubt upon the matter. Charleston is gone, and [ L helieve for the want of a sufficient supply of provisions. The Wereteces Peseerisi ties Geert ss: choke Satori thee: eae ere erat: Suvseioees Sere ST ty thet at eT eT eee eT eee TT ek KT Sie eee bAT Te ost te eee Ba Sap! stds ee CES aES L aes ee Tete tur170 THE CRISIS. tieesioteegiiies eae | man that does not now feel for the honor of the best and noblest cause that ever a country engaged in, and exert himself accordingly, 18 no longer worthy of a peaceable residence among a people determined to be free. MONT at tera at AB C. 8. NUMBER X. @N THE SUBJECT OF TAXATION. Ir is impossible to sit down and think seriously on the affairs of America, but the original principles on which she resisted, and the glow and ardor which they inspired, will occur like the undefaced remembrance of a lovely scene. To trace over in imagination the purity of the cause, the voluntary sacyi- fices that were made to support it, and all the various turnings of the war in its defence, is at once paying and receiving respect. The principles deserve to be remembered, and to remember them rightly is repossessing them. In this indulg- ence of generous recollection, we become gainers by what we seem to give, and the more we bestow the richer we become. So extensively right was the ground on which America pro- ily took in every just and liberal sentiment ceeded, that it not 01 which could impress the heart, but made it the direct interest of every class and order of men to defend the country. The war, on the part of Britain, was originally a war of covetous ness. The sordid, and not the splendid, passions gave it being. The fertile fields and prosperous infancy of America appeared to her as mines for tributary wealth. She viewed the hive, and disregarding the industry that had enriched it, thirsted for : Deeg Sle mpetere,| re a verge at = ; the honey. But in the present stage of her aliairs, the violence of temper 1S added to tne rage Or avarice; and therefore, that which at the first setting out proceeded from purity oI principle and public interest, is now heightened by all the obligations of necessity; for it requires but little knowledge of human nature to discern what would be the consequences, were America again reduced to the subjection of Britain. Uncontrolled power, in the hands of an incensed, imperious, and rapacious conqueror, is an engine of dreadful execution, and woe be to that country over which it can be exercised. The names of whig and tory would then be sunk in the general term of rebel, and the er. 7 es e5e — Mie sa a : = 4 % y 4THE CRISIS. oppression, whatever it might be, would, with very few in- stances of exception, , Hight equally on all. katt did Wan So to war with America for the sake of dominion, because she was then in possession ; neither was it for the extension of trade and commerce, because she had mono te =: 1} polized the whole, and the country had yielded to it; neither was iv to extinguish what she might call rebellion. because before she began no resistance exist Balt 2 EE could then be no other motive than avaric: re trom cn eee >) OF a, design of establishing, in the first instance, the same taxes in America as are vaid in England (which, as I shall presently show, are above eleven times heavier than the taxes we now pay for the present year, 1780) or, in the second instance. to HAE scate the whole prop erty of America, in case of resistance and conquest of the eee , of which she had then no doubt I shall now proceed to show what ie taxes in England are and what the yearly expense of the present war is to her— what the taxes of this country amount to, and what the annual expense of defending it effectually will be to us; and shall endeavour concisely to point out the cause of our difficul- ties, and the advantages on one side, and the consequences on the other, in case we do, or do not, put ourselves in an effectual state of A Gace: I mean to be open, candid and sincere. I see a universal wish to expel the enemy from the country, a murmuring because the war is not carried on with more vigor, on my intention is to show, as shortly as possible, both ‘the ason and the remedy. “Tl he number of souls in England (exclusive of Scotland anc [reland) is seven millions, * and the ARTA be: of souls in ees is three millions. c The amount of taxes in England (exclusive of Scotland and Ireland) was, before the present war commenced, eleven millions six hundred and forty-two thousand six hundred and fifty- three pounds sterling; which, on an average, is no less a sum than one pound thirteen shillings and three-pence sterling per head per annum, men, women and children; besides county taxes, for the support of the poor, and a coe of all the pro- duce ‘of the earth for the support of the bishops and clergy. Nearly five millions of this sum went sally to pay the interest of the national debt, contracted by former wars, and -* This is taking the highest number that the people of England have been, or can be rated at. SeRSES TIS TISE4 FFA EASS «Tees amheos oS ise bon eta tdSrereiettt tity 34 Peet Ste tet ites Ca ae he sa a RES .* PSR E De i to ea he Re! - es oY 4 ete Li oti ro ts le iia has beat ee eat Si Seaaniieniaeanen THE CRISIS. millions six hundred and forty-two iousand six hundred pounds was applied to defray the yearly expense of government, the peace establishment of the army and navy, placemen, pensioners, Wc., consequently, the whole of the enormous taxes being thus appropriated, she had nothing to spare out of them towards defraying the expenses of the present war or any other.* Yet had she not been in debt at the beginning of the war, as we were not, and, like us, had only and not a naval war to carry on, her then revenue of ds sterling would have defrayed and government within each the remaining sum of six +1 UL a land sleven millions and a-half poun all her annual expenses of war year. : But this not being the case with her, she is obliged to bor- n millions pounds sterling, yearly, to prosecute the ar she borrowed twelve) allowing that the row about te war that she is now engaged in, (this ye and lay on new taxes to discharge the interest; present war has cost her only fitty millions sterling, the interest per cent., will be two millions and an half; nt of her taxes now must be tourteen erage is no less than forty shillings throughout the thereon, at five sherefore the amou millions, which on an av sterling per head, men, women and children, * The following is taken from Dr. Price’s state of the taxes of England, p. 96, 97, 95. An account of the money drawn from the public by taxes, annually, being the medium of three years before the year 1776. £9, 528,275 Amount of customs in WHOIANG. civiie yf t AC1lOUSNESS O Yo sey 1 pC Loan be Rice sat Pacey extravacance and rapa 1e court SO enormous, UNA, 1 } Lit America, it is then only that conquest OL : ahd pe 4 were they to eniect a . . e 4 = z Ae tiel oe Toe = bk ee tt the distresses orf America would begin. Neither would it sig- nity a) wei ~ ty Q Man x17 } other he b whic or tory MDhea HeO- nitv anytuning vo a mak wnetvner i IN a JOT Y. Pee Co 1 ple of England, and the ministry of that country, know us by What they want is clear, solid revenue, no such distinctions. take to procure it would oper- and the modes which they would ate alike on all. Their manner of because they would naturally infer. that if we were able to six years against them, we were able 1ey co. reasoning would be short, carry on a war of five or to pay the same taxes which tl L have already stated that the expense of conducting the present war, and the government of the several states, may be done for two millions sterling, and the establishment in time of ‘ee-quarters of a million.* matters, they flourish so well, and are so well uals. that I think it consistent on every the navy into hard peace for thi As to navy attended to by individ principle of real use and economy, to turn money (keeping only three or four packets) and apply it to the service of the army. We shall not have a ship the less; the use of them, and the benefit from them, will be greatly increased, and their expense saved. We are now allied with a formidable naval power, from whom we derive the assistance of a navy. And the line in which we can prosecute the war, So as to reduce the common enemy and benefit the alliance most effectually, will be by attending closely to the land service. { estimate the charge of keeping up and maintaining an army, officering them, and all expenses included, sufticient for the defence of the country, to be equal to the expense of forty thou- sand men at thirty pounds sterling per head, which is one million two hundred thousand pounds. * T have made the calculations in sterling, because it is a rate generally known in all the states, and because, likewise, it admits of an easy compari- son between Our expense to support the war, and those of the enemy. Four silver dollars and a half is one pound sterling, and three pence over.[ likewise allow four h 1 ta] expenses at home and a road. And four hundred thousan several state sovernments—the amount will then be, For the army ee tas yO £1,200, 01 Continantal , ~ ag ! } 7 ‘ 3 ~1,700, 000 vontinental expenses at home ANG, QOFORG gg. 0: 40 ),000 Government of the several states oie eee ae 400,000 Ty 2 a F; ae Potal oe) eS) aete” «2, 00000 I take the proportion of this state, Pennsylvania eighth part of the thirteen United States: the quota us to raise will be two hundred and fifty thousand pounds ster- ling; two hundred thousand of which will be our share for the support and pay of the army, and continental] expenses at home and abroad, and fifty thousand pounds for the supp rt of the state covernment, a I, order to gain an idea of the proportion in which the rais- ing such a sum will fall, I make the tollowing calculation, Pennsylvania contains three hundred and seventy-tive thou- sand inhabitants, men, women, and children: which is likewise an eighth of the number of inhabitants of the whole United States; therefore two hundred and fifty thousand pounds ster- ling to be raised among three hundred and seventy-five persons, 1s, on an average, thirteen shillings and head, per annum, or something more than one per month. And our proportion of three- for the government of the country, ninety-three thousand seven hundr fifty thousand of which will ] 4 t = 1 O DE an then for 3 thousand four pence per shilling sterling quarters of a million in the time of peace, will be ed and fifty pounds sterling; ye for the government expenses of the state, and forty-three thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds for continental expenses at home and abroad. The peace establishment then will, shillings sterling per head. stop, and the war cease, her pe the same as it now iS, Viz. on an average, be five Whereas, was England now to ace establishment would continue , forty shillings per head: therefore was our taxes necessary for carrying on the war.as much per head as hers now is, and the difference to be only whether we should, at the end of the war. pay at the rate of five shillings per head, or forty shillings per head, the case needs no thinking of. But as we can securely defend and keep the country for one third less than what our burden would he if it was conouered, and supy “t the governments afterwards for one eighth of what THE CRISIS. 175 Sey ; : . undred thousand pounds for continen- d pounds for the Support of the eters es ee ore ee ee eee PSP Gn Sasi ase eel eh eee Poca eee ee Pe a ae wos 2 F Rema ee hes Sele sete sees PMespslistes eee a Bes pie SELES | Lee ed asi eeses set THSLESS wa 2eras eeeare reCet er ecre: ts asd Braheagdign Peet? tt ett ttt tt, sheeceaggy? 176 THE CRISIS. Britain would levy on us, and could I find a miser whose heart never left the emotion of a spark of principle, even that man, at the love of money, and eapable uninfluenced by every love b of no attachment but to his interest, would and must, from the frugality which governs him, contribute to the defence of the country, or he ceases to be & MISer and becomes an 1a10t. Dut when we take in with 1t everything that can ornament manh- kind; when the line of our interest hecomes the line of our happi- ness; when all that can cheer and animate the heart; when a sense of honor, fame, character, at home and abroad, are inter- security but the increase of property, America, unless he be an hired emis- sary, who does not see that his good is connected with keeping woven not only with the there exists not a man in up a sufficient defence. I do not imagine that an instance can be produced in the world, of a country pul ting herself to such an amazing charge to conquer and enslave ancther, as Britain has done. The sum is too great for her to think of with any tolerable degree of temper; and when we consider the burden she sustains, as well as the disposition she has shown, ib would be the height of folly in us to suppose that she would not reimburse herself by the most rapid means, had she America once more within her power. With such an oppression of expense, what would an empty conquest be to her? What relief under such circumstances could she derive from a victory without a prize? It was money, it was revenue she first went to war for, and nothing but that would satisfy her. It is not the nature of avarice to be satis- fied with anything else. Every passion that acts upon mankind has a peculiar mode of operation. Many of them are temporary and fluctuating; they adinit of cessation and variety. But ava- rice is a fixed, uniform passion. It neither abates of its vigor nor changes its object; and the reason why it does not, is founded in the nature of things, for wealth has not a rival where avarice is a ruling passion. One beauty may excel an- other, and extinguish from the mind of man the pictured remem- brance of a former one: but wealth is the phcenix of avarice, and therefore cannot seek a new object because, there is not another in the world. I now pass on to show the value of the present taxes, and compare them with the annual expense; but this I shall pre- face with a few explanatory remarks. There are two distinct things which make the payment of ct @THE CRISIS. 177 taxes difficult: the one is the ] to be paid, and tl a arge and real value o 1e other is the scarcity of th the payment is to be made; and although these appear to be one and the Same, they are in Several instances not only differ- ent, but the difficulty springs from different causes. Suppose a tax to be laid equal to one half is, such a tax could not be paid, because th perty could not be Spared; and on the other hand very trifling tax wag laid, to be collected likewise could hot be paid erson may see latter of them is f the sum 1e thing in which of what a man’s yearly income € pro- » SUppose a in pearls, such a tax » because they could not be had. that these are distinct cases, and the 4 representation of our Own. That the difficulty cannot proceed from the former, that is, from the rea] value or weight of the tax, Is evident at the first view to any Person who will consider it. The amount of the quota of taxes for this State, for the pres- ent year, 1780, (and so in Proportion for evey other State) is twenty millions of dollars, which, at se venty for one, is but sixty- four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds three shill sterling, and on an average, Is no more than three s] fivepence sterling per head, per annum, per man, woman and child, or threepence two-fifths per head per month. Now here is a clear, positive fact, that cannot be contradicted, and which proves that the difficulty cannot be in the Weight of the tax, for in itself it is a trifle, and far from being adequate to our quota of the expense of the war. The quit-rents of one penny sterling per acre only one half of the state, of fifty thousand pounds, which is almost esent year, and as those of the taxes then paid, and of money drawn for pub] militia fines, which IT shall work, is less +] Now any I . Ings 1illings and come to upwards 4S much ag all the quit-rents make no part are now discontinued, the quantity le service this year, exclusive of the take notice of in the process of this 1an What was naid and payable in any year pre- ceding the revolution, and since the last war: what I mean 1s, that the quit-rents and taxes taken together came to a lar sum then, than the present taxes without the qu now. My intention by these arguments and calcylati the difficulty to the right cause, and show that it ceed from the weight or worth of the t of the medium in which it is paid ; still further, I shal] now 12 taxes of the pr er o 5 7 it-rents do ons 18 to place does not pro- ax, but from the Scarcity and to illustrate this point show, that if the tax of twenty mil- oe eT ek sc ee eo Peo aS Sd ee eee ers OE eter ote te ee eeivecdowege SR bf caper oe ca. bh = ton ae Re rt eee pees es ek od Pe |pies ateir er! a eat teed a SEIT sri ek pong a Shik iat a eer aig No Se Dor cage oe oe ma Pee: ey 178 THE CRISIS. ions of dollars was of four times the real value it now 1s, or nearly so, which would be about two hundred and fifty thousand counds sterling, and would be our full quota, this sum would pounds sterling, ana wouiad be li Quota, Unis } VC have been raised with more ease, and have been less felt, than the present sum of only sixty-four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds. The convenience or inconvenience of paying a tax in money arises from the quantity of money that can be spared out o e trade. When the emissions stopped, the continent was left in possession of two hundred millions of dollars, perhaps as equally dispersed as it was possible for trade to do it. And asno more was to be issued, the rise or fall of prices cuuld neither increase nor diminish the quantity. It therefore remained the same through all the fluctuations of trade and exchange. Now had the exchange stood at twenty for one, which was the rate congress calculated upon when they arranged the quota of the several states, the latter end of last year, trade would have been carried on for nearly four times less money than it is now, and consequently the twenty millions would have been spared with much greater ease, and when collected would have been of almost four times the value than they now are. And on the other hand, was the depreciation to be ninety or one hundred fer one, the quantity required for trade would be more than at sixty or seventy for one, and though the value of them would be less, the difficulty of sparing the money out of trade would be greater. And on these facts and arguments I rest the matter, to prove that it is not the want of property, but the scarcity of the medium by which the proportion of property for taxation is to be measured out, that makes the embarrass- ment which we lie under. There is not money enough, and, what is equally as true, the people will not let there be money enough. While I am on the subject of the currency, I shall offer one remark which will appear true to everybody, and can be ac- counted for by nobody, which is, that the better the times were, the worse the money grew; and the worse the times were, the better the money stood. It never depreciated by any advantage obtained by the enemy. The trouble of 1776, and the loss of Philadelphia in 1777, made no sensible impression on it, and every one knows that the surrender of Charleston did not pro- duce the least alteration in the rate of exchange, which, forTHE CRISIS. 179 long before, and for more than three months after, stood at sixty for one. It seems as if the certainty of its being our own, made us careless of its value, and that the most distant thoughts of losing it made us hug it the closer, like something we were loth to part with; or that we d epreciate it for our pastime, which, when called to seriousness by the enemy, we leave off to renew again at our leisure. In Short, our good luck seems to break us, and our bad makes us whole. Passing on from this digression, I into one view the several parts wh and form thereon some propositions, and conclude. I have placed before the reader, the average tax per head, paid by the people of England: which is forty shillings sterling. And I have shown the rate on an average per head, which will defray all the expenses of the war to us, and support the several governments without running the country into debt, which is thirteen shillings and fourpence. I have shown what the peace establishment may be conducted for, viz., an eighth part of what it would be, if under the government of Britain. And I have likewise shown what the average per head of the present taxes are, namely, three shillings and fivepence sterling, or threepence two-fifths per month ; and that their whole yearly value, in sterling, is only sixty-four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds.” Whereas our quota, to keep the payments equal with the expenses, is two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. Consequently there is a deficiency of one hundred and eighty-five thousand, seven hundred and twenty pounds, and the same proportion of defect, according to the several quotas, happens in every other state. And this defect is the shall now endeavor to bring ich I have already stated, cause why the army has has been so indifferently fed, clothed and paid. It is the cause, likewise, of the nerveless state of the campaign, and the insecurity of the country. Now, if a tax equal to thirteen and fourpence per head, will remove all these difficulties, and make the people secure in their homes, leave them to follow the business of their stores and farms unmolested, and not only keep out, but drive out the enemy from the country; and if the neglect of raising this sum will let them in, and produce the evils which might be prevented— on which side, I ask, does the wisdom, interest and policy lie? Or, rather, would it not be an insult to reason, to put the ques- tion? The sum when proportioned out according to the several eee nee tod ee Pere ster tte SST er crc te ree ees SHgtiestMtr ee tser es RR ae Fee s£eh4setatat Big alae arenas Faia aie aR opel rite ee Ree Le ear edo Dict es aE abilities of the people, can hurt no one, enemy ruins hundreds of families. Took atthe destruction done in this city. the waste of fences the country around it, besides the plunder of furniture, forage, The many houses tate ] r Aline aONXT | NTN q th Ly a dé HAO Ya * ae | totally aestroyeda, ana OUNCrIs CLAMALCG , th and provisions. Ido not suppose that half a million sterling bed 1 deh a ae gd ee Te Ne tee ee ees would reinstate tne sufferers ; and does this. = ask, bear adry expense that would make us secure. Phe zi ° ; : : . 7 e rage, 18 av least ten pounds sterling per head, = proportion to tne damage, on an ave 7 8 imhe. ° eV" a ey po n th z ee which is as much as thirteen shillings ana tour pence pel heay The same has happened on the comes to for fifteen years. : frontiers. and in the Jerseys, New York, and other places wher« the enemy has been—Carolina and Georgia are likewise suffer ing the same Fate ay 7 ¥y F 1. - Matar it - : eth AN That the peonple senerally do not understand the insutheiency a a3 < oe . aan j iy os Soe : 5 aaa / of the taxes to carry on tne war, is evident, not only from com mon observation, but from the construction of several petitions, : e Ea 1 S - | which were presented to the assembly of this state against the recommendations of congress of the 18th of March last, for tak ing up and funding the present currency at forty for one, and issuing new money in its stead. The prayer of the petition was, that the currency might be appreciated by taxes (meaning the present taxes) and that part of the taxes be applied to the supr port of the army, if the army could not be otherwise supported. Now it could not have been possible for such a petition to have been presented, had the petitioners known, that so far from part of the taxes being sufficient for the army, the whole of them falls three-fourths short of the year’s expenses. Before I proceed to propose methods by which a sufficiency of money may be raised, I shall take a short view of the general state of the country. Notwithstanding the weight of the war, the ravages of the enemy, and the obstructions she has thrown in the way of trade and commerce, so soon does a young country outgrow misfor- tune, that America has already surmounted many that heavily oppressed her. For the first year or two of the war, we were shut up within our ports, scarce venturing to look towards the ocean. Now our rivers are beautified with large and valuable vessels, our stores filled with merchandise, and the produce of the country has a ready market, and an advantageous price. Gold and silver, that for a while seemed to have retreated again withinthe bowels of the earth, have once more risen into cireu-fa cy ee EMT } 1 ; j iation, and Coes Gay adds new strencth to trade, commerce and agriculture. Ina pamphlet, written by Sir Joh) lalrymple and disper sed in America in the Tegr ‘ ade dl a e i 5 serted. that, nes 5¢ , te ae rae 7 7° . ° two twenty-gun ships, na Y, Says he, tenders of those shins. station- 7 mn Albemarle anor Nee Cay 7 ; CQ bet yf) C722) sound and ( CESAPCOKE bay. would shut un Siac , An Aah ny Mia EVE CT rT we "4. A: the trade of America foi 00 nozles. tiow little did Sir Jonn J + Vi \ ei it Dalrymple know of the abilities of America. “i dar to $A 7 : CA Sst: i pie f ° While under the government of Britain, the. trade of this country was loaded with restrictions. It was only a few foreign ports which we were allowed to sail to. Nowit is other- wise; and allowing that the quantity of trade is but half what it was before the war, the case must show {1 of an open trade, because the present strictions could not support itself; from which ] infer, that if half the quantity without the restrictions can 1e vast ad vantage quantity under her re- c bear itself up ) nearly, if not quite, as well as the whole when Subject to then how prosperous must the condition of America .be when the whole shall return open with all the world. By the trade 1] do not mean the employment Or a merchant only, but the vhole ni ek Sant etcan UP LT Ps ef enya oe eee ; asi terest and business of the country taken collectively. ci yo ie cw: ity haan ee a ep ee ae Lal Aer: Lt is not so much my ints ntion, OY Unis public: tion, to pro- pose particular plans lor ralsing money, as it 1s to show the ; ae 7 See ‘ ae [ | : ] . J necessity and the advantages to be aerive cipal design is to form the disposition of the people to the measures which [ am fully persuaded it is thers interest and duty to adopt, an other force to accomplish them than the force of being felt. But throw out a skete he and leave others to make d from it. My prin- which needs no ut aS every hint may be iseful, L shall t ay such improvements upon it as to the may appear reasonable. The annual sum wanted is two millions, and the ave race rate in which it falls, is thirteen shillings and f ourpence per head. Suppose, then, that we raise half the sum and sixty thousand pounds over. The average rate thereof will] per head. In this case we shall have half the supply that we want, and an annual fund of sixty thousand pounds whereon to borrow the other million ; because sixty thousand pounds 1s the interest of a million at six per cent: and if at the end of another year we should be obliged, by the continuance of the war, to borrow another million, the taxes will be increased to seven shillings and sixpence; see thus for every million borrowed, an addi- tional tax, equal to sixpence per head, must be levied. pmapond be seven shillings a Eee ter kee) fees ee oor Sz, wT Pe ae a] Ba a ale £ cS ee ep ree pees Ss Pi aeeee eo te keSP err Perris. ePeet Ey Sesqtatataianectisets ta ey eT eerety: >yeeete 2948 caeseeT Metis etc tse! 182 THE CRISIS. ‘The sum to be raised next year will be one million and sixty thousand pounds; one half of which I would propose should be raised by duties on imported goods, and prize goods, and the other half by a tax on landed property and houses, or such other means as each state may devise. But as the duties on imports and prize goods must be the same in all the states, therefore, the rate per cent., or what n the duty shail be said, must be ascertained and by congress, and ingrafted in that form into the law of each state; and the monies arising therefrom carried into the treasury of each state. The duties to be paid in gold or silver. Te are many reasons why a duty on imports is the most convenient duty or tax that can be collected; one of which is, because ie whole is ear obre in a few places in a country, and it likewise operates w ith the greatest ease and equality, because as every one pays in proportion to what he consumes, so people in general consume in proportion to what they can atiord, and therefore the tax is regulated by the abilities which every man supposes himself to have, or in other ee every man becomes his own assessor, and pays by a little at a time, when it suits him to buy. Besides it is a tax which people may pay or let alone by not consuming the articles; and though the alternative their conduct, the power of choosing 4 oO A= , } qa iG 4 may have no influence on ¢ is an agreeable thing to the mind. For my own part, it wou be a satisfaction to me, was there a duty on all sorts of liouors luring the war, as in my idea of things it would be an addition , Pei ee -" pic si Ss oi } to the pleasures ol SOCIEetyY, to know, tl nat when the he: wlth ot the army goes round, a fe y drops from every glass become — ; theirs. How often have I heard an emphatical wish, almost accompat ied with a tear, “Oh, that our voor fellows in the field had sone of this /” Why, then, need we suffer under a fruit- less sympathy when there is a way to enjoy both the wish and pie ge see 0 the en tertainment at one e? But the great national policy of putting a duty upon imports is, that it ei hice keeps the foreign trade in our hands, or draws something for the defence of the country from every foreigner who perticipates it with us. Thus much for the first half of the taxes, and as each state will best devise means to raise the other half, I shall confine my cemarks to the resources of this state. The quota, then, of this state, of one million and sixty thou-THE CRISIS. 183 sand pounds, will be one } iundred and thirty-three thousand two hundred and fifty pounds, the half of which is sixty-six thou- sand six hundred and twenty-fiy ve pounds; and supposing one- fourth part of Pennsylvania inhabited. then a tax of one bushel of wheat on every twenty acres of land, one with another, would produce the sum, and all the pr esent taxes to cease. Whereas, the tithes of the bis shops and clergy in England, exclusive of the taxes, are upwards of half a bushel of wheat ” every single acre of land, good and bad, throughout the nation. u tne former part of this paper, I mentioned the militia nese reserved speaking to the matter, which I shall now do. ‘he ground I shall now put it upon is, that two millions sterling a year will support a sufficient army, and all the “kpenses of war and government, without having recourse to tie inconvenient method of continually calling ‘len trots Ghar employments, which, of all others, is the most expensive and the least atintial. I consider the revenues created by taxes as the first and principal thing, and fines only as secondary and accidental things. It was not the intention of the militia law to apply the fines to any thing else but the support of the militia, neither do they produce any revenue to the state, yet these fines amount to more than all the taxes: for taking the muster-roll to be sixty thousand men, the fine on forty thousand who may not attend, will be sixty thousand pounds sterling, and those who muster, will give up @ portion of time equal oe half that sum, and if the « ight ¢ lasses should be called within the year, and one-third turn out, the fine on the remaining forty thousand would amount to seventy -two millions of dollars, beside the fifteen shillings on every hundre« d pounds of property, and the charge of seven and a half per cent. for collecting, in certain instances, which, on the whole, would be upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling. Now if those very fines disable the country from raising a sufficient revenue without producing an equivalent advantage, would it not be for the ease and interest of all parties to in- crease the revenue, in the manner I have proposed, or any better, if a better atl nd deed ancl cease the operation of the fines? I would still keep the militia as an organized body of men, and should there be a real necessity to call them forth, pay them out of the proper revenues of the state, and increase the taxes a third or fourth per cent. on those who do not attend. te Pro e cor Reese) eee re et eee Perr tS ee es ' Bee TS Sar e ey Tre re erste. es eS goa te ks spaxeresNErttattit titi? Peet Py : ‘jt eeeied a : sa ete tT PL ELEC Lt ee oP L. keto eet: -seneee ers ti Rett iti tet tt: o My limits wi 184 THE CRISIS ill not allow me to go further into this matter, hall therefore close with ‘this remark ; ; that fines are, e wavenue. the most unsuited to the minds of a e/ which I sha of all modes of revenue, free count a public necess charging hi of duty, and of col quently levied with severity. nen a& man pays a tax, he knows that the ity require it, and therefore feels a pride in dis- tis dut ty; but a fne seems an atonement for neglect f sequence 18 paid with discredit, and fre I have now only one subject more to speak of, with which | which is, the resolve of congress of the 18th of aking up and funding the present currency at > shall Seat , 4 forty for one, and issuing new money in its stead. Everyone knows that [ am not the aot of congress, but im this instance they are right; and if that measure is supported, the currency will acquire a value, which, without it, it will not. But this is not all; it will give relief to the finances until such time as they can be prop: rly arranged ne savethe dountry trom being immediately double taxed under the present mode. In short, support that measure, and it will support you. I have now waded through a tedious course of difficult busi- ness, and over an untrodden path. The subject, on every point in which it could be viewed, was entangled with perplexities, and enveloped in obscurity, yet such are the resources of Am- erica, that she wants nothing but system to ensure Success. CommcN S1_.sE. PmiiADELPoIA, Oct. 6, 1750. NUMBER XL ON THE KING OF ENGLAND'S SPLECH. Or all the innocent passions which actuate the human mind, there is none more ferea ame prevalent than curiosity. It reaches all mankind, and in matters which concern us, or con- cern us not, it alike provokes in us a desire to know them. Although die situation of America, superior to every effort to ao. her, and daily rising to importance a and opulence, hath placed her above the re cion of anxiety, it has still left her within the circle of curiosity ; and her fancy to see the speech of aman who had proudly threatened to bt ‘ing her to his feet, was visibly marked with thet tranquil confidence which cared no-THE CRISIS. thing about its contents. It was inquired after with a smile. read with a laugh, and dismissed wiih disdain. | But, as justice is due, even to an enemy. it is right to sa that the speech is as well man: uged as the amhasise ssed so tince of their affairs could well admit of; and though hardly a line of it is true, except the mournful story of Cornwallis, it may serve to amuse the deluded commons and people of Enoland, for whom it was calculated. . . “The war,” says the speech, “is stili unhappily that restless ambition which f rst excited cae enemies to com- mence it, and aN still continues to disappoint my earnest wishes : and diliger ent exertions to restore the public trana uility.” How easy it is to Tate truth and language, waen men, by habitual wickedness, have learned to set justice at detiance, That the very man who begun the war, who with the most sullen insolence refused to answer, and even to hear ae e humblest of all petitions, who hath encouraged his officers and his aru 1y in the most savage cruelties, and the most scandalous plunderings, who hath stirred up the Indians on one side, and the necroes on the other, and invoked every aid of hell in his behalf prolonged by a QO A , Should now, with an affected air of pity, turn the tables from himself, and oh arge to another the w ickedness that is his own, can only be equa led 1 by the baseness of the heart that spoke it. To be nob ly Wrong as More manly ish to be meanly r igi At, is an ‘xpression | once used on a former occasion, and it is e qually anplieanle now. We feel some thing like re spect for consistency even in error. We lament the virtue that is debauched into a vice, but the vice that effects a tat becomes the more detes¢- able: and amongst the various assumptions of character which hypocrisy has taught, and men have practised, there is none that rises a higher relish of disgust, than to see disappointed inveteracy twis ting itself, by the most visible ¢ falsehoods, into an appearance of piety which it has no pretensions to. “But Is Hoala not,” continues the speech, ‘answer the trust committed to the sovereign of a free people, nor make a suit- able return to my subjects for their constant, zealous, and affec- tionate attachment to my person, family and government, if [ consented to sacritice, either tO My own dees of peace, or to their temporary ease and relief, those essential rights and per- mament interests, upon the maintenance and preservation of which, the fnture strength and security of this country must neinally depend.” eeee perros ger, ites erie ee | PSnSsei bees ra. eee i ET Ree Peet Pest rd ee = CTT PPT erst tas es : seiisgareretsge res seeeiaeiietiecan ee haem meet ear REE Pr ean, age te See Rs Le eee 186 THE CRISIS. That the man whose ignorance and obstinacy first involved and still continues the nation in the most hopeless and expen- sive of all ney should now meanly flatter them with the name of a free people, and make a merit of his crime, under the dis- guise of their aceon el rights and permanent interests, 1s some- thing which disgraces even the character of Dery cre hee. Is he atraid they will send him to Hanover, or what does he fear? Why is the sycopnant thus added to the hypocrite, and the man who pretends to govern, sunk into the humble and submissive memorialist 4 What those essential rights and permanent interests are, on which the future strength ‘and secur ity of England must princi- pally depend, are not so much as alluded to. ‘They are words which imvress nothing but the ear, and are calculated only for the sound. But if they have any reference to America, then do they amount to the disgraceful confession, that England, who once assumed to be her protectress, has now hovers | her ‘devendent. The British king and ministry are constantly holding up the vast imvortance which America is of to England, in order to allure tae nation to carry on the war: now, whatever ground there is for this idea, it ought to have operated as a reason for not beginning it: and, Bee they support their present measures to their own disgrace, because the arguments which they now use, are a direct re a tion on their former policy. “The favorable appearance of affairs,” continues the speech, “in the East Indies, and the safe arrival of the numerous com mercial fleets of my kingdom, must have given you satisfaction.” That things are not gwite so bad everywhere as in America may be some cause of consolation, but can be none for triumph. One broken leg is better than two, but still it is not a source of joy: and let the appearance of affairs in the East Indies be ever so favourable, they are nevertheless worse than at first, without a prospect of their ever being better. But the mourn. ful story of Cornwallis was yet to be told, and it was necessary to give it th: softest introduction possible. “But in the course of this year,” continues the speech, “‘my assiduous endeavors to guard the extensive dominions of my crown have not been attended with suc CESS equal to the justice and uprightness of my views.”—What justice and uprightness there was in beginning a war with ea the world will judge of, and the unequalled barbarity with which it ha beenTHE CRISIS. 187 conducted, is not to be worn from the memory by the cant of snivelling hypocrisy. “And it is with great concern that I inform you that the events of war have been very unfortunate to my arms in Vir- ginia, having ended in the loss of my forces in that province.” — And ows concern is that they are not all served in the same manner. ““No endeavors have been wanting on my part,” says the speech, “‘to extinguish that spirit of rebellion which our ene- mies have found means to foment and maintain in the colonies; and to restore to my deluded subjects in America that happy and prosperous condition which they formerly derived from a due obedience to the laws.” The expression of deluded subjects is become so hacknied and contemptible, and the more so when we see them making prisoners of whole armies at a time, that the pride of not being laughed at would induce a man of common sense to leave it off. But the most offensive falsehood in the paragraph, is the attributing the prosperity of America to a wrong cause. It was the unre- mitted industry of the settlers and their descendants, the hard labor and toil of persevering fortitude, that were the true causes of the prosperity of America. The former tyranny of England served to people it, and the virtue of the adventurers to im- prove it; Ask the man, who, with his axe hath cleare| a way in the wilderness, and who possesses an estate, ~) ide him rich, and he will tell you the labor of his hands, the sweat of his brow, and the blessing of heaven. Let Britain but leave America to herself and she asks no more. She has risen into greatness without the knowledge and against the will of Eng- land, and has a right to the unmolested enjoyment of her own created wealth. “JT will order,” says the speech, “ the estimates of the ensuing year to be laid before you. J rely on your wisdom and publie spirit for such supplies as the circumstances of our affairs shall be found to require. Among the many ill consequences which attended the continuation of the present war, I most sincerely regret the additional burdens which it must unavoidably bring upon my faithful subjects.” a It is strange that a nation must run through sucha labyrinth of trouble. and exvend such a mass of wealth to gain the wisdom which an hour’s reflection might have taught. The final superiority of America over every attempt that an island ete ot lk ere ee eer ee ee ee Leh ee. ee be er Seeng ss tgtiss4t: Ss = Pete er eee ease on eek 6 menses i co aoMepesiqhiiin: 2 188 THE CRISIS. er, was as naturally marked in the the future ability of a giant over a features while an infant. How far vhich. no human wisdom could foresee, permitted such extraordinary errors, is still a a nd must remain so ti futurity might make to conquer h constitution of things, as dwarf is delineated in his providence, to accomplish purposes ‘% secret in the womb of time, @ shall give it birth. “Tn the prosecution of this great and important contest,” “in whieh we are engaged, I retain a firm con- fidence in the protection of divine providence and a perfect con- viction in the justice of my cause, and I have no doubt, but, that by the concurrence and support of my parliament, by the valor of my fleets and armies, and by a vigorous, animated, and united exertion of the faculties and resources of my people, I shall be enabled to restore the blessings of a safe and honorable says the speech, peace to all my dominions.” The king of England is one of the readiest believers in the world. In the beginning of the contest. he passed an act to ) protection of the crown of England, put America out of the seven years together, hath put him and though providence, tor out of her protection, still the man has no doubt. Like Pharaoh on the edge of the Red sea, he sees nob the plunge he is making, and precipitately drives across the flood that is closing over his head. 1 think it a reasonable supposition, that this part of the speech was composed before the arrival of the news of the capture of Cornwallis: for it ce ‘tainly has no relation to their condition at the time it was spoken. but, be this at it may, it is nothing to us. Our line is fixed. Our lot is cast; and America, the child of fate, is arriving at maturity. We have nothing to do but by a spirited and quick exertion, to stand prepared for war or peace. ‘oo great to yield, and too noble to insult; superior to misfortune, and generous in success, let us untaintedly preserve the character which we have gained, and show the future ages an example of unequalled magnan- imity. There is something in the cause and consequence of America that has drawn on her the attention of all mankind. The world has seen her brave. Her love of liberty; her ardor in supporting it; the justice of her claims, and the constancy of her fortitude has won her the esteem of Europe, and attached to her interest the first power in that country. Her situation now is such, that to whatever point, past,VLSIS. present or to come, she casts her eyes, new matter rises to con- vince her that sheisright. In her conduct towards her enemy, no reproachful sentiment lurks in secret. No sense of injustice is left upon bs mind. Untainted with ambition, and a stranger to revenge, her progress hath been marked by providence, and she, in every stage of the conflict, has blest her with success. But let not America w oe hersele up in delusive hope and ppose the businessdone. ‘The least remissness in pre paration, the least relaxation in execution, will only serve to prolong the war, and increase expenses. If our enemies can draw consola-: tion from misfortune, and exert themselves upon despair, how much more ought we, who are to win a continent by the con- quest, and have already an earnest of success Having, in the preceding part, made my remarks on the several matters which the speech contains, I shall now make my remarks on what it does not contain. There is not a syllable in it respecting alliances.. Either the injustice of Britain is too gl: aring, or her cohdition too desper- ate, or both, for any neighboring power to come to her support. In the beginning of the conquest, when she had only America to contend with, she hired assistance from Hesse, and other smaller states of Germany, and for nearly three years did America, young, raw, undisciplined and unprovided, stand against the power of Britain, aided by twenty thousand foreign troops, and made a complete conquest of one entire army. The remembrance of those things ought to inspire us with confidence and greatness of mind, and carry us through every remaining diealty va content and cheerfulness. W hat are the little sufferings of the present day, compared with the hardships that are past? There was a me when we Haat nee house nor home in safety; when every hour was the hour of alarm and danger: when the mind, tortured with anxiety, knew no re- nose, and ev erything iat hope and fortitude was bidding us LAaArewe [tis of use to look back upon these things; to call to mind the times of trouble and the scenes of complicated anguish that are past and gone. Then every expense was cheap, compared with the dread of conquest and the misery of submission. We did not stand debating upon trifles, or contending about the necessary and unadv oidable charges of defence. Everyone bore his lot of suffering, and looked forward to happier days, and scenes of rest. oh EB ee ert tee cay See Tete Ge et Et es sstressorteriaiees. ‘soo ot 37 RE call ab eee re! ae eT rer series. PREG TALOR APES: - a cSt esq 4? ade test ara: Pa b x Cera ge: Sd 190 THE GRISIS. a] Pred Be a Ea pS ee ete Ec é ele Perhavs one of the greatest dangers which any country can qe : , Rene (a estas oe be exposed to, arises from a kind oi trifling which sometimes steals upon the mind, when it supposes the danger past; anc l A 2S ; a : gett s Nig tea f this unsafe situation marks at this time the peculiar crisis of Wriat <0 1 al sen L, ey America. What w yuld spe once, Dave given LO nave known yet Saandiion this dav should |] ea ni Gila her eondition at this aay SnouL Woat 1t 1S NOW : And yeu we do now seem to piace a props GCG Value upon LU, nor V1g01 Or usly pursu tne necessary) “ measures to secure lt. We know 3 qe ey Se Tp : that we cannot be perenus d, nor yet defend ourselves, without trouble and expense. We have no right to expect it; neithe ee we to look ror 10. yYWre are &@ people aoe ho, La OUT -S1t eee } } i} ifs differ from all the worl ibli d. We form one common floor of good, and, wha. ss ver is our charge, it is paid for our own interes and U von our OWT) aceount. Misfortune and experience have now taught us system and method; and the oe eee for carrying on the war are reduced to rule and order. The quotas of the several states are ascertained, and I intend in a future publication to show what they are, and the necessity as well as the advantages of vigor- ously providing them. In the meantime, I shall conclude this paper with an instance of British clemency, from Smolleti’s ‘“‘ History of England,” vol. p. 239, printed in London. It will serve to show how dis- mal the situation of a conquered people is, and that the only security is an effectual defence. We all know that the Stuart family y and the house of Hanover opposed each other for the crown of England. The Stuart family stood first in the line of succession, but the other was the most successful. In July, 1745, Charles, the son of the exiled king, landed in Scotland, collected a small force, at no time exceeding five or six thousand men, and made some attempts to re-establish his claim. The late duke of Cumberland, uncle to the present king of England, was sent agait 1st him, and on the 16th of April, following, Charles was totally defeated at Culloden, in Scotland. Success and power are tee only situations in which clemency can be shown, and those who are cruel because they are victori- ous, can with the same facility act any other degenerate char- acter. “Immediately after the decisive action at Culloden,the duke of Cumberland took possession of Inverness; where six and thirty deserters, convicted by a court martial, were ordered to pu 1THE CRISES. 191 eral parties to ravace the be executed: then he detached se 1 the e Lady Mackintosh. wi ve country. One of these apprehended t] was sent prisoner to Inverness, plunc oe ed her house, and re away her cattle, though her husband was actually in the service of the government. The castle of Lord Lovat was dest troved. The French prisoners were sent to Carlisle and Penrith: Kil- marnock, Balmerino, Cromartie, and his s son, the lord Macleod, were conveyed by sea to London; and those of an inferior rank were confined in different prisons. The marquis of Tullibar- dine, together with a brother of the earl of Dunmore and Mur- ray, the pretender's secretary, were seized and transported to the Tower of London, to which the earl of Traquaire had been committed on suspicion; and the eldest son of lord Lovat was imprisoned in the castle of Edinburgh. In a word, all the jails in Great Britain, from the capital, northwards, were filled with those unfortunate CADELY.ES and great numbers of them were crowded together in the holds of ships, where they perished in the most deplorable manner, for want of air and exercise. Some rebel chiefs escaped in two French frigates that arrived on the coast of Lochaber about the end of April, and engaged three vessels belonging to his Britannic majesty, which they obliged to retire. Others embarked on board a ship on the coast of Buchan, and were conveyed to Norway, from whence they travelled to Sweden. In the month of May, the duke of Cumberland advanced with the army into the Highlands, as far as Fort Augustus, where he encamped; and sent off detachments on all hands, to hunt down the fugitives, and lay waste the country with fire and sword. The castles of G ‘lengat rry and Lochiel were plundered and burned; every house, hut or habi- tation, met with the same fate, without distinction; and all the cattle and provisions were carried,off; the men were either shot upon the mountains, like wild beasts, or put to death in cold blood, without form of tr ial; the women, after having seen their husbands and fathers murdered , were subjec ‘ted is brutal viola. tion, and then turned out naked, with their children to starve on the barren heaths. One whole { family was enclosed in a barn, and consumed to ashes. Those ministers of vengeance were so alert in the execution of their office, that in a few days there was neither house, cottage, man, nor beast, to be seen within the compass of fifty miles ; all was ruin, silence, and desolation.” I have here presented the reader with one of the most shocking instances of cruelty ever practised, and | leave it to ] ul ROP Sa oth St ert ce ok cee -32I3se5 rung eree => +447 oe ee F eeSheees See MTRTERASS TOT GS cosNeeesishiaeiieii te 5 a § rs j ¥ . 7 eI ” , SETI ELRCER ES TT ERE EELL: seseseiy See etsteererr ys Se bbeas ae Peter? ita ey ee Peteer rere, fFi74i 3334 a Pa fen ee hehe steal asa: ereckers 192 THE CRISIS. rest on his mind, that he may be fully impressed with a sense eat dasienetion he has escaped, in case Britain had ¢ ea of the destruction he has escaped, in case britain had conquete America: and likewise, that he may see and feel the necessity, as well for his own personal safety, as for the honor, the interest, and happimess of the whole community, to omit or delay no one preparation necessary to secure the ground which we so happily stand upon. TO THE PEOPLE OF AMERICA. On the expenses, arrangements and disbursements for carrying on the war, and finishing i with honor and advantage. WHEN any necessity or occasion has pointed out the conveni- ence of addressing the public, I have never made it a consider- ation whether the subject was popular or unpopular, but whether it was right or wrong; for that which is right will be- come popular, and that which is wrong, though by mistake it may obtain the cry or fashion of the day, will soon lose the power of delusion, and sink into disesteem. A remarkable instance of this happened in the case of Silas Deane; and [ mention this circumstance with the greater ease, because the poison of his hypocrisy spread over the whole Imost without exception, thought me country, and every man, al wrong in opposing him. The best friends I then had, except Mr. Laurens, stood at a distance, and this tribute, which is due to his constancy, I pay to him with respect, and that the readier, because he is not here to hear it. If it reaches him in his imprisonment, it will afford him an agreeable reflection. “Ag he rose like a rocket, he would fall like a stick,” 18 a metaphor which I applied to Mr. Deane, in the first piece which { published respecting him, and he has exactly fulfilled the de so unjustly obtained from the description. The credit he public, he lost in almost as shorta time. The delusion perished as it fell, and he soon saw himself stripped of popular support. His more intimate acquaintances began to doubt, and to desert him lone before he left America, and at his departure, he saw himself the object of eeneral suspicion. When he arrived in France, he endeavored to effect by treason what he had failed to accomplish by fraud. His plans, schemes and projects together with his expectation of being sent to Holland to negotiate a loan of money, had all miscarried. He then began traducing and accusing America of every crime which couldTHE CRISIS. 193 injure her reputation. “That she was a ruined country; that she only meant to make a tool of France, to get what money she could out of her, and then to leave her, and accommodate with Britain.” Of all which and much more, Colonel Laurens and myself when in France, informed Dr. Franklin, who had not before heard of it. And to complete the character of a traitor, he has, by letters to this country since, some of which, in his own handwriting, are now in the possession of congress, used every expression and argument in his power, to injure the reputation of France, and to advise America to renounce her alliance, and surrender up her independence.* Thus in France he abuses America, and in his letters to America he abuses France; and is endeavoring to create disunion between the two countries, by the same arts of double-dealing by which he caused dissentions among the commissioners in Paris, and dis- tractions in America. But his life has been fraud, and his character is that of a plodding, plotting, cringing mercenary, capable of any discuise that suited his purpose. His final detection has very happily cleared up those mistakes, and removed that uneasiness, which his unprincipled conduct occasioned. Everyone now sees him in the same light; for towards friends or enemies he acted with the same deception and injustice, and his name, like that of Arnold, ought now to be forgotten among us. As this is the first time that I have mentioned him since my return from France, it is my intention that it shall be the last. From this digression, which for several reasons I thought necessary to give, I now proceed to the purport of my address. I consider the war of America against Britain as the coun- try’s war, the public’s war, or the war of the people in their own behalf, for the security of their natural rights, aud the protection of their own property. It is not the war of congress, the war of the assembles, or the war of the government in any line whatever. The country first, by a mutual compact, resolved to defend their rights and maintain their independence, at the hazard of their lives and JSortunes, they elected their * Mr. William Marshall, of this city, formerly a pilot, who had been taken at sea and carried to England, and got from thence to France, brought over letters from Mr. Deane to America, one of which was directed to ““Robert Morris, Esq.” Mr. Morris sent it unopened to congress, and advised Mr, Marshall to deliver the others there, which he did. The letters were of the same purport with those which have heen already published under the signature of S. Deane, to which they had frequent reference. 13 PocErore erie UEP aor eer hese ee ry 2siStisi? ose ghee s a , pees tore | rt. ed >> =e Reseeceeere ae en ee 4 ae PD ea Lak Rerreteil ise riers sii f 4 Co . “4 + a ‘ 7 ? P Devetete ELSES ee Ca CLE re ee: 194 THE CRISIS. representatives, by whom they appointed their members of con- cress, and said, act you for us, and we will support you. ‘This ‘he true eround and principle of the war on the part of there remains nothing to do, but iS America, and, consequently, for everyone to fulfil his obligation. It was next to impossible that a new country, engaged in a new undertaking, could set off systematically right at first. She saw not the extent of the struggle that she was envolved in, neither could she avoid the beginning. that she took, and every resolution which she formed, would to reason and close the contest. Those failing, she was forced into new measures: and these, like the former, being fitted to her expectations, and failing in their turn, left her continually unprovided, and without system. ‘The enemy, likewise, was induced to prosecute the war, from the temporary expedients we adopted for carrying it on. We are continually expecting to see their credit exhausted, and they were looking to see our currency fail; and thus, between their watching us, ond we them, the hopes of both have been deceived, and the childishness of the expectation has served to increase the ex- She supposed every step } . 1, = ae ; bring ner enemy pense. ~ Yet, who through this wilderness of error, has been to blame ? Where is the man who can say the fault, in part, has not been his? They were the natural, unavoidable errors of the day. They were the errors of a’ whole country, which nothing but experience could detect and time remove. Neither could the circumstances of America admit of system, till either the paper currency was fixed or laid aside. No calculation of a finance could be made on medium failing without reason, and fluctua- ting without rule. But there is one error which might have been prevented and was not; and as it isnot my custom to flatter, but to serve man- kind, I will speak it freely. It certainly was the duty of every assembly on the continent to have known, at all times, what was the condition of its treasury, and to have ascertained at every period of depreciation, how much the real worth of the taxes fell short of their nominal value. This knowledge, which might have been easily gained, in the time of it, would have enabled them to have kept their constituents well informed, and this is one of the greatest duties of representation. They ought to have studied and calculated the expenses of the war, the quota of each state, and the consequent proportion that oSTHE CRISIS. 195 would fall on each man’s property for his defence ; and this must easily have shown to them, that a tax of one hundred pounds could not be paid by a bushel of apples or an hundred of flour, which was often the case two or three years ago. But instead of this, which would have been plain and upright deal- ing, the little line of temporary popularity, the feather of an hour’s duration, was too much pursued; and in this involved con- dition of things, every state, for the want of a little thinking, or a little information, supposed that it supported the whole expenses of the war, when in fact it fell, by the time the tax was levied and collected, above three-fourths short of its own quota. Impressed with a sense of the danger to which the country was exposed by this lax method of doing business, and the pre- vailing errors of the day, I published, last October was a twelve- month, the Crisis No. X., on the revenues of America, and the yearly expense of carrying on the war. My estimation of the latter, together with the civil list of congress and the civil list of the several states, was two million pounds sterling, which is very nearly nine millions of dollars. Since that time, congress have gone into a calculation, and have estimated the expenses of the war department and the civil list of congress (exclusive of the civil list of the several governments) at eight millions of dollars; and as the remaining million will be fully sufficient for the civil list of the several states, the two calculations are exceedingly near each other. The sum of eight millions of dollars they have called upon the states to furnish, and their quotas are as follows, which I shall perface with the resolution itself. “By the United States in congress assembled. ‘ October 30, 1781, “‘ Resolved, That the respective states he c¥#lled upon to fur .sh the treasury of the United States with their quotas of eicht millions of dollars, for the war department and civil list for the ensuing year, to be paid quarterly, in equal proportions, the first payment to be made on the first day of April next. “Resolved, That a committee consisting of a member from each state, be appointed to apportion to the several states the quota of the above sum. ‘November 2nd. The committee appointed to ascertain the proportions of the several states of the moneys to be raised for = Eee TTL hee ees ee peas ul 2) Pere pEeseS Teo TTS?" aS Peete Tt ak eas se Pe eees pus Sed ee To tet oP. Pe oe se ek Pt oe= a.¢ - ~ P Tetatasshertiseses irre iit te. . tee bees: Tes $4 4 RSE: oa re ie Ps ee Pt — eee ett errr i trees! 196 THE CRISIS. ad the expenses of the ensuing year, report the following reso- lutions: “That the sum of eight millions of dollars, as required to be raised by the resolutions of the 30th of October last, be paid by the states in the following proportion: $373,598 New Gampenite os 6s ee hee 8 ee ae 1,307,596 Massachusetts e ° e . ° ® : ® ° e e s & ° e Rhode Island e ° « ° 6 ® e ® ' e . e ‘ e . 216,984 ~ : % Pam tne Connecticut . ° ® . . ® e e s ® ® e ° ° e e ‘ 4 is YO 379.598 485.679 ). 794 ) 312,085 We ee i cra wr Caan dere ee erie ae ING W J ersey e ® « ® e e ® e e ° © e 8 e . e Yannear lw. 16 Pensyl vate . $5,000,000 “Resolved, That it be recommended to the several states, to of money for the United pay taxes for raising their quotas their own particular use.” States, separate from those laid for On these resolutions I shall offer several remarks. Ist, On the sum itself, and the ability of the country. 2nd, On the several quotas, and the nature of a union. And, 3rd, On the manner otf collection and expenditure. Ist, On the sum itself and the ability of the country. As I know my own calculation is as low as possible, and as the sum called for by congress, according to their calculation, agrees very nearly therewith, I am sensible it cannot possibly he lower. Neither can it be done for that, unless there is ready money to gg to market with; and even in that case, it is only by the utmost management and economy that it can be made to do. By the accounts which ‘were laid before the British parlia- ment last spring, it appeared that the charge of only subsisting, that is, feeding their army in Americe, cost annually four million pounds sterling, which is very nearly eighteen millions of dollars. Now if for eight millions, we can feed, clothe, arm, provide for, and pay an army sufficient for our defence, the very comparison shows that the money must be well laid out. It may be of some use, either in debate or conversation, toToy attend to the progress of the ex penses of an army, because it will enable us to see on what part any deficiency will fall, The first thing is, to feed them and provide for the sick. poem to clothe them. Third, to arm and furnish them. Fourth, to provide means for removing them from place to place. And, Fifth, to pay them. The first and second are absolutely necessary to them as men. The third and fourth are e jually as necessary to them as an army. And the fifth is et just due. Now if the sum which shall be raised should fall short, either by the several acts of the states for raising it, or by the manner of collecting it, the deficiency will fall on the tifth head, the soldiers’ pay, which would be defrauding them, and eter rally liseracing ° ourselves, [t would be a blot on the counc ils, the country, and the revo- lution of America, and a man would hereafter be ashamed to own that he had any hand in it. But if the deficiency should be still shorter, it would next fall on the fourth head, the means of removing the army from place to place; and, in this case, the army must either stand still where it can be of no use, or seize on horses. carts, wagons, or any means of transportation which it can lay hold of; and in this instance the country suffers. In short, every attempt to do a thing for less than it can be done for, is sure to become at last both a loss and a dishonor. But the auy cannot bear it, say some. This has been the most expensive doctrine that ever was held out it, and cost America aliens of money for nothing. Can the country bear to be overrun, ravaged, and ruined by an enemy! This will immediately follow here defence is locke at and defence will ever es wanting where sufl icjent revenues are not provided. But this is only one part of the Elly, The second is, that when the danger comes, invited in part by our not pre paring against it, we have been eiied in a number of instances, to expend double the sums to do that which at first might have been done for half the money. But this is not all. A third mis- chief has been, that grain of all sorts, flour, beef, fodder, horses, carts, wagons, or whatever was absolutely or imme- diately wanted, have been taken without pay. Now, I ask, why was all this done, but from that extremely weak and ex- ee ere eee rE es. Am C3eetesssed seaatse? hee ed er FASS Sagae a PPETTSiscasdeses722**; etelaceisaseenbecs See ee or mee Res te Se aoe Cees eas es ye ee198 THE CRISIS. eect setete si oree. i pensive doctrine, that the country could not bear i? That is, ‘hat she could not bear, in the first instance, that which would have saved her twice as much at last; or, in proverbial lan- guage, that she could not bear to pay a penny vO Save a pound ; the conssquence of Ww hich has been, that she has e aid a pound for a penny. Why are there so many unpaid certificates in a every man’s hands, but from the parsimony of not providing sufficient revenues? Besides, the doctrine contra- ALLIC a eaie eat) ek it self because, if is it possible that a part should? And yet this has been the case: for those things have been had; and they must be had; but the misfortune is, that they have been obtained in a very the whole country cannot bear it, how Pere. eS. EL EAE ESE: : unequal manner, and upon expensive credit, whereas, with = ready money, they ‘might have been purchased for half the = price, and nobot dy distressed. But there is eebies thought which ought to strike us, which is, how is the army to bear the want of food, clothing and ee necessaries? The man who is at home can turn him self < thousand ways, and find as many means of ease, convenience or relief: but a soldier’s life admits of none of those: their wants cannot be supplied from themselves: for an army, though it is the defence of a state, is at the same time the child of a country, or must be provided for in everything. And lastly, The doctrine is false. There are not three mil Hons of people in any part of the universe, who live so well, r have such a fund of ability as in America. The income of a common laborer, who is industrious, is equal to that of the generality of tradesmen . England. In the mercantile line, |] Have not heard an one who could be said to be a bankrupt since the war. began, and Pk hel and they have been without num a ber. In America almost every farmer lives on his own lands, and in England not one in a hundred does. In short, it seems as if the poverty of that country had made them furious, and they were determined to risk alb to recover all. Yet, notwithstanding those advantages on the part of America, true it is, that had it not been for the operation of taxes for our necessary defence, we had sunk into a state of sloth and poverty: for there was more wealth lost by neglect a ing to till the earth in the years 1776, ‘77, '78, than the quota RE AE .— of taxes amounts to. That which is lost by neglect of this kind, is lost forever: whereas that which is paid, and continues in the country, returns to us again ; and at the same time th: Reet Seoltaiatlaaat cant ieaits rien” oucaiteeaieeTHE CRISIS, 199 it provides us with defence, it operates not only as a spur, but as a premium to our industry. I shall now proceed to the second head, viz. on the several quotas, and the nature of a union. There was a time when America had no other bond of union, than that of common interest and affection. The whole coun- try flew to the relief of Boston, and, making her cause their own, participated in her cares and administered to her wants. he fate of war, since that day, has carried the calamity in a ten-fold proportion to the southward; but in the mean time the union has been strengthened by a legal compact of the states, jointly and severally ratified, and that which before was choice, or the duty of affection, is now likewise the duty of legal obligation. The union of America is the foundation-stone of her inde- pendence; the rock on which it is built; and is something so sacred in her constitution, that we ought to watch every word we speak, and every thought we think, that we injure it not, even by mistake. When a multitude, extended, or rather scattered, over a continent in the manner we were, mutually asree to form one common center whereon the whole shall move, to accomplish a particular purpose, all parts must act to- gether and alike, or act not at all, and a stoppage in any one is a stoppage of the whole, at least for a time. Thus the several states have sent representatives to assemble together in congress, and they have empowered that body, which thus becomes their center, and are no other than them- selves in representation, to conduct and manage the war, while their constituents at home attend: to the domestic cares of the country, their internal legislation, their farms, professions or employments: for it is only by reducing complicated things to method and orderly connexion that they can be understood with advantage, or pursued with success. Congress, by virtue of this delegation, estimates the expense, and apportions it out to the several parts of the empire according to their several abil- ities; and here the debate must end, because each state has already had its voice, and the matter has undergone its whole portion of argument, and can no more be altered by any par- ticular state, than a law of any state, after it has passed, can be altered by any individual. For with respect to those things which immediately concerned the union, and for which the union was purposely established, and is intended to secure, each Sor heer. e. See Ef oe etn ee 2 pet See at Pert ret py eee SS SeSsists rea oh a ees eae ek" actrees eile! % ites - . Steshegesed stata tats cS Tee T tee Trt ettieege testis Ste tiatietit itt atic 200 THE CRISIS. state is to the United States what each individual is tu the state he lives in. And it is on this grand point, this movement upon one centre, that our existence as a nation, our happiness as a people, and our safety as individuals, depend. It; may happen that some state or other may be somewhat over or under rated, but this cannot be much. The experience which has been had upon the matter, has nearly ascertained their several abilities. But even in this case, it can only admit of an appeal to the United States, but. cannot authorize any state to make the alteration itself, any more than our internal governinent can admit an individual to do so in the case of an act of assembly; for if one state can do it, then may another do the same, and the instant this is done the whole is undone. Neither is it supposable that any single state can be a judge of all the comparative reasons which may influence the collec- tive body in arranging the quotas of the continent. The circumstances of the several states are frequently varying, oecasioned by the accidents of war and commerce, and it will often fall upon some to help others, rather beyond what their exact proportion at another time might be; but even this assist- ance is as naturally and politically included in the idea of a union, as that of any particular assigned proportion; because we know not whose turn it may be next to want assistance, for which reason that state is the wisest which sets the best example. Though in matters of bounden duty and reciprocal affection, it is rather a degeneracy from the honesty and ardor of the heart to admit anything selfish to partake in the government of our conduct, vet in cases where our duty, our affections, and our interest all coincide, it may be of some use to observe their union. The United States will become heir to an extensive quantity of vacant land, and their several titles to shares and quotas thereof, will naturally be adjusted according to their relative quotas during the war, exclusive of that inability which may unfortunately arise to any state by the enemy's holding possession of a part; but as this is a cold matter of interest, I pass it by, and proceed to my third head, viz.: ON THE MANNER OF COLLECTION AND EXPENDITURE. It hath been our error, as well as our misfortune, to blend the affairs of each state, especially in money matters, with those of the United States; whereas, it is our case, conven:THE CRISIS. 20} ence and interest, to keep them separate. the United States for ca arry 1 ng on the ach state for its own di omesti gover Sa to involve the The expenses of war, and the expenses of iment, are distinct things. n 1S a source of perplexity and a cloak for fraud. I love method, because IT see and am convinced of its beauty and advantage. It is that which easy and understood, and without embarrassed and difficult. . Vege ] | : makes all OUSINeSS which, everythin s becomes There are certain powers which the people of each state delegated to their levisla tive and executive bodies, and there are other powers which the people of every state have dele ecated to congress, among which is that of conducting the war, an d, consequently, of managing the expenses attending it; | else can that be m anaged, which conce delegation from each ? > have for Hoe ms every state, but by a When a state has furnished its quota it has an undoubted right to know how it has been applied, ai nd it is as much the duty of congress to inform the state of ae one, as it is the duty of the state to provide the other, In the resolution of congress already recited, it is recom mended to the several states to lay taxes for raising their quotas of money for the United States, separate from those laid for their OWN particular Use This is a most necessary point to be observed, : tinction should follow all the w: ay through. They should levied, paid and collected separately, and kept separate in every instance. Neither have the civil officers of any state, or the government of that state, the least right to touch that money which the people pay for the support of their army and the war, any more than congress has to touch that which each state raises for its own use. This distinction will natur: ily be followed by another. It will occasion every state to examine nicely into the expenses of its civil list, and to reculate. reduce, and brit 1g it into better order than ti has Lielcnia been; because the money for that purpose must be raised ear and accounted for to the public separately. - But while the moneys of both were blended. the necessary nicety was not observed, and the poor soldier, who ought to have been the first, was ie last who was thought of. Another convenience will be, that the people, by paying the taxes separately, will know w he at they are for; and will like- wise know that those which are for the defence of the country will cease with the war, or soon after. For although, as I have ee PTE es Sere esses Pe eee Ae es PaSogags2tsa Resegceesressehecs cs cungoseotsesess cass eon €) TEES SELES xTees et eee isy. ees eats a ie . m a Pers StSeeeateeis siesbetesahytataiacqctgacdesedssecde ge ee Peper est ets eteti tte tees: Terr) Pet 4 OF es % et? | 202 THE CRISIS, before observed, the war is their own, and for the support of their own rights and the protection of their own property, yet they have the same right to know that they have to pay, and it is the want of not knowing that is often the cause of dissatis- faction. This regulation of keeping the taxes separate has given rise to a regulation in the office of finance, by which it was directed. “That the receivers shall, at the end of every month, make out an exact account of the moneys received by them respec- tively during such month, specifying therein the names of the persons from whom the same shall have been received, the dates and the sums ; which account they shall respectively cause to be published in one of the newspapers of the state; to the end that every citizen may know how much of the moneys collected from him, in taxes, is transmitted to the treasury of the United States for the support of, the war; and also that it may be known what moneys have been at the order of the superintcnd- ant of finance. It being proper and necessary that, in a free country, the people should be as fully informed of the adminis- tration of their affairs as the nature of things will admit.” It is an agreeable thing to see a spirit of order and economy taking place, after such a series of errors and difficulties. A government or an administration, who means and acts honestly, has nothing to fear, and consequently has nothing to conceal ; and it would be of use if a monthly or quarterly account was to be published as well of the expenditures as of the receipts. Eight millions of dollars must be husbanded with an exceeding deal of care to make it do, and, therefore, as the management must be reputable, the publication would be serviceable. I have heard of petitions which have been presented to the assembly of this state (and probably the same may have hap- pened in other states) praying to have the taxes lowered. Now the only way to keep taxes low is for the United States to have ready money to go to market with: and though the taxes to be raised for the present year will fall heavy, and there will natur- ally be some difficulty in paying them, yet the difficulty, in pro- portion as money spreads about the country, will every day grow less, and in the end we shall save some millions of dollars by it. We see what a bitter, revengeful enemy we have to deal with, and any expense is cheap compared to their merciless paw. We have seen the unfortunate Carolineans hunted like part- ridges on the mountains, and it is only by providing means forTHE CRISIS, 203 ya ; TQ hs » rar = 43+7 a defence that W a be kept from the same condition. ) - os ok a aon . 7 1en we think or talk about taxes, we ought to recollect that we lie down in peace and sleep in safety ; that we can follow our farms or stores or other occupations in prosperous tran- quillity*; and that these inestimable blessings are procured to us by the taxes that we pay. In this view, our taxes are pro- perly our insurance money ; they are what we pay to be made safe, and, in strict policy, are the best money we can lay out. It was my intention to offer some remarks on the impost law of five per cent. recommended by congress, and to be established as a fund for the payment of the loan-office certificates, and other debts of the United States; but I have already extended my piece beyond my intention. And as this fund will make our system of finance complete, and is strictly just, and consequently requires nothing but honesty to do it, there needs but little to be said upon it. Common SENSE PHILADELPHIA, March 5, 1782. NUMBER XIL ON THE PRESENT STATE OF NEWS. Since the arrival of two, if not three packets, in quick suc- cession, at New York, from England, a variety of unconnected news has circulated through the country, and afforded as great a variety of speculation. That something is the matter in the cabinet and councils of our enemies, on the other side of the water, is certain—that they have run their length of madness, and are under the ne- cessity of changing their measures may easily be seen into; but to what this change of measures may amount, or how far it may correspond with our interest, happiness, and duty, is yet uncertain; and from what we have hitherto experienced, we have too much reason to suspect them in everything. I do not address this publication so much to the people of America as to the British ministry, whoever they may be, for if it is their intention to promote any kind of negotiation, it is proper they should know beforehand, that the United States have as much honor as bravery; and that they are no more to be seduced from their alliance; that their line of politics is Peer LTS eee es Se ee ee Sguasdesest3ss< episissdnkeces er Tones ars Bese ae Seen tes SHAT s* Pe Fe Pet tet or eee ete oe enaea rter esterase | la ae Sap angoey 204 THE CRISIS. formed and not dependent, like that of their enemy, on chance and accident. On our part, in order to know, at any time, what the British +t will do, we have only to find out what they ought | this last will be their conduct. Forever chang- ‘ong; too distant from America to improve -n circumstances, and too unwise to foresee them; scheming without principle, and executing without probability, their whole line of management has hitherto been blunder and base- ness. Every campaign has added to their loss, and every year to their disgrace; till unable to go on, and ashamed to go back, their politics have come to a halt, and all their fine prospects to a halter. Could our affections forgive, or humanity forget the wounds of an injured country—we might, under the influence of a mo- mentary oblivion, stand still and laugh But they are engraven where no amusement can conceal them, and of a kind for which Can ye restore to us the beloved dead? governmen got to do, anc ing and forever WI there is no recompense. Can ye say to the grave, give up the murdered? Can ye obliterate from our memories those whe are no more! Think not then to tamper with our feelings by insidious contrivance, nor suffocate our humanity by seducing us to dishonor In March, 1780, I published part of the Crisis, No, VITL, in the newspapers, but did not conclude it in the following papers and the remainder has lain by me till the present day. There appeared about that time some disposition in the British cabinet to cease the further prosecution of the war, and as I had formed my opinion that whenever such a design should take place, it would be accompanied with a dishonorable pro- position to America, respecting France, I had suppressed the remainder of that number, not to expose the baseness of any such proposition. But the arrival of the next news from Eng- land, declared her determination to go on with the war, and consequently as the political object I had then in view was not become a subject, it was unnecessary in me to bring it forward, which is the reason it was never published. ‘he matter which I allude to in the unpublished part, 1 shall now make a quctation of, and apply it as the more en- larced state of things, at this day, shall make convenient or necessary. It was as follows: “ By the speeches which have appeared from the British par-THE CRISIS. 205 lament, it is easy to perceive to what impolitic and imprudent excesses their passions and prejudices have e, In every instance, carried them during the present war. Provoked at the upright and honerable treaty between Ameri ‘ica and France, the ‘y im- agined that nothing more was neccessary to be done to prevent its final ratification, than to promise, through the agency of their commissioners re varlisle, Eden and Johnson) a repeal of their once offensive acts of parli lament. The vanity of the con- ceit was as unpardonable as the experiment was impolitic. And so convinced am I of their wrong ideas of America, that ] shall not wonder if, in their last stage of political frenzy, they propose to her to hee ak her alliance aad France, and ane into one with them. Such a proposition, should it ever be made, and it has been already more than once hinted at in parliament, would discover such a disposition to perfidiousness, and such disregard of honor and morals, as would add the finishing vice to national corruption.—I do not mention this to put America on the watch, but to put England on her guard, that she do not, in the looseness of her heart, env a in Gisarace every frag- ment of her reputation” Thus far the quotation. By the complexion of some part of the news which has trans- pired though the New York papers, it seems probable that this insidious era in the British politics is beginning to make its appearance. I wish it may not, for that which is a disgrace to human nature, throws something of a shade over all the human character, is given to the whole. ‘The policy of Britain has ever been to divide America in some way or other. In the beginning of the dispute she prac- nace every art to prevent or destroy. the union of the states, well knowi ing that could she once get them to stand singly, she could conquer them unc onditionally. Failing in this project in America, she renewed it in Europe; and after the alliance had taken place. she made secret offers to France to induce her to sive up America; and what is still more extraordinary, she at the same time made propositions to Dr. Franklin, then in Paris, the very court to which she was secretly applying, to draw off America from France. But this is not all. On the 14th of September, 1778, the British court, through their secretary, Lord Weymouth, made application to the Marquis d’ Almodovar, the Spanish ambassador at London, to “ask the mediation,” for these were the words, of the court of paee each individual feels his share of the wound that’ rrere Terie cere oe ee, PEs eet ore eee nets rs APSTE SSS ETE Pes or tee ee eeeereret ele trae eed 206 THE CRISIS. Spain, for the purpose of negotiating a peace with Frances, leaving America (as I shall hereafter show) out of the question. Sain readi ly offe red her mediation, and likewise the city of Madrid as the place of conference, but withal, proposed, that the United State s of America should be ined to the treaty, and considered as independent dt tring the time the k yusine SS Was necotiating. But his was not the view of England. She wanted to draw France from the war, that she might un ninter- ruptedly pour out all her force and fury upon America; and being disappointed in this plan, as well through the open and generous conduct of Spain, as the deter mination of France, she refused the mediation which she had solicited. [ shall now give some extracts from the justifying memorial of the Spanish « court. in which she has set the conduct and character of Britain, with respect to America, in a clear and striking point of light. The memorial, speaking of the ret usal of the British court to meet in conference, with commissioners from the United States, who were to be aansidered as independent during the time of the conference, says, “It is a thing very extrardinary and even ridiculous, that the court of London, who treats the colonies as independent, not only in acting, but of right, during the war, should have repugnance to treat them as un only in acting ‘during a truce, or suspension of hostilities. The convention of Sar atoga; iG reputing General Burgoyne as a lawful pr isoner, in arelen to suspend his trial; the exchange and liberation of other prisoners made from the felonies. the having named commissioners to go and supplicate the Americans, at their own doors, request peace of them, anc treat with them and the congress: and, finally, by a thousand other acts of this sort, authorized by tlie court of London, which have been, and are true signs of the ac- knowledgment of their independence. “Tn agoravation of all the foregoing, at the same time the British cabinet answered the king of Spain in the terms alre addy mentioned, they were insinuating themselves at the court t of France by means of secret emissaries, and making very great offers to he y, to abandon the colonies and make peace with Eng- land. But there is yet more; for at this same time the English ministry were treating, by means of another certain emissary, with Dr. Franklin, minister plenipotentiary from the colonies, residing at Paris, to whom they made various proposals to dis-THE CRISIS Sey Evie P ony unite them irom France, and accommodate matters with Eng- eens lana. c Ve vy yt - = “From what has been observed, it evidently follows, that the PI] ~ | . - 1 aval 2 } whole of the British politics was, to disunite the two courts of 4 e ae Paris and Madrid, by means of the suggestions and offers which she separately made to the1 m; and also. to separate the colonies from their treaties and engagements ente red into with France. and induce them to a m against the house of Bourbon, or more probably to oppress them when the y found, from [aa ene oreaking ther Na tea that they ee alone and without pr nd otection. is, therefore is the net they laid for the American states ; oe to say, to tempt them with flattering and very magnifi ccr i cent promises to come to an accommoda ition ce them, exclusive of any ae ntion of Spain or France, that the Brich ministr Vv might always remain the arbiters of the fate of the colonies. But the Cat fi oie king (the king of Spain) faithful on the one part to the engagements which bind him to the Most ( Chris- tian king (the king of France) his nephew; just and upright on the other, to his own subjects, whom he ought to protect and guard against so many insults and finally, full of humanity and compassion for the Americans and other individuals who suffer in the present war; he is determined to pursue and pro- secute It, and to make all the efforts in his power, until he can obtain a solid and permanent peace, with full and satisfactory securities that 1t shall be observed.’ Thus far the memorial, a translation of which into English, may be seen in full, under the head of State Papers, in ihe Annual Register, ae Eh ioe fe O01 The extracts I have fore given, serve to show the various endeavors and contrivances of the enemy, to draw France from her connection with America, and to prevail on her to make a separate peace with England, leavi ing America totally out o ; the question, and at the mercy of a mercile ‘SS, UNprU neip led en- 1 7 7 emy. ‘The opinion, likewise, which Spain has formed of the British cabinet character, for meanness and perfidiousness, is so exactly the opinion of America, respecting it, that the mem- orial, in this instance, contains our own statements and languag for pe ople , however remote, who think alike, will unav« dale speak alike. Thus we see the insidious use which Britain endeavored to make of the propositions of Bee under the mediation of Spain. ! att now proceed to the second proposition under the Pee tires eeer hese eee y -3 ree rors eras ee isha er eee Se rs rd ald aoe Ve: Paystexts Pee KS he Foe pee eeSLaee S ok Pe eSare receie tice eats) eae i ee = Ee | ; heey eo te bo be 7 eee rr tities 0 hd 208 THE CRISIS. tion of the emperor of Germany and the empress of Russia ; the general outline of which was, that a congress of the several powers at war, should meet at Vienna, in 1781, to settle pre- liminaries of peace. I could wish myself at liberty to make use of all the infor- mation which I am possessed of on this subject, but as there is a delicacy in the matter, I do not conceive it prudent, at least at present, to make references and quotations in the same man- ner as I have done with respect to the mediation of Spain, who published the whole proceedings herself; and therefore, what comes from me, on this part of the business, must rest on my own credit with the public, assuring them, that when the whole proceedings, relative to the proposed congress of Vienna, shall appear, they will find my account not only true, but studiously moderate. We know at the time this mediation was on the carpet, the ectation of the British king and ministry ran high with 1e conquest of America. The English packet which was taken with the mail on board, and carried into V Orient, in France, contained letters from lord G. Germaine to Sir Henry Clinton, which expressed in the fullest terms the ministerial idea of a total conquest. Copies of those letters were sent to congress and published in the newspapers of last year. Colonel Laurens brought over the originals, some of which, signed in the hand-writing of the then secretary, Germaine, are now in my possession. Filled with these high ideas, nothing could be more insolent towards America than the language of the British court on the proposed mediation. A peace with France and Spain she anxi- ously solicited; but America, as before, was to be left to her mercy, neither would she hear any proposition for admitting an agent from the United States into the congress of Vienna. On the other hand, France, with an open, noble, and manly determination, and the fidelity of a good ally, would hear no proposition for a separate peace, nor even meet in congress at Vienna, without an agent from America: and likewise that the independent character of the United States, represented by the agent, should be fully and unequivocally defined and settled before any conference should be entered on. The reasoning of the court of France on the several propositions of the two imperial courts, which relate to us, is rather in the style of an American than an ally, and she advocated the zause of America exp respect to tlTHE CRISIS, [ 209 as if she had been America herself, like the first, proved ineffectual. But since that time, a reve British arms, and all their ] sround. ‘The noble exert Thus the second mediation, rse of fortune has overtaken the igh expecations are dashed to the ions to the southward under General Greene; the successful operations of the allied arms in the Chesapeake; the loss of most of their islands in the West Indies, and Minorea in the Mediterranean ; the persevering spirit of Spain against Gibraltar; the expected capture of Jamaica; the failure of making a separate peace with Holland, and the ex- pense of an hundred millions sterling, by which all these fine losses were obtained, have read them a loud lesson of disgrace- ful misfortune, and necessity has called on them to change their ground. In this situation of confusion and despair their present coun- cils have no fixed character. It is now the hurricane months of British politics. Every day seems to have a storm of its own. and they are scudding under the bare poles of hope. Beaten, but not humble; condemned, but not penitent ; they act like men trembling at fate and catching atastraw. From this con- vulsion, in the entrails of their politics, it is more than probable, that the mountain groaning in labor will bring forth a mouse, as to its size, and a monster in its make. They will try on America the same insidious arts they tried on France and Spain. We sometime experience sensations to which language is not equal. ‘The conception is too bulky te be born alive, and in the torture of thinking, we stand dumb Our feelings, imprisoned by their magnitude, find no way out—and, in the struggle of expression, every finger tries to be a tongue. The machinery of the body seems too little for the mind, and we look about for helps to show our thoughts by. Such must be the sensation of America, whenever Britain, teeming with corruption, shall pro- pose to her to sacrifice her faith. But, exclusive of the wickedness, there is a personal offence contained in every such attempt. It is calling us villains: for no man asks another to act the villain unless he believes him inclined to be one. No man attempts to seduce a truly honest woman. It is the supposed looseness of her mind that starts the thoughts of seduction, and he who offers it calls her a pros- titute. Our pride is always hurt by the same propositions which offend our principles; ‘for when we are shocked at the crime we are wounded by the suspicion of our compliance. 14 1 r 4 ek ete ree aE oe ot eed tos Se BE heehee Stee rT erat tt tt on &, aay rok —2.>-*Pea Tpereerte te} « A SSbb beset rsa ts EARS ES ae 7 Pee iets ei ee: 210 THE CRISIS. Could I convey a thought that might serve to reculate th public mind, I would not make the interest of the alliance the basis of defending it, All the world are moved by interest, and it affords them nothing to boast of. But I would go step higher, at nd defend it on the ground of honor and princi ple. That our ae ‘oc affairs have flourished under the allianc __that it was wisely naa , and has been no! sly executed—that by its assistance we are e neh bled to preserve our country from conquest, and e xpel those who s sought our des truction—t hat it is our true interest to maintain it unimpaired, and that while we do so no enemy can conquer us, are matters Ao, ich expe ience has taught us, and the common good of ourselves, a) stracted from princ iple os of faith and honor, would lead us t maintain the connexion. But over and above the mere letter of the alliance, we hav: nobly and generously treated, and have had the sam and a ttention paid to us, as if we had been an old estab been respee t aAvLe shed country. To oblige and be obliged is fair work among vais iis and we want an oppor tunity of showing to the world hat we are a people sensible of kindness and worthy of con Gdence. Character is to us, in our present circumstances, of more importance than interest. We are a young nation, just stepping upon the stage of public life, and the eye of the world oS is upon us to see hee we act. We have an enemy who is watching to destroy our reputation, and who will go any length to gain some evidence aga inst us, that may serve to render our conduct suspected, and our character odious; be. cause, could she accomplish this, wicked as it is, the world would withdraw from us, as from a people not to be trusted, and our task would then become difficult. There is nothing which sets the character of a nation in a cet or lower lig ht with others than the faithfully fulfilling r perfidiously br -eaking of treaties. They are things not to ie tampered with: and riould Britain, which seems ve ry aE able, propose to se duce America into such an act of pet it auld merit from her some mark of unusual detes mee It is one of those extraordinary instances in which we ought not to be contented with the bare negative of congress, because it is an affront on the ie .as well as on the covernment. [t goes on the supposition that the public are not honest men, and that they may be managed by contrivance, though they cannot be conquered by arms. But, let the world and BritainTHE CRISIS. 211 know, that we are neither a be bought nor sold. That our mind is great and fixed; our prospect clear; and that we will support our character as firmly as our independence. But I will go still further. General C Conway, who made the motion in the British parliament, for discontinuing offensive war in America, is a gentlemen of an amiable character. We have no personal quarrel with him. But he feels not as we teel; he is not in our situation, and that alone, without any other explanation, is enough. The British parliament SUpPORS they have many friends in America, and that, when all chance of conquest is over, they will be able to draw her from her alliance with France. Now, if I have any conception of the human heart, they will fail in this more than in anything that they have yet tried. This part of the business is not a question of policy only, but of honor and honesty; and the proposition will have in it something so vase low and base, that their partisans, if they have any, will be ashamed of it. Men are often hurt by a mean action who are not startled at a wicked one, and this will be such a confession of inability, such a declaration of servile thinking, that the scandal of it will ruin all their hopes. In short, we have nothing to do but to go on with vigor and determination. The enemy is yet in our country. They hold New York, Charleston and Savannah, and their very being in those places is an offence, and a part of offensive war, and antil they can be driven from them, or captured in them, it would be folly in us to listen to an idle tale. I take it for ranted that the British ministry are sinking under the impos- sibility of carrying on the war. Let them then come to a fair and open peace with France, Spain, Holland and America, in the manner that she ought to do; but until then, we can have nothing to say to them. ComMMON SENSE. PHILADELPHIA, May 22nd, 1782. NUMBER XIII. TO SIR GUY CARLETON It is the nature of compassion to associate with misfortune ; and I address this to you in behalf even of an enemy, a captain. PET LIE Cer eS ee Pa tot} SPPPlisiesasése eet s4+ ett tPteee —.>-> as St ean ho sisspirei=: eea THE CRISIS. sn the British service, now on his way to the headquarters of the American army, and unfortunately doomed to death for a crime not his own. A sentence so extraordinary, an execution so repugnant to every human sensation, ought never to be told without the circumstances which produced it: and as the des- tined victim is yet in existence, and in your hands rest his 1;fe or death, I shall briefly state the case, and the melancholy consequence. Captain Huddy, of the Jersey militia, was atta cked in a small fort on Tom’s River, by a party of refugees in the British pay and service, was made prisoner, together with his company, carried to New York and lodged in the provost of that city about three weeks after which, he was taken out of the provost down to the water-side, put into a boat, and brought again upon the Jersey shore, amd there, contrary to the practice of all na- tions but savages, was hung up on a tree, and left hanging til! found by our people, who took him down and buried him. The inhabitants of that part of the country where the murder was committed, sent a deputation to General Washington with a full and certified statement of the fact. Struck, as every human breast must be, with such brutish outrage, and deter mined both to punish and prevent it for the future, the general represented the case to General Clinton, who then commanded, and demanded that the refugee officer who ordered and at tended the execution, and whose name is Lippincut, should be delivered up asa murderer; and in case of refusal, that the person ot some British officer should suffer in his stead. The demand, though not refused, has not been complied with; and the me! ancholy lot (not by selection, but by casting lots) has fallen upon Captain Asgill, of the guards, who, as I have already men- tioned, is on his way from Lancaster to camp, a martyr to the general wickedness of the cause he engaged in, and the ingrati- tude of those whom he served. The first reflection which arises on this black business is, what sort of men must Englishmen be, and what sort of order and discipline do they preserve in their army, when in the im- mediate place of their headquarters, and under the eye and nose of their commander-in-chief, a prisoner can be taken at pleasure from his confinement, and his death made a matter of sport. The history of the most savage Indians does not produce in- stances exactly of this kind. They, at least, have a formalityin their punishments. With venge, but with your ridness of diversion. them it is the horridness of re army it is a still greater crime, the hor The British generals, who have succeeded each ot the time of General Gage to yourself, have all affected to speak in language that they have no right to. In their proclamations, their addresses, their letters to Geneval Washington, and thei supplications to congress (for they deserve no other name) they talk of British honor, British generosity, and British cleme as if those things were matters of fact; whereas, we whose eyes are open, who speak the same language with yourselves, many of whom were born on the same spot with you, and who can no more be mistaken in your words than in your actions, can declare to all the world, that so far as our knowledge goes, there is not a more detestable character, nor a meaner or more bar- barous enemy, than the present British one. With us, you have forfeited all pretensions to reputation, and itis only hold- ing you like a wild beast, afraid of your | her, from ncy, Ys to solicit our protec- the misery ot Q gap has the least spark of supposed darkened by asking, and Ae smallest favor from America; the criminal who owes ae life to the grace and mercy of the injured, is more execrated Oy But a thousand ple acing g, than he who dies. even from your lordship, can have no effect Honor, Parone, Pea every sensation of the heart, We are a people who think not as you think ; and what is equally true, you cannot feel as we feel. The situation of the two countries are exceedingly different. Ours has been the seat of war; yours has seen nothing of it. The most wanton destruction ies been committed in our sight, the most insolent barbarity has been acted on our feelings. We can look round and see the remains of burnt and destroyed houses, once the fair fruit of hard industry, and now the striking monuments of British brutality. dead whom we loved, in every part of America, and remember by whom they fell. There is scarcely a village but brings to life some melancholy thought, and reminds us of what we eres suffered, and of those we have lost | oy the inhumanity of Britain. We walk over the ee RD oe a as crore y eri sire re ase! Pt 7 Epa e ed Be hl Pee EES ee Ty te rere ees te aks ee rages eixeeesTPilir ei sorer ils. edie ee ree Y : P SSP etT EA EE RS ET ES RELL EL Sebel es vETL tte? *TlaeGZeTatrsaecese reo Soe 218 THE GRISIS. A thousand images arise to us, which, from situation, you can- not see, and are accompanied by as many ideas which you cannot know: and therefore your supposed system of reasoning would apply to nothing, and all your expectations die of them- selves. The question whether England shall accede to the independ- ence of America, and which your lords ship says is to undergo a parlame ntary discussion, is sO very simple, and composed of so few cases, t iat it scarce ely needs a debate. It is the only way out of anexpensive and ruinous war, which ee no object, and without which acknowledgment there can be no peac Bat your lor ba hip says, the sun of Great Britain will set whenever she acknowl ledges the wdependence of America.— W hereas the metaphor would have been strictly jusv, to have left the sun w holly out of the figure, and have saeied her not cence dging it to the n fluence of the moon. But the See one if true, is the greatest confession of dis- grace that could be m nade, and furnishes America with the highest notions of sovereign independent importance. Mr. W redderburne, about the year 1776, made use of an idea of much the same kind,—FRelinquish America/ says he— What 1s at but to desire a giant to shrink spontaneously into a dwarf. Alas! are those people who call themselves Englishmen, of so little internal con some that when a iS gone, or shuts her eyes upon them, their sun is set, they can shine no more, but grope about in ob scurity, and season into insignifi- cant a Was America, then, the giant of the empire, and Breland only her dwarf in waiting? Is the case so strangely altered, that those who once thought we could not live without them, are now brought to declare that they cannot exist without us? Will they tell to the world, and that from their first minister of state, that America is their all in all; that it is by her importance only that they can live, and breathe, and have a being? Will they, who long since threatened to bring us to their feet, bow themselves at ours, and own that without us they are not a nation? Are they be- come so unqualified to debate on independence, that they have lost all idea of c themselves, and are calling to the rocks and moun- tains of America to cover their insignificance? Or, if America is lost, is it manly to sob over it like a child for its rattle, and invite the laughter of the world by declarations of disgraceTHE CRISIS. Surely, a more consistent line of conduct would be to bear it without complaint; and to show that England, without America, can preserve her independence, and a suitable rank with other European powers. You were not contented while you had her, and to weep for her now is childish. ee =| } pe ' But Lord Shelburne thinks somethi1 ng may yet be done. W hat that S¢ omething Is; OF how 1t 1S to oe > accomplished, is a matter in obscurity. By arms there is no hope. ‘The experl- ence of nearly eight years, with ee expe ense of an hundred million pounds sterling, and the loss of two armies, mus posi- tively decide that point. Besides, the British have lost their interest in America with the disaffected. Every part of it has been tried. There is no new scene left for delusion: and the thousands who have been ruined by adhering to them, and have now to oy the settlements which they had acquired, and be conveyed like Heng ts to cultivate the deserts of Augustine and Nova Scotia, has put an end to all further expectations of aid. H If you cast your eyes on the people of England, what have they to console themselves with for the millions expen ded? Or, what encouragement is there left to continue throwing good money after A America can carry on the war for ten years longer, and the charges of government included, for less than you can pi ay the ch: arges of war and g overnment for one year. And I, who know t oth countries, know ¥ ell, that the people of America can afford to pay their ee of the expenses much better than the people of England can. oe des, 3 ‘ ‘ their own estates and property, their own rights, liberties government, that they are defending; and w ere ew not ie do it, eeey would deserve to lose all, and none would pity them. The fault would be their own, and their punishment se The British army in America care not how iong the war lasts. They enjoy an easy and indolent life. They fatten on the folly of one country and the spoils of another; and, between their plunder and their pay, may go home rich. But the case is very different with the laboring farmer, the working tradesman, and the necessitous poor in Ene oland, the sweat of whose brow goes day after day to feed. in prodigality and sloth, the army that is robbing both them and us. Removed from the eye of that country that supports them, and distant from the government that employs them, they cut and carve for themselves, and there is none to call them to account. Cee eT elect tee oe eo oe oe oe S PrPccSigsengsseg+is4%* Rese get ete tsdwhes 4 ae SsPsSisewies rest Fe ers Fe ea vloetecsArar 9) () THE CRISIS. Gaal fmt But England will be ruined, says Lord Shelburne, if America is independent. Then, I say, 18 England already ruined, for America 1s 1 if Lord Shelburne will not allow ePertrir teri ity hl at OM Sap veal already independent; anc this, he immediately denies the fact which he infers. Besides, to make England the mere creature of America, is paying too great a compliment to us, and too little to himself. But the declaration is a rhapsody of inconsistency. For to say, as Lord Shelburne has numberless times said, that the war uinous, and yet to continue the prosecution avainst America is r of avoiding ruin, is a lan- of that ruinous war for the purpose guage which cannot be understood. Neither is it possible to see how the independence of America is to accomplish the ruin of England after the war is over, and yet not affect 1b before. pendent of her, nor a greater America cannot be more inde enemy to her hereafter than she now is; nor can England derive less advantages from her than at present: why ther is ruin to follow in the best state of the case, and not in the worst? And if not in the worst, why is it to follow at all? That a nation is to be ruined by peace and commerce, and fourteen or fifteen millions a year less expenses than before, is a new doctrine in politics. We have heard much clamor of national savings and economy ; but surely the true economy would be, to save the whole charge of a silly, foolish and head- strong war; because, compared with this, all other retrench- ments are baubles and trifles. But is it possible that Lord Shelburne can be serious in supposing that the least advantage can be obtained by arms, or that any advantage can be equal to the expense or the danger of attempting it? Will not the capture of one army after another satisfy him, must all become prisoners? Must England ever be the sport of hope, and the victim of delusion? Some- times our currency was to fail; another time our army was to disband; then whole provinces were to revolt. Such a general said this and that; another wrote so and so; Lord Chatham was of this opinion, and Lord somebody else of another. To- day 20,000 Russians and 20 Russian ships of the line were to come; to-morrow the empress was abused without mercy or decency. ‘Then the emperor of Germany was to be bribed with a million of money, and the king of Prussia was to do wonder- ful things. At one time it was, lo here! and then it was, lo there! Sometimes this power, and sometimes that power, wasTHE CRISIS. to engage in the war, just as if*the whole world was as mad Aas and foolish as Besiw. And cue from year to year, has every straw been catched at, and every Wi lI-with-a-wisp led them a new dance. This year a still newer folly is to take plac Lord Shel- burne wishes to be sent to congress, and he batts that some- thing may be done. Are not the repeated declarations of con gress, and which all America supports, that they will not even hear any proposals whatever, until the unconditional and unequivocal inde pa of America is recognized; are not, I say, these declarations answer enough ? But for England to receive anything from America now, after so many insults. injuries and outrages, acted towards us, would show such a spirit of meanness in her, that we could not but despise her for accepting it. And so far from Lord Shelburne’s coming here to solicit it, it would be the greatest disgrace we could do them to offer it. England wou ld. appear a wretch indeed, at this time of day, to ask or owe anything to the bounty of America. Has not the name of Englis shmen blots enough upon it without inventing more? Even Lucifer would scorn to reign in heaven by permission, and yet an Englishman can creep for only an entrance into America, Or, has a land of liberty so many charms that to be door- ke eper in it is better than to be an English minister of state? But what can this expected something be? Or, if obtained, what can it amount to, but new disgraces, contentions and quarrels? The people of America have for years accustomed themselves to think and speak so freely and contemptuously of English authority, and the inveteracy is so deeply rooted, that a person inves ed with any authority from that countr y, and attempting to exercise it here, would have the life of a toad under a harrow. They would look on him as an interloper, to whom their compassion permitted a residence He would be no more than the Mungo of a farce; and if he disliked that, he must set off. It would bea station of degradation, debasec | by our pity, and despised by our pride, and would place England in a more contemptible situation than any she has yet been in during the war. We have too high an opinion of ourselves, ever to think of yielding again the least obedience to outlandish authority; and for a thousand reasons, England would be the last country in the world to yield it to. She has been treach- eter eT eri tere re res et et hee el ee Gshabesewue he See Coan kes a °F a phe SES ce ak sDetre r it ete tr es ; ed 4 for 3 od = poe = eR deishesetteasres TALL oc cet erous, and we knew it. ter is gone, and we have seen the funeral. ‘ 7 Fee ee Surely she loves to fish in 1 ‘roubled waters, and drink the } U Seen gh ate + » cha ronid n now -144 k \f nineli o her eund OL contention, or sne W et not now think Of mingings Her affairs with those of America. Tt would be like a foolish dotard taking to his arms the bride that despises him, or who has vlaced on hi s head the ensigns of her disgust. It is kissing the hand that boxes his ears, and proposing to renew the ex- change.. The thought is as serv ile as the war is wicked, and Pe shows the last scene of the drama to be as inconsistent as the first. As America is gone, the only act o1 manhood is to let her go. ] hang Li ¢ Your lordship had no hand 1 no honor by tempor ues politics. Besides, there is something so exceed lingly whimsica l, unst Get fe and even insincere in the ‘esent conduct of et that she exhibits herself in the p 7 ] la ] most dishonorable he eas Aucust last, General ¢ Carleton and Admiral > 1 in the separation, and you will gain On the second Digby wrote to General Was: ington 1 in these words: “The resolution of the House of Commons, of the 27th of February last. has been placed in Your Excellency’s hands, a nd intimations given at the same time that further pacific measures were likely to follow. Since which, until the present time, we have had no direct communications with England; but a mail +s now arrived, which brings us very important information. We are acquainted, sir, by authority, that negotiations for a general peace have already - commenced at Paris, and that Mr. Grenville is invested wi full powers to treat with all the parties at war, and is now at Paris in execution of his com- mission. And we are further, sir, made acquainted, that his to remove any obstacles to that veace which he Mayest ty, an order so ardently wi shes to restore, has commanded his ministers to direct Mr. Grenville, that the independence of the Thirteen United Provinces, should be proposed by him in the first wn- stance, instead of making vt a condition of a general treaty.” Now, taking your present measur¢ ‘s into view, and comparing them with the declaration in this letter, pray what is the word of your king, or his ministers, or the parliament, good for! Must we not look upon you asa . confederated body of faithless, treacherous men, whose assurances are fraud, and their lan- guage deceit ? What opinion can we possibly form of you, but that you .2re a lost, abandoned, profligate nation, who sporteven with your own character, and are to be held by nothing , % wv out the bayonet or the halter 2 riy zs cs S = vy 2 . . . > lo say, after this, that the sun of Great Britain will be set 7 ¥ o1thomMor . fan 8 Ba # J Ep a ELS { . W/LETLE VET she acknowle dgés the inde MPENAENCE O7 AMETICA, when the not doing it is ee Te vif Lie of Government, can be no Other than the language of ridshnt the jargon of inconsist- ency. There were thousands in America who predicted the delusion, and looked upon it as a trick of treachery, to take us from our guard, and draw off our attention from the only sys- tem of finance, by which we can be called, or deserve to b called, a sovereign, independent people. The fraud, on your part, might be worth attempting, but the sacrifice to obtain it is too high. There are others who credited the assurance, because they thought it impossible that men who had their characters to stablish, would begin it with a lie. The prosecution of the war by the former ministry was savage and horrid; since vhich it has been mean, trickish, and delusive. The one went vreedily into the passion of revenge, the other into the subtle- ties of low contrivance; till, between the crimes of both, ther is scarcely left a man in America, he he whig or tory, who does not despise or detest the conduct of Britain. | The management of Lord Shelburne, whatever may be his views, is a caution to us, and must be to the world, never to regard British assurances. A perfidy so notorious cannot Ge It stands even in the public papers of New York, with the names of Carleton at ay affixed to it. It is a pro- clamation that the king of sland is not to be believed; that the spirit ot lying is the gov rerning prince ‘iple of the ministry. [t is holding up the character of the House of Commons to public infamy, and warning all men not to credit them. Such are the consequences which Lord Shelburne’s manage- ment has brought upon his country. After the authorized declarations contained in Carleton and Digby’s letter, you ought, from every motive of honor, policy and prudence, to have fulfilled them, whatever might have been the event. It was the least alpniend out that you could possibly make to America, and the greatest kindness you could do to yourselves: for you will save millions by a general peace, and you will lose as many by continuing the war. CoMMON SENSE. PHILADELPHIA, Oct. 29, 1752, Se eee oe | ad ae pe ae ee SS iset1tt epaveyrss tae restncaa SMPs Sao gee - 224 THE CRISIS. P.S. The manuscript copy of this letter is sent your lord- ship, by the way of our headquarters, to New York, inclosing a late pamphlet of mine, addressed to the Abbe Raynal, which will serve to give your lordship some idea of the principles and sentiments of America. C.S NUMBER XV. ‘Tur times that tried men’s souls,” * are over—and the greatest and completest revolution the world ever knew, glor- iously and happily accomplished. But to pass from the extremes of danger to safety—tfrom the tumult of war to the tranquillity of peace, though sweet in contemplation, requires a gradual composure of the senses to receive it. Even calmness has the power of stunning, when it opens too instantly upon us. The long and raging hurricane that should cease in a moment, would leave us in a state rather of wonder than enjoyment; and some moments of recollection must pass, before we could be capable of tasting the felicity of repose. There are but few instances in which the mind is fitted for sudden transitions: it takes in its pleasures by reflec- tion and comparison, and those must have time to act, before the relish for new scenes is complete. In the present case the mighty magnitude of the object—the various uncertainties of fate it has undergone—the numerous and complicated dangers we have suffered or escaped—the eminence we now stand on, and the vast prospect before us, must all conspire to impress us with contemplation. Tu see it in our power to make a world happy—to teach mankind the art of being so—to exhibit, on the theatre of the universe, a character hitherto unknown—and to have, as it were, a new creation instrusted to our hands, are honors that command reflection, and can neither be too highly estimated, nor too gratefully received. In this pause then of recollection—while the storm is ceas- ing, and the long-agitated mind vibrating to a rest, let us look back on the scenes we have passed, and learn from experience what is yet to be done. * ‘These are the times that try men’s souls.” “‘‘The Crisis, No. 1.” pub- lished December, 1776.THE CRISIS. Never, I say, had a country sO many openings to happiness as this. Her setting out in life, like the rising of a fair morn- ing, was unclouded and promising. Her cause was good. Her principles just and liberal. Her temper serene and tirm. Her conduct regulated by the nicest steps, and everything about her wore the mark of honor. It is not every country (perhaps there is not another in the world) that can boast so fair an origin. Even the first settlement of America corresponds with the character of the revolution. Lome, once the proud mistress of the universe, was originally a band of ruffians. Plunder and rapine made her rich, and her oppression of millions made her great. But America need never be ashamed to tell her birth, nor relate the stages by which she rose to empire. The remembrance, then, of what is past, 1: ‘t operates rightly must inspire her with the most laudable of a. ambition, that of adding to the fair fame she began with. The world has seen her great in adversity. Struggling without a thought ci yield- ing, beneath accumulated a:fficulties. Bravely, nay proudly, encountering distress, and rising in resojution as the storm in- creased. All this is justly due to her for her fortitude has merited the character. Let then, the world see that she can bear prosperity: ana that her honest virtue in time of peace, is equal to the bravest virtue in time of war. She 1s now descending tc the scenes of quiet and domestic lite Not beneath the cypress shade of disappointment, but to enjoy in her own land and under her own vine, the sweet of her labors, and the reward of her toil.—In ths situation, may she never forget that a fair national reputation is of as much im- portance as independence. That it possesses a charm that wins upon the world, and makes even enemies civil.—That it gives a dignity which is often superior to power, and commands rever- ence where pomp and splendor fail. It would be a circumstance ever to be lamented and never to be forgotten, were a single blot, from any cause whatever, suf fered to fall on a revolution, which to the end of time must be an honor to the age that accomplished it: and which has con- tributed more to enlighten the world, and diffuse a spirit of free- dom and liberality among mankind, than any human event (if this may be called one) that ever preceded it. It is not among the least of the calamities of a long-continued war that it unhinges the mind from those nice sensations which at other times appear so amiable. The continued spectacle of 15 CeLe ere eho ter eet teh ee re el eee er eT oe tk iced id = add Te. rt eet nes teen og RTSFELLFS EES SS EE Le a eSties aot at haat rs . j i i roy g ae Poets eres & tts Peter ere ai ets eerie tise. eH 296 THE CRISIS. woe e Ley ¥ * . *y: =e } : ei z are e the sight, renders 1t Iamullar. Tn like manner, are many of the of society weakened, till the custom of acting ¢ lunts the finer feelings, and the necessity of bearing with 7 - 8 = See he cine moral obligatious by necessity becomes an apology, where it is truly a crime. Yet let but a nation conceive rightly of its character, and it will be chastely just in protecting it. None never began with a fairer than America, and none can be under a greater obligation to preserve it. [he debt which America has contracted, compared with the cause she has gained, and the advantages to flow from it, ought scarcely to be mentioned. She has it in her choice to do, and WO aes Se ee aa eae oe ae to live as happy as she pleases. Jhe world 1s In hel hands She has ho rorelen pow Cr 50 Mmonopo 1iZe@ NeCr-cOmMMerLee: perplex } ~ lagialatiay > pnnt 0] her HNraaneritry rN} Lo eal a her legislation, or control her prosperity. . Lhe struggie 1s over, Cc A. e tend Bat Tees 3, a ] aa Aes Pua) which must one aay have nappened, ana, perhaps, never eoul 1 7} | 1 L4 : Bs was 7 a . have nappeneda at a better time.* And instead of a lomineerin& ato i Fa pepe | . t 4 t 4 2 } ++ { be H * That the revolution began at the exact period ot time best titted to tne 1 cS purpose, is sutficiently proved by the event.—But the great hinge on which the whole machine turned, is the Union of the States ; and this union was naturally produced by the inability of any one state to support itself acainst any foreign enemy without the assistance of the rest. Had the states severally been less able than they were when the war began, their united strength would not have been equal to the undertaking, and they must in all human probability have failed.—And, on the other hand, had they severally been more able, they might not have seen, or, what is more, might not have felt, the necessity of uniting: and, either by attempting to stand alone, or in small confederacies, would have been separately conquered. Now, as we cannot see a time (and many years must pass away before it can arrive) when the strength of any one state, or several united, can be equal to the whole of the present United States, and as we have seen the extreme difficulty of collectively prosecuting the war to a successful issue, and pre- serving our national importance in the world, therefore, from the experience we have had, and the knowledge we have cained, we must, unless we makea waste of wisdom, be strongly impressed with the advantage, as well as the neces3ity of strengthening that happy union which has been our salvation, and without which we should have been a ruined people. While I was writing this note, I cast my eye on the pamphlet, ‘‘Common Sense,” from which I shall make an extract, as it exactly applies to the case. It is as follows: ‘‘T have never met with a man, either in England or America, who hath not confessed it as his opinion that a separation between the countries would take place one time or other; and there is no instance in which we have shown less judgment, than in endeavoring to describe, what we call, the ripe- ness or fitness of the continent for independence. ‘As all men allow the measure, and differ in only their opinion of the time, let us, in order to remove mistakes, take a general survey of things, and endeavor, if possible, to find out the very tume. But we need not to go far, the inquiry ceases at once, for the time has found us. The general concur- rence, the glorious union of all things prove the fact. ‘Tt is notin numbers, but ina union, that our great strength lies. The con.THE CRISIS. ee master, she has gained an ally, whose exemplary greatness, and universal liberality, have extorted a confession even from her enemies. With the blessings of peace, independence, and an universal commerce, the states, individually and collectivelly, will have leisure and opportunity to regulate and establish their domestic concerns, and to put it beyond the power of calumny to throw the least reflection on their honor. Character is much easier kept than recovered, and that man, if any such there be, who, from sinister views, or littleness of soul, lends unseen his hand to injure it, contrives a wound it will never be in his power to heal As we have established an inheritance for posterity, let that inheritance descend with every mark of an honorabie con vey- ance. ‘The little it will cost, compared with the worth of the states, the greatness of the object, and the value of national char- acter, will be a profitable exchange. But that which must more forcibly strike a thoughtful pene- trating mind, and which includes and renders easy all inferior concerns, is the Union of the States. On this our great national character depends. It is this which must give us importance abroad and security at home. It is through this only, that we are or can be nationally known in the world; it is the flag of the United States which renders our ships and commerce safe on the seas, or in a foreign port. Our Mediterranean passes must be obtained under the same style. All our treaties, whether of alliance, peace or commerce, are formed under the sovereignty of the United States, and Europe knows us by no other name or title. The division of the empire into states is for our own con- venience, but abroad this distinction ceases. The affairs of each state are local. They can go no further than to itself. And were the whole worth of even the richest of them expended in revenue, it would not be sufficient to support sovereignty against a foreign attack. Jn short, we have no other national sovereignty than as United States. It would even be fatal for us if we had—too expensive to be maintained, and impossible to be supported. Individuals, or individual states, may cal] themselves what they please; but the world, and especially the tinent is just arrived at that pitch of strength in which no single colony is able to support itself, and the whole, when united, can accomplish the mat- sul 5 > ‘ : Bi pee oes ag 99 ter; and either more or less than this, might be fatal in its effects. ; and eithe saan PSRRSSS AQAA worse se 3 iS. poe RRR SS tS et ek Sos to ks a he ees ple Se Paesretorietc tec tsar ae elite CT Nt SM ig gh. Per] oe ee 4 eSScecsadateteiaey eee re eis trey TET. tl puts a aa a seen aaa ee tea tarsal & ~ 28 THE CRISIS. b world of enemies, is not to be held in awe by the whistling of a name. Sovereignty must have power to protect all the parts that compose and constitute it; and as UNITED STATES we are equal to the importance of the title, but otherwise we are not. Our union, well and wisely regulated and cemented, is the cheapest way of being great—the easiest way of being powerful, and the happiest invention in government which the circum- stances of America can admit of. Because it collects from each state, that which, by being inadequate, can be of no use to it, and forms an aggregate that serves for all. The states of Holland are an unfortunate instance of the effects of individual sovereignty. Their disjointed condition exposes them to numerous intrigues, losses, calamities and enemies; and the almost impossibility of bringing their measures to a decision, and that decision into execution, is to them, and would be to us, ». source of endless misfortune. It is with confederated states as with individuals in society ; something must be yielded up to make the whole secure. In this view of things we gain by what we give, and draw an annual interest greater than the capital.—lI ever feel myselt hurt when I hear the union, that great palladium of our liberty and safety, the least irreverently spoken of. It is the most sacred thing in the constitution of America, and that which every man should be most proud and tender of. Our citizen- ship in the United States is our national character. Our citi- zenship in any particular state is only our local distinction. By the latter we are known at home, by the former to the world. Our great title is AMERICANS—-our inferior one varies with the place. So far as my endeavors could go, they have all been directed to conciliate the affections, unite the interests, and draw and keep the mind of the country together; and the better to assist in this foundation work of the revolution, I have avoided all places of profit or office, either in the state I live in, or in the United States; kept myself at a distance from all parties and party connexions, and even disregarded all private and inferior concerns: and when we take into view the great work which we have gone through, and feel, as we ought to feel, the just im- portance of *t, we shall then see, that the ttle wranglings and indecent contentions of personal parley, are as dishonorable to our characters as they are injurious to our repose. It was the cause of America that made me an author. The229 force with which it struck my mind, and the dangerous condi- tion the country appeared to me in, by courting an impossible and an unnatural reconciliation with those who were deter- mined to reduce her, instead of striking out into the only line that could cement and save her, A DECLARATION oF INDEPEN- DENCE, made it impossible for me, feeling as I did, to be silent: and if, in the course of more than seven years, | have rendered her any service, | have likewise added something to the re tion of literature, by freely and disinterested] the great cause of mankind, and show genius without prostitution. Independence always puta- ry employing it in ing that there may be appeared to me practicable and proba- ble; provided the sentiment of the country could be formed and held to the object: and there is no instance in the world, where a people so extended, and wedded to former habits of thinking, and under such a variety of circumstances, were so instantly and effectually pervaded by a turn in politics, as in the case of independence, and who supported their opinion, undiminished, through such a succession of good and ill fortune, till they crowned it with success. But as the scenes of war are closed, and every man preparing for home and happier times, I therefore take my leave of the subject. I have most sincerely followed it from 1] end, and through all its turns and windings. and whatever country I may hereafter'be in, I shall always feel an honest pride at the part I have tdken and acted, and a gratitude to nature and providence for putting it in my power to be of some use to mankind. beginning to Common SeEnss. PHILADELPHIA, April 19th, 1783 NUMBER XVI. TO THE PEOPLE OF AMERICA. In “ Rivington’s New York Gazette,” of December 6th, isa publication, under the appearance of a letter from London, dated September 30th; and is on a subject which demands the attention of the United States. The public will remember that a treaty of commerce between the United States and England was set on foot last spring, and that until the said treaty could be completed, a bill was brought Poth Se See eee trey rare et pee et or ech ee ed peeades esis ee ee Sees =] we Bk oa pea “ ne Tor. SeFissis2 tse ceeeee tateat ei ite: te A 1% a Tuk CRISIS, into the British parliament by the then chancellor of the ex- chequer, Mr. Pitt, to admit and legalize (as the case then re- quired) the commerce of the United States into the British ports and dominions. But neither the one nor the other has been completed. ‘The commercial treaty is either broken off or re- mains aS 1t began; and the bill in parliament has been thrown aside. And in lieu thereof a selfish system of English politics has started up, calculated to fetter the commerce of America, by engrossing to England the carrying trade of the American produce to the West India islands. Among the advocates for this last measure is Lord Sheffield, a member of the British parliament, who has published a pam- phlet entitled ‘“‘ Observations on the Commerce of the American States.” The pamphlet has two objects; the one is to allure the Americans to purchase British manufactures; and the other to spirit up the British Parliament to prohibit the citizens of the United States from trading to the West India islands. Viewed in this light, the pamphlet, though in some parts dexterously written, is an absurdity. It offends in the very act of endeavoring to ingratiate; and his lordship, as a politician, ought not to have suffered the two objects to have appeared together. The letter alluded to, contains extracts from the pamphlet, with high encomiums on Lord Sheffield, for labori- ously endeavoring (as the letter styles it) “to show the mighty advantages of retaining the carrying trade.” Since the publication of this pamphlet in England, the com- merce of the United States to the West Indies, in American vessels, has been prohibited; and all intercourse, except in British bottoms, the property of, and navigated by British subjects, cut off. That a country has a right to be as foolish as it pleases, has been proved by the practice of England for many years past: in her island situation, sequestered from the world, she forgets that her whispers are heard by other nations; and in her plans of politics and commerce, she seems not to know, that other votes are necessary besides her own. America would be equally as foolish as Britain, were she to suffer so great a degradation on her flag, and such a stroke on the freedom of her commerce, to pass without a balance. We admit the right of any nation to prohibit the commerce of another into its own dominions, where there are no treaties to the contrary ; but as this right belongs to one side as well asTHE CRISIS, 231 the other, there is alwa lence to reason. But the ground of security which Lord Sheffield has chosen to erect his policy upon, is of a nature which ought, and I think must, awaken, in every American ys a way left to bring avarice and inso- ,& just and strong sense of national dignity. Lord Sheffield appears to be sensible, that in advising the British nation and parliament to engross to them- selves so great a part of the carrying trade of America, he is attempting a measure which cannot succeed, if the politics of the United States be properly directed to counteract the assum p- tion. But, says he, in his pamphlet, “It will be a long time before the American states can be brought to act as a nation, neither are they to be feared as such by us.” What is this more or less than to tell us, that while we have no national system of commerce, the British will govern our trade by their own laws and proclamations as they please. The quotation disclose a truth too serious to be overlooked, and too mischievous not to be remedied. Among other circumstances which led them to this discovery, none could operate so effectually as the injudicious, uncandid and indecent opposition made by sundry persons in a certain state, to the recommendations of congress last winter, for an import duty of five per cent. It could not but explain to the British a weakness in the national power of America, and en- courage them to attempt restrictions on her trade, which other- wise they would not have dared to hazard. Neither is there any state in the union, whose policy was more misdirected to its interest that the state I allude.to, because her principal support is the carrying trade, which Britain, induced by the want of a well-centred power in the United States to protect and secure, is now attempting to take away. It fortunately happened (and to no state in the union more than the state in question) that the terms of peace were agreed on before the opposition appeared, otherwise, there cannot be a doubt, that if the same idea of the diminished authority of America had occurred to them at that: time as has ocurred to them since, but they would have made the same grasp at the fisheries, as they have done at the carrying trade. It is surprising that an authority which can be supported with so much ease, and so little expense, and capable of such exten- sive advantages to the country should be cavilled at by those Peres rhe ere es ee re pee hats ae eal ete Rees hwhkesis PGS St E SESS ir sss zigssisere aeTa . THE CRISIS. whose duty it is to watch over it, and whose existence as @ people depends upon it. But this, perhaps, will ever be the ease, till some misfortune awakens us into reason, and the in- stance now before us is but a gentle beginning of what America must expect, unless she guards her union with nicer care and stricter honor. United, she is formidable, and that with the least possible charge a nation can be so: separated, she is a medley of individual nothings, subject to the sport of foreign nations. It is very probable that the ingen uity of commerce may have ‘ound out a method to evade and supersede the intentions of the British, in interdicting the trade with the West India slands. The language of both being the same, and their customs vell understood, the vessels of one country may, by deception, oass for those of another. But this would be a practice too lebasing for a sovereign people to stoop to, and too profligate not to be discountenanced. An illicit trade, under any shape it can be placed, cannot be carried on without a violation of truth. America is now sovereign and independent, and ought to con- duct her affairs in a regular style of character. She has the same right to say that no British vessel shall enter her ports, or that no British manufactures shall be imported, but in American bottoms, the property of, and navigated by American subjects, as Britain has to say the same thing respecting the West Indies. Or she may lay a duty of ten, fifteen, or twenty shillings per ton (exclusive of other duties) on every British vessel coming from any port of the West: Indies, where she is not permitted to trade, the said tonnage to continue as long on her side as the prohibition continues on the other. But it is only by acting in union, that the usurpations of foreign nations on the freedom of trade can be counteracted, and security extended to the commerce of America. And when we view a flag, which to the eye 1s beautiful, and to contemplate its rise and origin inspires a sensation of sublime delight, our national honor must unite with our interest to prevent injury to the one, or insult to the other. ComMMON SENSE. New York, December 9, 1783. END OF THE CRISIS.et eo oe $eesdstessist429 RIGHTS’ OF MAN: BEING AN ANSWER «te esdehesec TO MR. BURKE’S ATTACK ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. ete re 3 PART L rs boa ¢: se EST LUPO TST Esse Seseres = 3FePererele tists i. 42a Tet Perea or PEE ES Es TREE Le LL TO P Seeaqtyt GEORGE WASHINGTON, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERIOA. Setetreti Tet ay ane STR,— I present you a small treatise in defence of those principles of freedom sane which your exemplary virtue hath so eminently contributed to establish. ‘That the rights of man may become as universal as your benevolence can wish, and that you may enjoy the happiness of seeing the new world regen- erate the old, is the prayer of Sir, Your much obliged, and Obedient humble servant, Tuomas Pane. see ese58, od 2 o * S s a Ps PsPART Amone the ineivilities by voke and iritate each French revolution is an nis people of France, nor the national O th RIGHTS OF MAN. whic Mr [. pa or individua ls pro- Bi instance. gmat about ae affairs of England, or ne En ment; and why Mr. Burke should commence an attack upon them, both in parliament and in public duct that cannot be pardoned on the score of manners, nor justified on that of policy. There is scarcely an epithet of abuse to be found in the Ene- lish language, with which Mr. nation and the national assembly. prejudice, ignorance or strain and on the plan knowledge forth in the copious fury of near four hundred pages. In the Mr. wrote on to as many thousand. Burke was writin o, could suggest, sur pamph! 6G On: the Neither the samblv. were tranhiine assem LY, were trouodlngo 1° | . Pan q 1 La surke has not loaded the French Everything which a Con- rancor, are poured he might have When the tongue or the pen is let loose in a frenzy ot passion, it is the man, and not the subject that becomes exhausted. Hitherto Mr. Burke has been mistaken and disappointed in the opinions he has formed on the affairs of Fr rance ; but suc h is the ingenuity of his hope, or the malignancy of He despair, that it furnishes him with new pretences to go on. a time when it was impossible to make Mr. Burke believe there would be any revolution in that the French had neither spirit to undertake it, nor forti- tude to support it; and now that there is one, he seeks an escape by condemning it. France. There was His opinion, then was. Not sufficiently content with abusing the national assembly, a great part of his work is taken up with abusing Dr. Price (one of the best hearted men that exist) and the two societies in England, known by the name of the Revolution and the Constitutional societies. Dr. Price had preached 2 sermon on the 4th of Tt November, eta oe ee] Pe es % Exes SsengSsenstes4 24 Sedvstvesdanece= i 3ee) Pererare reteset ltrs 238 RIGHTS OF MAN. 1789, being the anniversary of what is called in England the revolution, which took place in 1688. Mr. Burke, speaking of this sermon, says, ‘the political divine proceeds dogmatically to assert, that, by the principles the revolution, the people of Englana have acquired three fundamental rights Ist, To choose our own governors. 2nd, To cashier them for misconduct. 3rd, To frame a government for ourselvés.” Dr. Price does not say that the right to do these things or in that person, or in this or in that description of exists in the whole—that it is a right resi- Mr. Burke, on the contrary, denies that either in whole or in part, or exists in this persons, but that it dent in the nation. such a right exists in the nation, that it exists anywhere; and what is still more strange and marvellous, he says, that ‘“ the people of England utterly dis- claim such right, and that they will resist the pracucal assertion of it with their lives and fortunes.” That men will take up eir lives and fortunes not to maintain their ain that they have not rights, 1s an entire and suited to the paradoxical genius arms, and spend th rights, but to maint new species of discovery, of Mr. Burke. The method which Mr. Burke takes to prove that the people of England have no such rights. and that such rights do not exist in the nation either in whole or in part, or anywhere at all. is of the same marvellous and monstrous kind with what he has already said, for his arguments are, that the persons, or the generation of persons in whom they did exist, are dead, and with them the right is dead also. » To prove this, he quotes a declaration made by parliament about an hundred years ago, to William and Mary in these words: “The lords spiritual and temporal, and commons, do, in the name of the people afore- said—_(meaning the people of England then living)—most hum- bly and faithfully sebmt themselves, their heirs and posterity FOREVER ”—He also quotes a clause of another act of parlia- ment made in the same reign, the terms of which, he says, “bind us—(meaning the people of that day)—our heirs and our posterity, to them, their heirs and posterity, to the end of them.” Mr. Burke considers his point sufficiently established by pro- ducing those clauses, which he enforces by saying that they exclude the right of the nation forever ; and not yet content with making such declarations, repeated over and over again, he further says, “that if the people of England possessed suchRIGHTS OF MAN. : 239 a right before the revolution ” (which he acknowledges to have been the case, not only in England, but throughout Eurove at an early period) “yet that the English nation did, at the time of the revolution, most solemnly renounce and abdicate it, for themselves, and for all their prosterity forever.” As Mr. Burke occasionally applies the poison drawn from his horrid principles (if it is not a profanation to call them by the name of principles) not only to the English nat the French revolution and the national assemb] that august, illuminated and illuminating body of men with the epithet of usurpers, I shall sans ceremonre, place system of principles in opposition to his. The English parliament of 1688 did a certain thing, which for themselves and their constituents, they had a right to do, and which appeared right should be done; but, in addition to this right, which they possessed by delegation, they set up another right by assumption, that of binding and controlling posterity to the end of time. The case therefore divides itself into two parts; the right which they possessed delegation and the right which they set up by assumption The first is admitted; but with respect to the second, I reply :-— There never did, nor never can exist a parliament, or any description of men, or any generation of men, in any country, possessed of the right or the power of binding or controlling posterity to the “end of time,” or of commanding forever how the world shall be governed, or who shall govern it; and therefore all such clauses, acts, or declarations, by which the makers of them attempt to do what they have neither the right nor the power to do, nor the power to execute, are in them- selves null and void. Every age and generation must be as free to act for itself, in all cases, as the ages and generations which preceded it. The vanity and presumption of governing beyond the grave, is the most ridiculous and insolent of all ty~annies, Man has no property in man; neither has any generation a property in the generations which are to follow. The parlia- ment or the people of 1688, or of any other period, had no more right to dispose of the people of the present day, or to bind or to control them in any shape whatever than the parliament or the people of the present day have to dispose of, bind or con- trol those who are to live a hundred or a thousand years hence. Every 2éneration is and must be competent to all the purposes which its occasions require. It is the living and not ion, but ¢ vO y, and charges another . 1 Por eee ae ree Peres errr ere ere ete ot lec Peet eo Lee ee 2 Seeeesh ee ries eRe he cre (TEE P TS OP Tee eee 6 Be eee bs ahr hed eee Ss sEriye eee ae x GieetacePere rersi ete i re: eae 4 « mtytatatas eee tee SET eS Ss 9 A() RIGHTS OF MAN. fad the dead, that are to be accommodated. When man ceases to be, his powers and his wants cease with him; and having no longer any participation in the concerns of this world, he has no longer any author ity in directing who shall be its governors, or how Its ; ment, nol > Tea et at purke Genes 1b. ut WYV 5 aA Z el . ASSUME au iis 18 NOW SO ex} monstrous as hardly mon principle. authority of parliament, omnipotent as it has called itself, can . sovernment shall be organized, or how administered. for, nor against, any form of govern- : 1 7 mm) ‘e or elsewnere. i nat } ¢ I am not contending for nor against any party, her hich a whole nation chooses to do, it has a right to do. Mr. 1 Jam con— being willed Where then does the right exist nding for the right of the /éving and against then snd controlled and contracted for, by the manuscript sthority of the dead; and Mr. Burke 1s contending the dead over the rights and freedom of c } ] ats t or the authority or tne the living. ‘There was a time when kings disposed of their q oa =. 4 5 a Es y Al s = ait crowns by will upon their death-beds, and consigned the people 51 £ he 4 1 - x7] SITOY QI , ~» thay : ‘ke beasts of the field, to whatever successor they appointed. nloded as scarcely to be remembered, and so to be believed: but the parliamentary Mr. Burke builds his political church are clauses upon which Mr. 5 of the same nature. The laws of every country must be analogous to some com- In England no parent or master, nor all the bind or control the personal freedom even of an individual be~ yond the age of twenty-one years: on what ground of right en could the parliament ot 1688, or any other parliament, bind all posterity for ever q Those who have quitted the world, and those who are not arrived yet in it, are as remote from each other as the utmost stretch of mortal imagination can conceive: what possible obligation then can exist between them, what rule or principle can be laid down, that two nonentities, the one out of exist- ence and the other not in, and who never can meet in this world, that the one should control the other to the end of time? In England, it is said that money cannot be taken out of the pockets of the people without their consent ; but who author- ized, and who could authorize the parliament of 1688 to con- trol and.take away the freedom of posterity, and limit and ¢on- fine their right of acting in certain cases forever. who were not in existence to give or withhold their consent + A greater absurdity cannot present itself to the understand- ing of man than what Mr. Burke offers to his readers. Hea RIGHTS OF MAN. 241 tells them, and he tells the world to come, that a certain Eas of men, whe existed a hundred years ago, made a law, and the there do es not now exist in the nation, nor never will nor never an, a power to alter it. Under how many subtleties, or ab- a ee has the divine right to govern been imposed on the ‘redulity of mankind : Mr. Burke has discovered a new one, ind he has shortened his journey to Rome, by appealing to the power of this infallible parliament of former day s; and he pro- duces what it has done as of divine authority ; for that power must be certainly more than human, which no human power to the end of time can alter. 3ut Mr. Burke has done some service, not to his cause, but to his country, by bringing those clauses into public view. The “y serve to de monetrate how nece ssary lt is at ‘all times to watch vvainst the attempted encroachment of power, and ©O prevent its running to excess. It is somewhat extraordinary that the offence for which James II. was expelled, that of setting up power by assumption, should be re-enacted under another shape und form by the parliament that expelled him. It shows that he rights of man were but imperfectly understood at the re- olution ; for certain it is that the richt which t that parliament t up by assumption (for by delegation it had not, atta could not have it, because none could give it) over the persons and reedom of posterity forever, was of the same tyrannical un- founded kind which James attempted to set up over the parka- inent and the nation, and for which he was expelled. The only difference is (for in principle they differ not) that the one was an usurper over the living, and the other over the nborn ; and as the one has no better authority to stand upon han the other, both of them must be equally null and void, ind of no effect. From what or whence does Mr. ae prove the right of any human power to’bind posterity forever? He has produc ced his clauses ; but he must produce also his proofs that such a right existed, and show how it existed. If it ever existed it must now eon ; for whatever appertains to the nature of man can not be annihilated by man. It is the nature of man to die, and he will continue to die as long as he continues to be born. But Mr. Burke has set up a sort of political Adam, in whom all posterity are bound forever ; he must therefore prove that his Adam possessed such a power or such a right. The weaker any cord is, the less it will bear to be stretched, 16 PpePDPSeFes sar Reisessteekess Pet Tees po re PSRGstTESLIGSlsF saeesigRgae PoP ar kk ee oe Bescsecte tees dweeca Seieserse ts b Be eae co sei creeper es eee Re eS ES Tipe bey oe Tepeer teteae rir ‘+> hat Papers eis Serta aEh Ts iit WAN. and the Worse } ; bal a4 49 ee de ee ay vee | 5 tne policy to stretch 1t unless it 1s Intended to i v : 1 1 18 break it. Had a person contemplated the overthrow of Mr. = 17 4 : ] es ae 1 3 Burke’s pos sitions he woud have proceeaea as iJVLYr. Burke nas act 1 : a al ; | “44 He would have magnified the autnorities led / done on purpt se to h 1ve Callea ) € ug Lt OL the nO int< ) questiol Le. and the instant the juestion of right was starte d the authorities must have been given ut It requires but a very small glance of thought to perceive that alehoug h laws made in one generation often continue in orce through succeeding generations, yet they continue to derive their force from the consent of the living. A law not abe led continues in force, not because it cannot be repealed, but. because it as not Tapesten and the non-repealing passes for consent. But Mr. ee clauses have not even this qualification in their favor. They become null by attempting to become im- mortal. The nature of them preclude s consent. They destroy the right which they might have by grounding it on a right W hich they cannot have Immortal power is not a human right, and therefore cannot he a right of parliament. The parli zment of 1688 might as well have passed an act to have Auihanuad itself to hie forever. as to make their authority live forever. All, therefore, that can be said of them is that they are a form- ality of words of as much import as if those who used them had addressed a col neratulation to themselves, and, in the oriental style of antiquity, had said, O! parliament, live for ever! The circumstances of the world are continually changing, and the opinions of men change also ; and as government is for the living, and not for the dead, it is the living only that has any right init. That which may be thought right and found convenient in one age, may be thought wrong a and found incon- venient in another. In such cases who is to “decide, the living, or the dead ? As almost one hundred pages of Mr. Burke’s book are em- yloyed upon these clauses, it will consequently follow, that if the clauses themselves, so far as they set up an assumed, usurped, lominion over posterity forever, are una yuthoritative, and in their nature null and void, that all his voluminous inferences ane declamation drawn dhentotaith or founded thereon, are null and void also: and on this ground T rest the matter. We now come more particularly to the affairs of France. Mr. Burke’s book has the appearance of being written as 1n- struction to the French nation: but if I may permit myself theuse of an extra vagant metaphor, suited to the extravagance of ne case, 1t is darkness attem pting to illuminate licht, While I am writing this, there is accidentally before proposais Tor a declaration of rights by the Marquis d ette (I ask his pardon for using his former address. only for distinction’s sake) to the national assemb] y Ol of July, 1789, three days before the taking of the Bast; { cannot but |} e struck how opposite the sources are from has "Ay tliat LT ¥ ’ é - ° . es vnat gentieman and Mr. Burke draw their principle: Ll} INC! S. or reterring to musty records and mouldy parchments a at 45) ee fe Ce 4 . ce a li c i 7 that the rights of the living are lost. ‘renounced and ; forevene (hes fino lik hee ee. ae r forever by those who are now no more, as Mr. Burke e ? 34 = 5 ee ee é ou done, M. de la Fayette applies to the living world. ically says, “Call to mind the sentiments which natur e has en- graved in the heart of every citizen, and which take a a new force when they are solemnly recognized by all; for a nation to love liberty, it is sufficient that she knows it: and to be free it is sufficient that she wills it.” How dry, barren and obscure, is the source from which Mr. Burke labors ; and how ineffec- ual, though embellished with flowers, is all his declamation and his argument, compared with these clear, concise and soul-ani- mating sentiments : few and short as they are, they lead on to a vast field of generous and manly thinking, and do not finish, like Mr. Burke’s periods, with music in the ear, and nothing in the heart. As I have introduced the mention of M. de la Fayette, I will take the liberty of adding an anecdote respecting his farewell address to the congress of America in 1783, and which occurred fresh to my mind when I saw M> Burke’s thundering attack on the French Revolution.—M. de la Fayette went to America at an early period of the war, and continued a volunteer in her service to the end. His conduct throughout the whole of that enterprise is one of the most extraordinary that is to be found in the history of a young man, scarcely then twenty years of age. Situated in a country that was like the lap of sensual pleasure, and with the means of enjoying it, how few are there to be found that would exchange such a scene for the woods and wilderness of America, and pass the flowery years of youth in unprofitable danger and hardship! But such is the fact. When the war ended, and he was on the point of taking hi: final departure, he presented himself to congress, and contem- plating, in his aftectionate farewell, the revolution he had seen, - ree ee ; SsPhacaesstsakety Fh, cab ht ata Be i eer eter es ye ee eh cee oreo re) i a Sigrasgsste- Smhecese re ee eeseseh sees ry yee ee LRAGSETOTET RS eS Pal a r Fo : Le ; fe 2 Pers é = ‘ te 3 ’ X etytetaias Pee cece cae tteg bees Se btee . king of France. But the pri DAA RIGHTS OF MAN. expressed himself in these words: “ day this great monument raised to Liberty, serve as a lesson to the oppressor, and an ex- umple to the oppressed /” When this address came to the hands of Dr. Franklin, who was then in France, he applied to Count Vergennes to have it inserted in the French ‘‘Gazette,” but never could obtain his consent The fact was, that Count Vergennes was an aristocratic | d ie at home, and dreaded the example of the Ame~ican revo al ition in France, as certain other persons now dread the example of the French revolution in England ; and Mr. Burke’s ee of fear (for in this hight it must be considered) runs ‘allel with Count Vergennes’ refusal. But YT) ee to return more sartivaldly to his work. «“ We have seen (says Mr. Burke) the French rebel against a mild and lawful monarch, with more fury, outrage and insult, than any people has been known to raise against the most il- . he - 2 Ia y TY } Gi ? TI} a is YO legal usurper, or the most sanguinary tyrant.”—TIhis 1s one among a thousand other instances, in which My. Burke sho t of the springs and principles of the French that he is ignorant Revolution. [t was not against Louis XVI. but against the despotic prin- ciples of the g government, that the nation revolted. ‘These prin~ ciples had not their origin in him, but in the original establish - ment, many Ni iaiies back , and they were become too deeply rooted to be removed, and the Augean stable of parasites and plunderers too abominably filthy to be cleansed, by anything short of complete and universal revolution. When it becomes necessary to do a thing, the whole heart should join in the measure, or it should not be attempted. That crisis was then arrived, and there remained no choice but to act with determined vigor or not to act at all. The king was known to be the friend of the nation, and this circumstance was favorable to the enterprise. Perhaps no man brought up in the style of an absolute king, ever possessed a heart so bttle disposed to the exercise of that species of power as the present inciples of the government itself still remained the same. The monarch and monarchy were distinct and separate things ; and it was against the established despotism of the latter, and not against the person or principles of the former, that the revolt commenced, and the revolution has been carried on. Mr. Burke does not attend to this distinction between men and principles, and therefore he does not see that a revolt mayRIGHTS OF MAN. Q45 take place against the despotism of the latter, while there lies no charge of despotism against the former. The natural moderation of Louis XVI. contributed nothing to alter the hereditary despotism of the monarc chy. All the tyrannies of former reigns, acted under that hereditary despot- ism, were still liable to : be revived in the hands of a successor. It was not the respite of a reign that would satisfy France, en- lightened as she was then become. A casual discontinuance of the practice of despotism, is not a discontinuance of its prin- ciples , the former depends on the virtue of the individual who is in immed iate possession of the power; the latter, on the virtue and fort Haeiar the nation. In the case of Charles I. and James II. of England, the revolt was against the persona] cee of the men; whereas in France it was against the here- ditary despotism of the established government. But men who can consign over the rights of posterity forever on the oe of a mouldy parchment, like Mr. Burke, are not qualified to judge of this revolution. It takes in a field too vast for their views to explore, and proceeds witha michtiness of reason they cannot ety pace with. But there are many poin ts of view in which this revol ition may be considered. Wh en laos has established itself for aces in a country, as in France, it is not in the person of the king only that it resides. It has t the appearance of b elng so in show, and in nominal authority . but it is uot So in practice, and in fact. It has its stant everywhere. Every oflice and department has its despotism, founded upon custom and usage. Every place has its Bastile, and,every Bastile its des- pot. The original heri es] — re aie 1t in the person of the king, divides and sub-divides itself into a thousand 7 } > 7 i cers nate Sd 1 arntc J } a a 77 shaves and forms, till at last tl of it is acted by depu- tation.—This was the case in France ; sit against this species t, labyrinth of eee 1e whnoie 1 a of despotism, proceeding on through an endles 4 4 Y = Sg 4 ° y> “17 Ws ee oe 3 = wh hl har ‘ office till the source of it 1s scarcely perceptible, there is no Ii j Ino the y~ f redress. It strengthens itself by assuming the appear- mode of red of duty, and tyrannizes under the pretence of obeying. When a man sone on the condition which France was in from the nature of her government, he will see other causes for revolt than those which immediately connect themselves with the person or character of Louis XVI.—tThere were, if I may so express it, a thousard despotisms to be reformed in France, which had grown up under the hereditary despotism of the eictiee rer Pres Steet ieee teeth Pa rey ere eee Tt a rEey yp aee eee eeeh Te RL SORE ES TI ts bt eee CTI re tr teat ey et —_ ere $4 PLT ESAGS TOE eset Els eR ae etree aePeticieiiie teeta r hice So aa amend cd eet tease Peers itis! 24 6 RIGHTS OF MAN. monarchy, 47d become so rooted as to be in a great measure inde- e ca of it. Between the monarchy, the parliament , and the church, there was a rivalship of despotism : : besides the feudal dcep0 steer operating locally, and the ministerial despotism op- + ‘ating everywhere. But Mr. Burke by considering the king T) Vv x Cc the cnly possible ol ject of a revolt, speaks as if France was av a as in which everything that passed must be known to its commanding officer, and no oppression could be acted but what he could immediately control. Mr. Burke might have been in > Bastile his whole life, as well under Louis X VI. as Louis XIV ., and ee the one nor the other have known that such a man as Mr. Burke existed. The despotic principles of the sovernment were the same in both reigns, though the disposi~ tl tions of 1@ men were as Pompe aS UY re Anny and i renevolenc: What Mr. Burke considers as a reproach to the French revo- lution, that of bringing it aed under a reign more milc than the preceding ones, is one of its highest honors. The re- volutions that have taken place in other European countries, have been excited by personal hatred. The rage was against the man, and he became the victim. But, in the instance of France, we see a revolution generated in the rational contem- plation of the rights of man, and distinguishing from the be- sinning between persons and principles. But Mr. Burke appears to have no idea of principles, when he is contemplating governments. ‘Ten years ago,” says he, ‘“‘T could have felicitated France on her having a government, without inquiring what the nature of that government was or how it was administered.” Is this the language of a rational man? Is it the language of a heart feeling as it ought to feel for the rights and happiness of the human race? On this ground, Mr. Burke must compliment every government in the world, while the victims who suffer under them, whether sold into slavery or tortured out of existence, are whelly forgotten. It is power and not principles, that Mr. Burke venerates ; and under this abominable depravity, he is disqualified to judge between them. Thus much for his opinion as to the occasion of of the French revolution. I now proceed to other considertions. T know a place in America called Point-no-Point; because as you proceed along the shore, gay and flowery as Mr. Burke’s language, it continually recedes, and presents itself at a dis- tance a-head; and when you have got as far as you can go, there is no point at all. Just thus is it with Mr. Burke’s pedRIGHTS OF. MAN. 247 three hundred and fifty-six pages. It is therefore difficult to reply to him. But as the points that he wishes to establish may be inferred from what he abuses, it is in his paradoxes that we must look for his arguments, As to the tragic paintings by which Mr. Burke has out raged his own imagination, and seeks to work upon that of his read- ers, they are very well calculated for theatrical representation, where facts are manufactured for the sake of show, and ac- commodated to produce, through the weakness of sympathy, a weeping effect. But Mr. Burke should recollect that he is writing history, and not plays; and that his readers will ex ect truth, and not the spouting rant of hivh-toned deciarnation. When we see a man dramatically lamenting in & publication intended to be believed, that “ Phe age of chwalry ts gone,” that “the glory of Hurope is extinguished Jorever;” that “ the unbought grace of life (if any one knows what it is,) the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic en- terprise 1s gone!” And all this because the Quixotic age of chivalric nonsense is gone, what opinion can we form of his judgment, or what regard can we pay to his facts? In the rhapsody of his imagination, he has discovered a world of windmills, and his sorrows are, that there are no Quixotes to attack them. But if the age of aristocracy like that of chivalry, should fall, and they had originally some connection, Mr. Bu rke, the trumpeter of the order. may continue his parody to the end, and finish with exclaiming—“ Othello’s occupation’s gone!” Notwithstanding Mr ] { 5urke’s horrid paintings, when the French revolution is compared with that of other countries, the astonishment will be, that it is marked with so few sacrifices ; but this astonishment will cease when we reflect that it was princeples, and not persons, that were the meditated objects of destruction The mind of the nation was acted upon by a higher stimulus than what the consideration of persons could inspire, and sought a higher conquest than could be produced by the downfall of an enemy Among the few who fell, there do not appear to be any that were intentionally singled out. They all of them had their fate in the circumstances of the mo- ment, and were not pursued with that long, cold-blooded, un- abated revenge which pursued the unfortunate Scotch, in the affair of 1745, Through the. whole of Mr. Burke’s book I do not observe pat the Bastile is mentioned more than once, and that with a SSgss F235 Pee eery ers pa FSFST“FS EEC OLE ae458 RIGHTS OF MAN, kind of implication as if he was sorry it is pulled down, and wished it was built ea again. ‘‘ We have rebuilt Newgate (says he) and tenanted tl 1e mansion; and we have prisons almost as strong as the Bastile for those who dare to libel the Queen of France.”* As to what a madman, like the person called Lord George Gordon, might say, and to whom Newgate is rather a bedlam than a prison, it is unworthy a rational consideration. It was a madman that libelled—and that is sufficient apology, and it afforded an opportunity for confining him, which was the thing pated for: but certain it is that Mr. Burke, who does not call himself a madman, whatever other people may do, has libelled, ie the most unprovoked manner, and in the grossest So style of the most vulgar abuse, the whole r representativ e author- ity of France; and )j ret Mr. Burke takes his seat in the British House of ae From his violence and his grief, his silence on some points and his excess on others, it is difficult not to believe that Mr. Burke is sorry, extremely sorry, that arbitrary power, the power of the pope and the Bastile, are pulled ar & Not one glance of compassion, not one commiseratine reflec- 5 I 5 tion, that I can find throughout his book. has he bestowed on 3 ey ] 1 those that lingered out the most wretched of lives, a life without hope, in the most miserable of prisons. It is painful to behold ot himself. Nature has nOy 7 ATT .¢ LL; + ] ro + IATYVWNY a man employing His talents to corruy C haan i suena Nias anal san i eee oa 7 oF been kinde? to Jlyvil OuUrkKé than ne has to her. He 1 BS IYO aie fee ee ee i a ey } rt, but a ected DY the realty OF aistress touc hing og his he SAT OUT ae ao eae . Ty the shor V Vi resem blance OF LoS1 riking his mas gin ration. BLe Bities the plumage but forgets the dying ack Accustomed to kiss the aristocratical hand that hath purhoned him from him- self, he degenerates into a composition of at and the genuine soul of nature forsakes him. His hero or his heroine must be a tragedy-victim expiring in show, and not the real prisoner of misery, sliding into death = the silence of a dungeon. * Since writing the ab ove, two other places occur in Mr. Blake’s pamphlet in which the name of Bastile is mentioned, but inthe same manner. In the one, he intr phe it in a sort of obscure question, and asks—“‘ Will any ministers who now serve tied aking with but a decent appearance of re- spect, cordially obey the orders of those whom but the other day, in his name, they had committed to the Bastile?” In the other the taking it is mentioned as implying criminality in the French guards who assisted in demolishing it—‘ 7 ihey have not,” says he, ‘‘forgot the taking the king castles at Pavis.” This is Mr. Burke, who pretends to write on soilse>- tional freedom.RIGHTS OF MAN. 249 As Mr. Burke has passed over the whole transaction of the Bastile (and his silence is nothi ng in his favor) and has enter- tained his readers with reflections on Supposed facts, distorted into real falsehoods, I will give, since he has not, some account of aoe. circumstances which preceded that bee They will serve to show that less mischief could scarce have accom- panied such an event when considered w ith the treacherous and hostile aygravations of the enemies of the revolution. The mind can hardly picture to itself a more tremendous scene than what the city of Paris exhibited at the time of tak- ing the Bastile, and for two days before and aft ter, nor conceive the DPE OMY of its quieting S0..Soont.. -At. a distance. this transaction has appeared only as an act of heroism standing on oe fs the close political connexion it had with the revo- lution is lost in the brill liancy of the achievement. But we are to consider it as the strength of the parties, brought man to man, and contending for the issue. The Bastile was to be either the prize or the prison of the assailants. The downfall of 1t included the idea of the sonny ll of despotism ; and this pap eS ee image was become as fi gure mainly united, as Bun- an’s Doubting Castle and gian ADs The national assembly oo e and at ah time of taking the Bastile, were sitting at Versailles, twelve miles distant from Paris. About a week before the rising of the Parisians and forming, at the head of which was Aas ] 7 > he > i Sr HS j their taking the Bastile, is was discovered that a plot was the count d’Artois, the king’s younge st brother, for demolishi ung the national assembly, seizing J S ts members, and there by crushing, by a coup de main, all oe > prospects of form ine airee government. For the sake of hum: anity, as well as of freedom, it is well this plan did not succeed. Examples are not wanting to show how dreadfully vindictive and cruel are all old governments, when they are successful against what a call a revolt This plan must have been some time in. contemplation ; be- cause, in order to carry it into execution, it was necessary to collect a large military force round Paris, and to cut off the communication between that city and the national assembly at Versailles. The troops destined for this service were c hiefly the foreign troops in the pay of France, and who for this BRE ticular purpose, were drawn from the distant provinces where they were then stationed. When they were collected, to the amount of between twenty-five and thirty thousand, it was Pe oe eee it ay oer] ae te tere ter eee eIgsetts Seeeerreors+s4 ph el od So at al ce ee eae ee ee aa SS 2 SE ess stst be - a eea § SeSeFe3ee eS anne RIGHTS OF MAN. judged time to put the plan in execution. The ministry whe were then in office, and who were friendly to the revolution, were instantly dismissed, and a new ministry formed of those who had concerted the project:—among who was count de Broglio, and to his share was given the command of those troops. The character of this man, as described to me in a letter which I communicated to Mr. Burke before he began to write his book, and from an authority which Mr. Burke well knows was good, was that of “a high flying aristocrat, cool, and cavable of every mischief.” While these matters were agitating, the national assembly stood in the most perilous and critical situation that a body of men can be supposed to actin. They were the devoted victims, and they knew it. They had the hearts and wishes of their conntry on their side, but military authority they had none. The guards of Broglio surrounded the hall where the assembly sat, ready, at the word of command, to seize their persons, as nad been done the year before to the parliament in Paris. Had the national assembly deserted their trust, or had they exhibited signs of weakness or fear, their enemies had been meouraged, and the country depressed. When the situation they stood in, the cause they were engaged in, and the crisis then ready to burst which would determine their personal and political fate, and that of their country, and probably of Europe, re taken into one view, none but a heart callous with prejudice, or corrupted by dependence, can avoid interesting itself in their success. The archbishop of Vienna was at this time president of the ational assembly ; a person too old to undergo the scene that a few days, or a few hours, might bring forth. A man of more activity, and bolder fortitude, was necessary ; and the national assembly chose (under the form of vice-president, for the presi dency still rested in the archbishop) M. de la Fayette ; and this is the only instance of a vice-president being chosen. It was at the moment this storm was pending, July 11, that a declara- tion of rights was brought forward by M. de la Fayette, and is the same which is alluded to in page 51. It was hastily drawn up, and makes only a part of a more extensive deciara- tion of rights, agreed upon and adopted afterwards by the national assembly. The particular reason for bringing it for- ward at this moment (M. de la Fayette has since informed me) was, that if the national assembly should fall in the threatenecRIGHTS OF MAN, 25) destruction that then surrounded it, some trace might have a chance of surviving the wreck. Everything was now drawing to a crisis. 4 of its principles The event was freedom or slavery. On one s ie an army of near ‘ly thirty thousand men; on the other an unarmed body of citizens, for the citizens of Bais on whom the national] assembl; 7 must then unmediate] ly depend, were as unarmed and undiscin]} Lined 2s the citizens of London are now. ‘The French guards had given strong symptoms of their | being attached to ta nationn! cause: but thes numbers were small, not a tenth part of the force which Broglio commanded, and their officers were in the interest of Brogl lio. Matters being now ripe for e xecution, th: w ministry made their appearanc e in office. The reader will carry in his mind, that the Bastile was taken the 14th of July : the point of time [ am now speaking to, is the 12th. As soon as the nev Ws of the change of mini istry reached Paris in the after noon, all the play-Kouses and places of entertainment, shops and houses. vere shut up. The change of ministry was considered as the se of hostilities, and the opinion was rightly founded. The foreign tr oops began to advance towards the city. The prince de Lambesc, who commanded a body of German cava lry, approached by the » palace of Louis XV. which connects itself with some of the streets. In his march he insulted and struck an old man with his sword. The French are remarkable for their respect to old age, and the insolence with which it ap- peared to be done, uniting with the general fermentation they were in, produced a po werful ef ffect, and a cry of to arms/ to arms / spread itself in a moment over the whole city. Arms they had none, nor scarc ely any ee knew the use of them; but desperate resolution, when every hope is at stake sup- plies, on a While, the want of arms. Near where the prince de Lambese was drawn up, were large piles of stones collected for building the new br idge, and with these the people attacked the cavalry. A party of the French guards, upon hearing the fir- ing, rushed from their quarters and. joined the people; and night coming on, the cavalry retreated. The. streets of Paris, being narrow, are favorable for defence ; and the loftiness of the houses; consisting of many stories, from which great annoyance might be given, secured them against nocturnal enterprises ; and the night was spent in providing themselves with every sort of weapon they could make or bro- ee eT eC RT Se tet ot pt et PP Pee ee eee eee eT TT ey RRR RS Pe ek ee ed eStriits a Ces est Bspts t ste re ee iar: Raa} 252 204 RIGHTS OF MAN. cure: guns, swords, black smiths’ hammers, carpenters’ axes, iro: crows, pikes, halberds, pitchfork s, spits, clubs, &c. The incredible numbers with “lial sh they as ssembled the nex morning, and the still more incredible resolution they exhibited embarr assed and astonished their enemies. Little did the new Bs istry expect such a salute. Accustomed to slavery them selves, they had no idea that liberty was capable of such in sviration, or that a body of unarmed citizens would dare face the military force of thirty thousand men. Every moment of this day was employed in colle cting arms, concerting plans, and arranging themselves in the best order which such an instan taneous movement could afford. Brogho ssc a lying around the city, but made no further advances this day, and the suc ceeding night passed with as much tranqui sally as much a scene could x possibly | produce. Bur the Hie sect only was not the object of the citizens. They had a cause at stake, on which de pended their freedom or their slavery. ‘They every moment expected an attack, or to hear of one made on the national assembly ; and in such a situation, the most prompt measures are sometimes the best. The object that now presented itself, was the Bastile; and the eclat of carrying such a fortress in the face of sueh an army, could not fail to strike terror into the new ministry, who had scarcely yet had time to meet. By some interce] pted corr espondence this mor- ning, it was discovered that the mayor of Paris, M. de Flesseles, who appeared vo be in then interest, W as betraying them; and from thee discovery there remained no doubt that Broglio would reinforce the Bastile the ensuing evening. It was therefore necessary to attack it that day ; but before this eo a be done it was first necessary to procure a better supply of arms than yal were then possessed of. f oining to the city, a large magazine of arms a ah ‘ae hospital of the invalids, which the citizen summoned to surrender; and as the place was not dete matistes nor attempted much defence, they soon succeeded. * ‘hus. sup- plied, they marched to attack the Bastile; a vast mixed multi- tude of all ages and of all degrees, and armed with all sorts of sapons. Imagination would fail of describing to itself the appearance of such a procession, and of the anxiety for the events which a few hours or a few minutes might produce. What plans the ministry was forming, were as unknown tothe people within the city, as what the citizens were doing was un- nere Was, adi 1 arRIGHTS OF MAN, 9538 known to them; and what movements Broglio might make for she support or relief of the place, were to the citizens equally unknown. All was mystery and hazard. That the Bastile was attacked with an enthusiasm of heroism, such only as the highest animation of libe rty could inspire, and carried in the space of a Feu v hours, is an event wee the world is fully pc ossessed of, IT am not undertaking a detail of the attack, but bringing into view the conspiracy against th 1e nation which pEnvetey it, anc ° which fell with the Bastile. The e prison to which the new ministry were dooming the national asse SAnie, in addition to its being fie high altar and castle of despotism became the proper object to begin with. This enterprise broke up the new PALRISUEY, who began now to fly from the ruin they had prepared for others. The troops of Broglio dispersed, and himself fled also. Mr. Burke has spoken a great deal about plots, and he has never once spoken of this plot against the national assembly > and the liberties of the nation; and that he might not, he has passed over all the circumstances that might throw it in his way. The exiles who have fled from France, whose cause he so much interests himself in, and from whom he has had his lesson, fled in consequence of the miscarriage of this plot. No plot was formed against them: it was they who were pone against others; and those who fell, met, not unjustly, the punish- ment they were preparing to execute. But will Mr. Burke say that if this plot, contrived with the subtlety of an ambuscade had succeeded, the successful party would have restrained their wrath so soon? Let the history of all old governments answer the question. Whom has the national assembly brought to the scaffold? None. They were themselves the devotad victims of this plot, and they have not retaliated ; why then are they charged with revenge they have not acted? In the tremendous breaking forth of a whole people, in which all degrees, tempers and characters are egnioundel, and delivering themselves by a miracle of exertion, from the destruction meditated against them, is it to be expected that nothing will happen? When men are sore with the sense of oppressions, and menaced with the prospect of new ones, is the calmness of philosophy, or the palsy of insensibility to be looked for? Mr. Burke exclaims acainst outrage, yet the greatest is that which he has committed. His book is a volume of outrage, and not apologized for by the > Pee ef eke. oe ee oe . ee eo - pan et eee ee EMSs iissssiec tt rons s. oS EE a ete | PRPoet ratei error er “ ROT Ng ccs n Seetetaiany - Stes 3Ge8ceee tt BES impulse of a moment, but cherished through a spaee of ten months: yet Mr. Burke had no provocation, no life, no interest at stake. More citizens fell in this struggle than of their opponents; but Y Y sla 2 anNnC Sees +1x populace, and instantly four or five persons were seized by the ] nut to death; the governor of the Bastile, and the mayor of Paris. who was detected in the act of betraying them; and afterwards Foulon, one of the new ministry, and Berthier, his 5 : } Ae ye ee Ty aid core Rife oa Tie Conger son-in-law, who had acceptea the onice of intendant orf If aris. Their heads were stuck upon pikes, and carried about the city; and it is upon this mc punishment that Mr. Burke builds a great part of his tragic scenes. Let us therefore examine how man came by the idea of punishing in this manner. They learn it from the governments they live under; and re- ts they have been accustomed to behold. taliate the punishmen The heads stuck upon pikes which remained for years on Temple- bar differed nothing in the horror of the scene from those car- ried about on pikes at Paris: yet this was done by the English government. It may, perhaps, be said, that it signifies nothing to a man what is done to him after he is dead; but it signifies much to the living; it either tortures their feelings or hardens their hearts: and in either case, it instructs them how to punish when power falls into their hands. Lay then the axe to the root, and teach governments hu- manity. It is their sanguinary punishments which corrupt mankind. In England the punishment in certain cases is, by hanging, drawing, and quartering ; the heart of the sufferer is cut out and held up to the view of the populace. In France, under the former government, the punishments were not less barbarous. Who does not remember the execution of Damien, torn to pieces by horses? The effect of these cruel spectacles exhibited to the populace, is to destroy tenderness or excite re- venge; and by the base and false idea of governing men by terror instead of reason, they become precedents. It is over the lowest class of mankind that government by terror is 1n- tended to operate, and it is on them that it operates to the worst effect. They have sense enough to feel that they are the objects aimed at; and they inflict in their turn the examples of terror they have been instructed to practice. There are in all European countries a large class of people of that description which in England are called the “mob” Of this class were those who committed the burnings and devasta- 0ge ae cai MAN, 955 tions in Londot nin 1780, and of this class were those w ho car aan ai. ried the heads upon pikes in Paris. f ‘oulon and Ber thier were hnupint ) Paya A ao [oe Pik a 5 so the country, and sent to Paris to undergo tneir ex- ‘ 7 aT" ‘ oral L * * 7 e dvimination at the hotel de ville; for the national assembly 1m- mediately on the new ministry coming into office passed a A $ J J 2vUU, YADO Tt ch ee, Which 5! ,Q i = VA AXT PF y eat aAn. Le es cs pens : q ies 1 ney communicated to tne KINO ang eee: that Vw (tne national Qc sembly \ wr 1ld i'l 1] 4 , ep nee fs \ bhAULOLLé Ass LY) WOUL Noi th € ministry y, Or which by OUuULOn was one *Spons } eas os re AU VIS- ible for the measur S they were ins and Pe but the a incensed at the appearance of Houlon and Ber a ay hee . thier, tore them from theiz condt ictors before they were carried to Fhe hotel de ville, and executed them on the spot. WI hy then does Mr. Burke charge outrages of this co kind upon a w hole people? As well ey he charge the LOE riot IS and outrages of 17 30 on the whole people of Lc don. or th in [re inal on all ie country. ae But every thing we see or hear off ensive to our feelings, and derogatory to Re human charac ter, should lead to other re flec- tions than those of reproach. Even the beings who commit them have some claim to our consideration. low then is it that such vast classes of mankind as are distinguished |} by the aps lation of the vulgar, or the ignorant mob, are so numerous in all old countries? The instant we ask our Eel ves this question, reflection nde an answer. ‘They arise, as an unavoidable eon- sequence, out of the ill construction of al] the old governments in Europe, England included with therest. TItis by distortedly exalting some men, that others are distortedly debased, till the whole is out of nature. A vast mass uf mankind are degr adedly thrown into the back ground of the human picture, to bring forward, with greater glare, the puppet- t-show of state and aris- tocracy i the commencement of a rey olution, those men are rather the followers of the camp than of the standard of liberty, and have yet to be instructed how to rev verence it. [ give to Mr. Burke all his theatrica .l exaggerations for facts, 8 I then ask | him, if they do not establish the certainty of hat I here lay down? Admitting them to be true, they show he necesssty of the French revolution, as much as any one thing he vould have asserted These out ‘ages are not the effect of the principles of the revolution, but of the degraded mind that existed before the ree and which the Fenolmeone is calculated to reform. Place them then to their proper cause and take the reproach of them to your own side. It is to the honer of the national assembly, and the city of Fah 3 sbeheaks S eee eee ks eS Pe eee es eee ee heey | ae ee el ee ee eet ed ERESS SPAS ort eee eis ETee Pe tee ah im Thy Se eeg Be 3S Dee ts FRI LSAGS Fe ayESTAS eae eiaie Ss, ote : + 956 RIGHTS OF MAN. + during such a tremendous scene of arms and con- | f all authority, that they have been ple and e xhortation, to restrain so op Never was more pains ta taken to instruct and enlighten am see that their interest consisted in Paris, th: fusion, be yond t he control of able by the influence of exam v } nankind, and to make them their virtue, and not in their revenge, than what have been dis- played in the re volution in France.- _I now proceed to make some remarks on Mr. Burke’s account of the expedition to Versailles, on tne Sth and 6th ot October. { can onsider Mr. Ee book in scarcely any other light nd he must, I think, have con- than a diene tic performance; & ieci it in the same light iGiatele by the poetical liber he has taken of omitting some facts, distorting others, and making the machinery bend to proc luce a stage effect. Of this 1s 1 os { AQ aC a kind i 1S his account of the expedi tlon » Vers ailles He begin this account by omitting the only nae s which, as causes, are known to be true; everything beyond these is conjecture even in Paris: and he then works up a tale accommodated to his own passions and prejudices. It is to be observed throughout Mr. Burke’s book, that he never speaks of plots against the revolution; and it is trom 1 the mischiefs have arisen. It suits his pur- t their causes. It is one of the arts of the drama to do so. If the crimes of men were exhibited with their suffe ring, the stage effect w ould sometimes be lost, and the audience would be inclined to approve where it was intended they should « ‘ommiserate. After all the investigations that have been made into this intricate affair (the ex pedition to Versailles,) it still remains enveloped in all that kind of mystery W hich ever accompanies events produced more from a coneurrence of awkward circum- stances, than from fixed design. While the characters of men are forming, as is always the case in revolutions, there is a reciprocal suspicion, and a disposition to misinterpret ¢ each other; and even parties directly o pposite in princ iple, will sometimes concur in pushing forw ah the same movement with very different views, and with the hopes of its producing very different consequences. A great leal of this may be discovered in this embarrz ceil affair, and yet the issue of the whole was £ t those plots that a] pose a exhibit consequenccs withou what nobody had in view. The only things certainly known are, that considerable un- easiness was at this time alte in Paris, by the delay of theRIGHTS OF MAN. king in not sanctioning and fo national assembly, particularly th rights of man,.and the decrees of the fourth of August, which contained the foundation principles on which the constitution was to be erected. The kindest, and perhaps the fairest, conjec ture upon this matter is, that some of the muusters intended to make observations upon certain parts of them, before they were finally sanctioned and sent to the provinces; but be this as it may the enemies of the revolution derived hopes from the de- lay, and the friends of the revolution, uneasiness. During this state of suspense, the composed, as such regiments generally are, of persons much con- nected with the court e an entertainment at Versailles (Oct. 1,) to some foreign régiments then arrived ; and when the entertainment was at its height, on a signal given, the gardes du corps tore the national cockade from their hats, trampled it under foot, and replaced it with a counter cockade prepared for the purpose. An indignanity of this kind amounted to de- hance. It was like dec: ring war; and if men will give chal- lenges, they must expect consequences. Butall this Mr. Burke has carefully kept out of sight. He begins his accoun% by say- ing, ‘‘ History will record, that on the morning of the 6th of October, 1789, the king and queen of France, after a day of confusion, alarm, dismay and Slaughter, lay down under the pledged security of public faith, to indulge nature in a few hours of respite, and troubled melancholy repose.” This is neither the sober style of history, nor the intention of it, It leaves everything to be guessed at, and mistaken. One would at least think there had been a battle; and a battle there prob- ably would have been, had it not been for the moderating prudence of those whom Mr Burke involves in his censures, By his keeping the gardes du corps out of sight Mr. Burke has afforded himself the dramatic license of putting the king and queen in their places, as if the object of the expedition was against them.—But, to return to my account— This conduct of the gardes du corps, a might well be ex- pected, alarmed and enraged the Parisians: the colors of the cause and the cause itself, were become too united to mistake the intention of the insult, and the Parisians were determined to call the gardes du corps to an account. There was certainly nothing of the cowardice of assassination in marching in the face of day to demand satisfaction, if such a phrase may be 17 T ak grdes du corps, which was rwarding the decrees of the J 7 ° a that of the declaration of the ALOT NR EA eS OF 162 Fe eet ee c ee re ee Pes seeees ee ee ed eee ee pee Te ey ea es tere mies eon eh kas TBPELRLGee ha eeet teed TT RSS PAT AE GLS a P gia ia aot oo i) 58 RIGHTS OF MAN. used, of a body of armed men who had voluntarily given de- Gance. But the circumstance which serves to throw this affair into embarrassment is, that the enemies of the revolution appear to have encouraged it, as well as its friends. The one hoped to prevent a civil war, by checking it in time, and the other to make one. e hopes of those opposed to the revolution, rested in making the king of their party, a and getting him from Ver- sailles to ee. where they expected to co ollect a force and set up a stan dard. We have therefore two different objects preseut- ing themselves at the same time, and to be accomplished by the same means: the one, to chastise the gardes du corps which was the object of the Parisians; the other, to render the confusion of such a scene an inducement to the king to set off for Metz. On the 5th of October, a very numerous body of women, and men in the disguise of women, collected round the hotel de ville, or town hall, at Paris, and set off for Versailles. Their professed object was the gardes du corps; but prudent men readily recollected that mischief is easier begun than ended; a and this impressed itself with the more force, from the suspicions already stated, and the irregularity of such a caval- cade. As soon EhoHerine as a sufficient force could be collected, M. de la Fayette, by orders from the civil authority of Paris, et off after them at the head of twenty thousand of the Paris nilitia. The revolution could derive no benefit from confusion, and its opposers might. By an amiable and spirited manner address, he had hitherto been fortunate in calming dis- quietudes, and in this he was extraordinarily successful ; to frustrate, therefore, the hopes of those who might seek to 1m- prove this scene into a sort of justifiable necessity for the king’s quitting Versailles and withdrawing to Metz, and to prevent, at the same time, the cons sequences that might ensue between the gardes du corps and this phalanx of men and women, he forwarded expresses to the king, that he was on as ma arch to Versailles, by the orders of the civil authority of Paris, for the purpose of peace and prote ction, expressing at the same time the ne cessity of restraining the gardes du corps from firing on the people. * He arrived at Versailles between ten and eleven o’clock at night. The gardes du corps were drawn up, and the people had arrived: some time before, but everything had remained «JT am warran ted i in asserting this, as I had it from M. de la Fayette, with whom I have lived in habits oi friendship for fourceen years.saat RIGHTS OF MAN, 859 suspended. Wisdom and policy now consisted in changing a ne of danger into a happy event. M. de la Fayette became the mediator between the enraged parties; and the king, move the uneasiness which had arisen from the delay a stated, sent for the presi sce bee tO Yre- ay already Peer: e 1 ce = 2 i y agent of the national] assembly, and the rights of me 1 signed the declaration of wm, and such other parts of the constitution as were in readiness. [t was now about one in the to be composed, and a general congratulation took place. At the beat of drum a proclamation was e citizens of Versailles would give the hospitality of their houses to their fellow-citizens of Paris. Those who could not be accommodated in this manner, remained in the streets, or took up their quar- ters in the churches 3 and at two o’clock the kin retired. morning. Everthing appeared i ee Fe es Pere made, tnat th Pri eT rt kad g§ and queen In this state matters passed until the bre fresh disturbance arose from the censurable conduct of some of both parties; for such characters there will One of the gardes du corps app the palace, and the people wl in the streets accosted him vw guage. Instead of retiring, as in such a case prudence would have dictated, he presented his musket, fired, and killed one of the Paris militia. The peace being thus broken, the people rushed into the palace in quest of the offender. They attacked the quarters of the gardes du corps within the palace, and pursued them through the avenues of it, and to the apartments ot the king. On this tumult, not the queen only, as Mr. Bur! ke AG has represented it, but every person in the palace was awak- ened and alarmed; and M. de la Fayette had a second time to interpose between the parties, the event of which was, that the gerdes du corps put on the national cockade, and the matter ended, as by oblivion, after the loss of two or three lives. During the latter part of the time in which this confusion was acting, the king and queen were in public at the balcony, and neither of them concealed for safety’s sake, as Mr. Burke insinuates. Matters being thus appeased, and tranquility re- stored, a general acclamation broke forth of, le roi-& Paris—le rou & Paris—the king to Paris. It was the shout of peace, and immediately accepted on the part of the king. By this mea. sure, all future projects of trepanning the king to Metz, and setting up the standard of opposition to the cous ak of day, when a be in all such scenes, eared at one of the windows of 10 had remained during the night ith reviling and provocative lan- atk er ak ml ee ee SRS SES eee bBo 6 abe er titution wereerr eaaeer ais) aa a i hate te +e B ro . ro 260 BRIGHTS OF MAN. aud prevented, and the suspicions ex tinguished. The king and his family reached Paris in the evening, and were congratulated on their arrival by M. Bailley, the mayor of Paris, in the name of oughout his book confounds the citizens. Mr. Burke, who thi things, persons, and principles, has, in his remarks on M. > - -47 5 a oe 1 1 er 3 Fas ‘7. i : a Baillev’s address, confounded time also. He censures M. . v . 13° : 4 7. ; oa 99 fe. r es Railley for calling it, “wn bon jour, a cood day. Mr. Burke J So 7 « oO a : 7 e oo 7 Tc ie jf L - . as Ls ices 7 s . should have informed himself that this scene took up the space of two days, the day on which it began with every appearance of danger and mischief, and the day on which it terminated without the mischiefs that threatened; and that it is to this peaceful termination that M. Bailley alludes, and to the arrival of the king at Paris. Not less than three hundred thousand persons arranged themselves in the procession from Versailles to Paris, and not an act of molestation was com- mitted during the whole march. Mr. Burke, on the authority of M. Lally Tolendal, a deserter from the national assembly, says that on entering Paris, the people shouted, “tous les éveques a la lanterne”—all bishops to be hanged at the lantern or lamp-posts. It was surprising that nobody should hear this but Lally Tollendal, and that no- body should believe it but Mr. surke. It has not the least connexion with any part of the transaction, and is totally foreign to every circumstance of it. The bishops have never been introduced before into any scene of Mr. 3urke’s drama; why then are they, all at once, and together, towt a@ coup et tous ensemble, introduced now? Mr. Burke brings forward his bishops and his lantern, like figures in a magic lantern, and raises his scenes by contrast instead of connexion. But it serves to show with the rest of his book, what little credit ought to be given, where even probability is. set at defiance, for the purpose of defaming; and with this reflection, instead of soliloquy in praise of chivalry, as Mr. Burke has done, I close the account of the expedition to Versailles.* I have now to follow Mr. Burke through a pathless wilder- ness of rhapsodies, and a sort of descant upon governments, in which he asserts whatever he pleases, on the presumption of its being believed, without offering either evidence or reasons for so doing. * Anaccount of the expedition to Versailles may be seen in No. 13 of the ‘Revolution de Paris,” containing the events from the 3rd to the 10th of October, 1759.RIGHTS OF MAN, 261 Before anything can be reasoned upon to a conclusi 10n, certain facts, principles, or data, to reason from, must be establis! oan admitte -d, or denied. Mr. Burke, with his usual outrage, abuses the declaration of the rights of man, published by the national assembly of France, as the basis on which the constitution of France is built. This he calls “paltry and blurred sleets of paper about the rights of man.” ines Mr. Burke mean to deny that man has oy rights? Ifhed loes, then he must mean that there are no such things as rights any where, and that he has none himself: for who js there in the world but man? But if Mr. Burke means to admit + that man has rights, the ceed ner will be, what are those rights, and how came man by them riginally. The error of those who reason antiquity, res spect ng the rights of man, is, that they do not go far enough into antiquity. They do not go the whole way. They stop in some of ot the intermer diate stages of an hundred or a thousand years, and produce what was then done as a rule for the present da y- This is no authority at all. If we travel still further into antiquity, we shall find a direc stly contrary one 100 and pri iC tice prevailing ing; and, if antiquity is to be authority, a thousand such authorities in lay be produced, successively bai tradicting each other: but we proceed on, we shall at last come out right: we shall come to the time when man came from the hand of his maker. W hat washe then? Man. Man was his high and only title, and a higher cannot be given him. But of titles I shall] s F - nNaregttar KR Nerearter. precedents drawn from } 5 c if ad 5 apy ame tet eke 2d at the origin of man nan, and at the origin manner in which the world has been governed from that day to this, it is no further any concern of i ie yOW 1) We Nave NOw arriyv 1 Nn of J is rights. ours than to make a proper use of the errors or the Lm prove- NO a hh L, : are 5 F i+ spacanta ET ] SA ¥ - 5 lived a hundred or a thousand years ago. ‘The fact is, that ; blis ing no- portions of antiquity, by pl oving every thing, esta p i. ; a aes 17 wav ti] thine [his authority a2lainsy authority all the w 5 ial ll we ars gy : < “ come to the divine origin of the rights of man, at ne e creation. Pay EEL eee ee sao v3 ee] ae ? eee ee: i FeFFaLIQeseEs Sie oe a ed rg pee tc pie rt See eeS dphece z rer (TET ETS Pt Ty PPh S TS Sette She SeeEe Caan & ee sk Ae eo Perreyirrrrsteite erty iret ot eh eS le Se ekParr rserariien PT Pot ater eet ie sae dec gigiaiti eae « NOT aa: eae cseeceatatatst¢ * Mee ONES rms ei aca gr SELES ES rs . Tatts ti} 208 RIGHTS OF MAN. ground he could take, if the advantages were on his side; but the weakest if they were not; and his declining to take it, is either a sign that he could ag possces it, or could not maintain it. Mr. Burke has said in his speech last winter in parliament, that when the national assembly of France first met in three orders, (tiers etats, the clergy, and the noblesse) that France had then a good constitution. This shows, among numerous other instances, that Mr. Burke does not understand what constitution is. The persons so met, were not a constitution, eae a convention to make a constitution. ‘he present national Assembly of France is, strictly speak- ae the personal social compact. ‘The members of it are the delegates of the nation in its original character; future assem- blies will be the delegates of the nation in its organie ed char- acter. The authority of the present assembly is different to what the authority of future assemblies will be. The authority of the present one is to form a constitution: the authority of future assemblies will be to legislate according to the principles and forms prescribed in that constitution; and if experience should hereafter show that alterations, amendments, or addi- tions are necessary, the constitution will point out the mode by which such thing shall be done, and not leave it to the discre- tionary power of the future government. A government on the pc on which constitutional governments, arising out of society are established, cannot have the right of altering ‘iach iF t had, it would be arbi- trary. It might peaea itself what t ee and wherever * ¥ A such a right is set up, it shows that there is no constitution. FIN i LP Selle ed ls aaa bo ais : Roi Sabet *4 ie he act by which the Eneolish parhament « mpowered 1tselr to e A sit Ior seven years, Shows there 1s no ¢ constitution 1n Eneland. It might, by the same self authority, have sat any greater number of years or for life. The bill which the present Mr. Pitt brought into parliament some years ago, to reform parlia ment, was on the same erroneous principle. f rm) aoh4 GC MataAn TO { { 4 67 .CRI ato ine r1ig@nt or rerorm IS 1n the nation 1n 1ts original C haracter, non + ; ve ; viet } Lah A . . and the constitutional method w ould pe DY a ceneral convention the purpose. There is moreover a paradox in the tdea of vitiated bodies reforming themselves. From these preliminaries I proceed to draw some comparisons. I have a lready spoken of the declaration of rights; and as i mean to be as concise as possible, L shal! proceed to other parts of the French constitution lant Le elected forRIGHTS OF MAN, 269 he constitution of France says, that ever y man who pays a sie = avaey ie per nanan (2s. and 6d. English) is an elector. What iia will Mr. Burke place against this? Can ai 1y thins be more limited, and at the same time more capriciou ;, ee what the qualifications of the electors are in fnoland 2 Limited 7 . x ye ‘because not one man in a hundred (I speak much within : : Cw enaracter that can be sg suppos ed to exist, and who has not so much as the visible means of an honest livelihood, is an elector ‘OM re ‘oq } admit ] {- r sient COMPpass }) 1S admitted to vote: cOpMGLoUS -aDerauag the low esi in some places; while, in other places, the man who pays verv large taxes, and with a fair known character, and the farmer who rents to the amount of three or four hundred pounds a year, and with a property on that farm to three or four times that one is not admitted to be an elector. Everything is out of nature, as Mr. Burke says on another occasion, in this strange chaos, and all sorts of follies are blended with all sorts of crimes. William the Conqueror, and his descendants, parcelled out the country in this manner, and bribed one part of it by what they called charters, to hold the other parts of it the better subjected to their will. This is the reason why so many charters abound in Cornwall. The people were averse to the government estab lished at the conquest, and the towns were garrisoned and bribed to enslave the country. All the old charters are the badges ot this conquest. and it is from this source that the capriciousnes; of election arises. The French constitution says, that the number of representa tives tor any place shall be in a ratio to the number of taxable inhabitants or electors. What article will Mr. Burke place against this? The county of ' rere shire, which contains near 2 million of souls, sends two county members; and so does the county of Rutland, which ene not a hundredth part of that oumber. The town of old Sarum, which contains. not thre houses, sends two members; and the town of Manchester, which contains upwards of sixty thousand souls, is not admitted to send any. Ts there any principle in these things? Is there anything by which you can trace the marks of freedom or discover those of wisdom? No wonder then Mr. Burke has declined the com- parison, and endeavored to lead his readers from the point, by a wild unsystematical display of paradoxical rh 1apsoclies. The French constitution says that the national assembly shall be elected every two years. What article will Mr. Burke place agains? ffr1s? ‘Vhy, that the nation has no right ai all in the cee ere ere re + etek erst et or SPPecsrgeuséssess24 press te tt iets le sraned pees270 RIGHTS OF MAN. case; that the government is perfectly arbitrary with respect to this point; and he can quote for his authority the precedent oi a former parliament. The French constitution says there shall be no game laws ; that the farmer on whuse lands wild game shall be found (for it is by the produce of those lands they are fed) shall have a right to what he can take. That there shall be no monopolies of any kind, that all trades shall be free, and every man free to follow any occupation by which he can procure an honest livelihood, and in any place, town, or city, throughout the nation. What will Mr. Burke say to this? In England, game is made the pro- perty of those at whose expense it is not fed; and with respect to monoplies, the country is cut up into monopolies. Every chartered town is an aristocratic monopoly in itself, and the qualification of electors proceeds out of those chartered monopo- lies. Isthis freedom? Is this what Mr. Burke means by acon- stitution. ! In these chartered monopolies a man coming from another part of the country, is hunted from them asif he were a foreign enemy. An Englishman is not free in his own coNntry: every one of those places presents a barrier in his way, and tells him he is not a freeman—that he has no rights. Within these mon- opolies are other monopolies. In a city, such for instance as Bath, which contains between twenty and thirty thousand in habitants, the right of electing representatives to parliament is I o about thirty-one persons. And within these monopolies are still others. A man, even of the same town, whose parents were not in circumstances to give him an occupa~ tion, is debarred, in many cases, from the natural right of acquir- ing one, be his genius or industry what 1t may. Are these things examples to hold out to a country regen erating itself from slavery, like France? Certainly they are not; and certain am I, that when the people of England come to reflect. upon them, they will, like France, annihilate thos badges of ancient oppression, those traces of a conquered nation. Had Mr. Burke possessed talents similar to the author “On the Wealth of Nations,” he would have comprehended all the parts which enter into, and, by assemblage, form a constitution. H would have reasoned from minutiz to magnitude. It is no from his prejudices only, but from his disorderly cast of hi genius, that he is unfitted for the subject he writes upon. Even his genius is without a constitution. It is a genius at random, © monopolized intRIGHTS OF MAN. 271 and not a genius constituted. But he must say somethine—He has therefore mounted in the air like a balloon, to draw the eyes of the multitude from the ground they stand upon. : Much is to be learned from the French constitution. Con- quest and tyranny tr ransplanted themselves with William the conqueror, from Normandy into England, and the country is yet disfigured with the marks. se then the eA of all Hrance contribute to regenerate the freedom which a province of it destroyed? Che French constitution says, that to preserve the nationa representation from being corrupt, no member of the ns ee assembly shall be an officer of government, a placeman or a pens sioner. What will Mr. Burke place against this? I will whisper his answer: loaves and fishes. Ah! this government of loaves and fishes has more mischief in it than people have yet reflected on. The national assembly has made the di iscovery, and holds out an example to the world. ‘tad covernments agreed to sh urrel on purpose to fleece their countries by taxes, they could not have succeeded better than they have done. Everything in the English government appears to me the reverse of mk at it ought to be, and of what it is said to be. The parliament, imperfec tly and capriciously elected as it is, is never- theless supposed to hold the national purse in trust for the nation; but in the manner in which an English parliament is constructed, it is hke a man being both mortgager and mortgagee; and in the case of mis: application of trust, it is the criminal sitting in Judgment on himself. If those persons who vote the supplies are the same persons who receive the supplies when voted, and are to account for the expenditure of those supplies to those who voted them, it is themselves accountable to themselves, and the “Comedy of Errors” concludes with the pantomine of ‘Hush.” Neither the ministerial party, nor the opposition wil] touch upon this case. The national purse is the common hack which each mounts upon. It is like what the country people call ‘Ride and tie—You ride a little way and then I.” Th Ley order these things better in France. The French constitution says that the right of war and peace is in the nation. Where else should it reside, but in shout who are to pay the expense? oS In England the right is said to reside in a metaphor, shown at the Tower for sixpence or a shilling a-piece; so are the lions; and it would be a step nearer to reason to say it resided in them, Pe ee ke ees Pole Sretusds tease > staqessege eeeea tte el be 444$¢s 276 RIGHTS OF MAN. them. It is common opinion only that makes them anything or nothing, or worse than nothing. There is no occasion to take titles away, for they take themselves away when society concurs to ridicule them. This species of imaginary consequence has visibly declined in every part of Europe, and it hastens to ‘ts exit as the world of reason continues to rise. There was a time when the lowest class of what are called nobility was more thought of than the highest is now, and when a man in ~ armor riding through Christendom in search of adventures was more stared at than a modern duke. The world has seen this folly fall, and it has fallen by being laughed at, and the farce of titles will follow its fate. The patriots of France have dis- covered in good time, that rank and dignity in society must take a new ground. Lee old one has fallen through. It must now take the substantial ground of character, instead of the chimerical ground of titles: and they have brought their titles to the altar, and made of them a burnt-offering to reason. If no mischief has annexed itself to the folly of titles, they would not have been worth a serious and formal destruction, such as the national assembly have decreed them: and os makes it necessary to inquire further into the nature and char- acter of aristocracy. That, then, w hich is called aristocracy in some countries, and nobility in others, arose out of the government founded upon the conquest. It was originally a military order, for the purpose of supporting military government (for such were all govern- ments founded in conquests); and to keep up a suecession of this order for the purpose for which it was established, all the younger braches of those families were disinherited, and the law of primogenitureship set up. The nature and character of aristocracy shows itself to us in this law. It is a law against every law of nature, and nature herself calls for its destruction. Establish family justice and aristocracy falls. By the aristocratical law of primogeniture- ship, in a family of six children, five are exposed.— Aristocracy has never but ove child. The rest are begotten to be devoured. They are thrown to the cannibal for prey, and the natural parent prepares the unnatural repast As everything which is out of nature in man, affects, more or less, the interest of society, so does this. All the children which the aristocracy disowns (which are all, except the eldest) are, in general, cast like orphans ona parish, to be provided for rRIGHTS OF MAN. 21 y the public, but at a greater charge. Ae es In governments and courts are the public to maintain them. Ww ith what kind of parentg] mother contemplate their are children, and by m Unnecessary offices and € created at the expense of reflections can the father or younger offspring. By nature they arriage they are heirs: but by aristocracy they are bastards and orph 1ans. They are the flesh and blood of their parents in one line, and nothing akin to them in other. To restore, therefore, children to their parents—re SOC] lety—and to ext the parents to their chil dren, and lations to each other , and man erminate the monster aristocrac vy; branch —the French constitution has mogenitureship. Here then hes the if he pleases, may write its € spitaph. Hitherto we have c ousidered aj ristocrac’ y chi iefly in one point of view. We havenow to consider it in anothe r. But whether we view it bef tore or on or siete or anyway else, do- mestically or pu. blic] sly, is stil a Mo} HOSte I Frat 1d a “ist IC. racy Ty GC: than what it has in some other countries. a body of hereditary lecislators, to root and destroyed the law of pri- € monster, and Mr. Burke, r. had one feature legs in its countenance It did not compose It was not “a corporation of arestocracy,” for such I have heard M. de la Fa or describe an English house of peers. Let us then examine the grounds upon a ch the French constitution has resolved against having such a house in France. Because, in the first place, as is already mentioned, aristo- cracy 1s kept up by family tyr anny a nd injus stice. 2nd, Beams there is an unnat val unfitness in an aristo- ey to be legislators for a nation. Their ideas of distributive IUStUCE ALE ¢ corrupted at the very source. ‘They begin life tramp- on ng on all their younger brothers and sister , and relations of ght and educated so todo. With what ideas of justice or honor can that man enter a house of legisla- tion, who absorbs in his own person the inheritance of a whole family of children, or metes out some pitiful portion with the insolence of a gift ? ey Ony kind, and are tau drd, Because the idea of heredi itary Pe iS as inconsis- tent as that of hereditary judges, or aes juries; and as absurd as an hereditary mathematician, or an thieraaieagy wise man; and as ridiculous as an hereditary poe t-laureat, 4th, Because a body of men, holding themselves accountable to nobody , ought not to be trusted by anybody. Pe oy ee ee ee re ee ee Sore 5 ere] eta Peres terror ees te: aeasege Soe kd eee Gedseeersuesdehecss ste serv ar, ee as re ESadage seta ae kt Se May a278 RIGHTS OF MAN. 5th, Because it is continuing the uncivilized principle of governments founded in conquest, and the base idea of man 7 having property in man, and governing him by personal right. 6th, Because aristocracy has a tendency to degenerate the human species. By the universal economy of nature it 1s ; the instance of the Jews it is proved, that the 7 known, and by any stall num- human species has a tendency to degenerate, in ber of persons, when separated from the general stock of society, and intermarrying constantly with each other. It de- feats even its pretended end, and becomes in time the opposite of whatis noble in man. Mr. Burke talks of nobility, let him show what itis. The greatest characters the world has known, have risen on the democratic floor. Aristocracy has not been able to keep a proportionate pace with democracy. ‘The arti cial noble shrinks into a dwarf before the noble of nature; and -n a few instances (for there are some in all countries) in whon nature, as by a miracle, has survived in aristocracy, those men despise it. But it is time to proceed to a new subject. The French constitution has reformed the condition of the clergy. It has raised the income of the lower and middle classes, and taken from the higher. None are now less than twelve hundred livres (fifty pounds sterling), nor any higher than two or three thousand pounds. What will Mr. Burke place against this? Hear what he says. He says, that “the people of England can see, without pain or grudging, an archbishop precede a duke; they can see a bishop of Durham, or a bishop of Winchester in possession of 10,0007. a year; and cannot see why it 1s in worse hands than estates to the like amount in the hands of this earl or that squire.” And Mr. Burke offers this as an example to France As to the first part, whether the archbishop precedes the duke, or the duke the bishop, it is, I believe, to the people in general, somewhat like Sternhold and H opkins, or Hopkins and Sternhold; you may put which you please first: and as I con- fess that I do not understand the merits of this case, I will not contend it with Mr. Burke. But with respect to the latter, I have something to say. Mr. Burke has not put the case right. The comparison 1s out of order by being put between the bishop and the earl, or the squire. It ought to be put between the bishop and the curate, and then it will stand thus: the people of England can see with out grudging or pain, a bishop of Durham or a bishop of Wan-RIGHTS OF MAN. 209 chester, in possession of ten thousand pounds a year. and a cu acy Ft y } ne na na 7: . 7 rate on thr ly 07 fo 7 by 7 year, or less. N O, SIr, taney cer Calnly do not see these ‘sues Wwitnout creat pain and 2TuUacLling [tis a case that applies itself to every man’s sense of justic 7 ; 7 7 me ers ae alee iy and is one ai nong many that calls aloud for a constitu tion In Fraz lice, the cry OL ** the church Z the church ye was re Was rt pee as often as in Mr. Burke’s book, and as loudly as w JAMAL Y a? he dissenters’ bill was before Pp arliament: t; but the generality of the French clergy were not to be deceived by this cry any longer. They ] knew that whatever th e pretence might be, | was themselves who were one ot the principal] objects of it. It any recu v ne Es was the cry of the high beneficed clergy , to prevent 4 ation of incon ne taking place be stwaen Has of ten pene 1 thousand pounds a year and the parish priest. They, i lerefore, joined their case to those of ey other oppress ed clas by this “union obtained 3 redress, The French constitution has abolished tithes A ave tal discontent between the tithe-} holder SS OF men, and that source of and the parish- ioner. When land is held on tithe, it is in the condition of an estate helc | between two parties; one receiving one-tenth, and the other nine-tenths of the produce; and, conseque1 itly, on principles of equity, if the estate can be impr oneal and made to produce by that improvement double or treble what it did be- fore, or in any other ratio, the expense of such improvement ought to be borne in like DispenEor between the par ties w ho are to share the produce. But this is not the case in tithes ; the farmer bears the whole expense, and the tithe- holder take a tenth of the improvement, in ad: dition to the original senth, ag by this means gets the value of two-tenths instead of one. This is another case that calls for a constitution. The French constitution hath abolished or renounced tolera- tion, and wntoleration also, and hath established universal right of conscience. Toleration is not the opposite of intoleration, but is the coun- terfert of it. Both are despotisms. The one assumes to itself the right of withholding liberty of conscience, and the other of granting it. The one is the pope, armed with fire and fagot, and the other is the pope selling or granting indulgences. The former is church and state, and Mhe lati ter 1s chureh and traffic. Bunt toleration may be viewed in a much str onger light. Man worships not himself but his Maker: and the liberty of conscience which he claims, is not for the service of hims self, but + Seer ery ee tf Se ile ak 3 EStssses tae 5 +? i ee ERE S PoE ES pee ee eh eee treet ere eee Fs pk cise ERENT Coe a scgeeage settee se gt eee ESie Pittre rice. PA 7. +. St eee cee Tete te be be * - Teeter Tt ea 7 4 : c } . \ ¥* Xv y c i YY ‘ — XY y In this case, therefore, we must necessarily have ar T : Ns : a Listen lirwce 6c ail es ee ee Ps cent 2 oe une § ssociated 1de2 O© two beings: the MOTtat WHO renders the 7 1 ens fo whn ia woarahinnad MT A ase WOrsnhip, and the 277277207 fat o0ewrng Wno 1S wo! shipper ; lolera 7 1 : ln wate Bree . = Saw tion, theretore, places 1tSelf not between man and man, NOrY be 2 aT eas } } ~ hatwre » wiInety f tween churen nha CAUrCch, Nor vpeoween Oo! denomination Or ae Mos , } 1 , ay ~ ( wri n . r religion and another, but between God and man: between the d AUTNOLITY oy which it tolerates man to being who worships and the bdezng who is worshipped 5 and by > i c i . the ne act of assumed tne same act i: assumed nay his worship, it presumptuously and blasphemously sets up i itself to tolerate the \ Imichty tO recelve it. Were a bill brought into parliament, entitled, ** An acé to tolerate or grant liberty to the imi 1tby tO receive the worship of a Jew or a Turk,” or “to prohibit the Almighty from receis ing it,” all men would startle, and call it blasphemy. There vould be an uproar. ‘The presumption of toleration in reli cious matters would then present itself unmasked ; but the pre sumption is not the less because the name of “man” only ap a Oe a is Aa cy eI Dae ies ide 1 Rese pears to those laws, for the associated iaea or tne worslhrupper and the worshipped cannot be separated. Who, then, art thou, : ; 5 ] t , hat - , . le =) ] Valn dust and asnes : OY Wnatever name ti0u art ealled. W hether : ies ss Sane) hee +9 4 yPlis - +}y3 a king, a bishop, a church or a state, a parliament or anything else, that obtrudest thine insienificance between the soul of 7 7 . T , ) x 7 : ‘ | man and oO Wi AICTE Vi l thins own cor n if he believ 1 ~~ . 4 ‘ 4-1 1 es { th not as thou bdelievest, 1t 1s a proot that thou believest not 1 Pe Den, Sy ‘ eels ‘ le us ne DeLIEVELD, ana tnere 18 no eartoly ywer Can aetermine 3 l pevween you. 7 ae oe oii ean ie } 7 : ate ape ct Lo V¥1uN respect tO wnat are Wiea CAeCNnNOMMaAavions OL relic1ion Lt : i) eke eed ea on s left t udoe of | own relic1o Shere is 1 such it ever nN 1e] ) bibs ¢ 710N, tnere 18 no sucn Wan Cog MAlIOIAT ] bt ses tp ce ee Adee | ees pe | £ tni IP aS a FellO10onNn that 1S Wrong; but it ney are to judge O©L each other's religion, there is no such thing as a religion that 1S I icht * and tnererore all the world 18 rignt, or all the worla 7a Wrons R444 with respect to r Nitestet, i+< iF withont cArarnA is Wrong. DUL WItD Pespect U re 119707) LUSElLT, V1IENOUS Fre Cara 4 yWamaa and aa Tiractingag ite Le oe a3 Se ot a ee ats ef. ae tO Names, and aS Alrecting ltselt Irom the universal family of J Sea ND dee ol leas ~hiond fe oll laraty = ; , mankind to the divine abject of all adoration, 7 7s man bring- a A ] eye % : Pe Dn a s eng to his Maker the fruits of his heart, and though these fruits may differ from each other like the fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of everyone is accepted. Cc ° i Bishop of Winchester, or the reads the dukes, will not refuse a tithe-sheaf oy 1 » of Durham, or a archbishop who | of wheat, because it is not a cock of hay: nora cock of hay because it is not a sheaf of wheat: nor a pig because it aes neither the one nor the other: but these same persons, undereee the figure of an established ehurch ; to receive the varied tit] Xt 1es of man’ s dey One of the continual choruses of Mr. and state:” he hae not some one ovlon, Burke’s book is “chure] y wate 7 a a particular church. +70] Ghd ] : z particular state, but any church and state: and to hold forth the politica mean some one ( 1 J uses the term as a genera] ficure ia L Siu , 3 Ass Pe = 7 io ° doctrine of always uniting the church with state In ever, country, and he censures the national] assembl done this in France. Tuet us bestow subject. All religions are, in their nature, mild and b with principles of morality. They could not lytes at first, k y professing any thin ig that was vicious, cruel, per secuting or immoral. Like ev erything else, they had_ their begl inning ; and the y. proc eeded | by persuasion, ex] nortation Ly and example. How then is it that they | lose their native mildness and become morose and intolerant ? [t proceeds from the connection which Mr. Burke recom— mends. By engendering the church with the State, a sort of mule animal, capable only of de ee g; and not of L¢ L breeding aoe aa Ae Aull : 7 e F up, iS produced, calle dd Ly the char EStAOD ishe d by law. Ae 1S stranger, even from its birth, to anv parent 2 » si © } enlgn, and united 1 nave made prose a mother on which it is begotten, and whom in time it kicks out and destroys. The inquisition in Spain does not proceed from the relic ion. originally professed, but from this mule animal, engendered state. The burnings in Smithfield proceded from the same heterog geneous prod Cc Oo ] is ee ey : +] between the chureh and tne d uction ; and it was the regeneration of this strange animal in England afterwards, that renewed rancor and irreligion ee the inhabitants, and that drove the people called Quakers i Dissenters to Amer- : 1 Ld ica. Persecution is not an ori igin fo oe in any religion ; att but 1s always the strongly-marked fea ure of all law-religions, or religions established by law. Take away the law-establish- ment, a every religion re-assumes its origins ai benignity. In America, a Catholic priest is a good citizen, a good character, and a good neighbor ; an ea an minister is of the same eee tion: and this proceeds independent of men, from there being no law-establishment in America. If also we view this matter in a temporal sense, we shall see the ill effects it has had on the prosperity of nations. The union of church and state has impoverished Spain. —The re- voking the edict of Nantz drove the silk m anufacture from that RIGHTS OF MAN, YR] will not permit their Maker | ye 1a | tor not having a few thoaghts on this ae aS =) JERSE ERS Sey Peay Fs teh eR ee ee ee EL STIRS TNT RT A RON 2S EER Perea rere ee erty ree eee TONS TAT DE FR a STEER PORE LTE SS ATT MERE IE peer rs sts Ghegscedsessdebeca ~< Eow . : ae Sista Tage REM RTD res poe Seats eon ba ks BF NSTIPar baa.) Perar Testy eet s | H ha bbb Lh * 43459 - Sate ttt "vtse rs te. ‘ EGG ESEe EET S Sate bd be) 282 RIGHTS OF MAN. country into England ; and church and state are now driving the cotton manuiacture from England to America and France. Let then Mr. Burke continue to preach his anti-political doc- rd state. It will do some good. The na- 1 | not follow his advice, but will benefit by his folly. It was by observing the ill effects of it in- England, that America has been warned against it ; and it is by experi- France, that the national assembly have abol- trine of church a1 tional assembly wil encing them in - 2 “? + 7 : . i omgie 4 : es pay < ished it, and, like America, has established wniversal right oF Sey ao ; nena ry i. Wil } Ee a iig * CONSCLENCE, ANA UMWETSAl rig lt OF citizenship.” I will here cease the comparison with respect to the prins ainles of the French constitution, and conclude this part of the OL} subject with a formal parts of the French and English governments. The executive power in each country is in the hands of a person styled the king; but the French constitution distin ind the sovereign: it considers the nh ; av the nat1ot few observations on the organization of the cuishes between the king station of king as official, and places sovereignty 1n o ) o eo * When in any country we see extraordinary circumstances taking place, they natura ly lead any man who has a talent for observation and investigation, to inquire into the causes. The mannfxaciurers of Manchester, Birmingham, and Sheffield, are the principal manulacturers in England. From whence did this arise? A little observation will explain the case The principal, and the generality of the inhabitants of those places, are not of what is c lied in Eng and, the church established by law: and thvy, or their fathers (for it is within but a few yea s) withdrew from the persecution of the chart red towns, where test-!aws more particularly operate, and established a sort of asylum for themselves in those places. It was the only asvium then offered, for the rest of Europe was worse. But the case is now changing—France¢ and America bid all comers welcome, and initiate them into all the rights of citizenship. Policy and interest, therefore, will, but perhaps too Jate, dictate in England what reason and justice could not. Those manuiacturers are withdrawing to othr places. There is now erecting in Passey, three miles from Paris, a large cotton manu’ actory, and several are already «rected in America. Soon a ter the rejecting the b.ll for repealing the test-law. one of the richest manu acturers in Engla: d said in my hearing, ** England, sir, is not a country for a Dissenter to live in,—we must go to France.” These are truths, and it ix doing sustice to both parties to tell them. It is chiefly the Dissenters that have carried Snelish manuf ctures to the heivht they are 1:.ow at, and the same men have it in their power to carry them away, and though those manufacturers would afterwards continue in those places, the foreign market will be lost. There frequently appears in the London Gazette, extracts from certain acts to prevent machines, aud as far as it can extend to persons, from going out of the country. It appears from these that the ill effects of the test-laws and church establishment begin to be much suspected; but the remedy of force can uever supply the remedy of reason. In the progress of less than a century, al) the unrepresented part of England, of all de- pomin:utions which is at least au hundred times the most numerous, May begin to fvel the necessity of a constitution, and then all those matters will come regu- larly before them.Ae: ; eye Et. a iS = 1 The representatives of the nation, which compose the national s 1 3 sa 1 . 2 = °. . . assembly, and who are the legislative power, originate in and : 4 ae 1 Ree a = ney . aoe rose oo. ° 7 . from the people by election, as an inherent right in the people. In England it is otherwise ; and this arises from the original establishment of what is called its monarchy ; for as by the con quest all the rights of the people or the nation were absorbed ; ito the hands of the conqueror, and who added the title of king to that of conqueror, those same matters which in France are now held as rights in the people, or in the nation, are held m England as grants from what is called the crown. The parliament in England, in both its branches, was erected bv patents from the descendants of the conqueror. The house of commons did not originate as a matter of right in the people, JOON. By the French constitution, the nation ig always named be- fore the king. The third article of the declaration of rights says, “The nation is essentially the source (or fountain) of all sovereignty.” Mr. Burke argues that in England a king is the fountain—that he is the fountain of all honor. idea is evidently descended from the conquest, I other remark upon it than that it is the nature of conquest to turn everything upside down; and as Mr. Burke will not be refused the privilege of speaking twice, and as there are but two parts in the figure, the fountain and the spout, he will be right the second time. The French constitution puts the legislative before the execu- tive; the law before the king; la loi, le rot. This also is in the natural order of things; because laws must have existence, before they can have execution. A king in France does not, in addressing himself to the national assembly, say, ‘‘ my assembly,” similar to the phrase used in England of “my parliament;” neither can he use it consistent with the constitution, nor could it be admitted. There may be propriety in the use of it in England, because as is before mentioned, both houses of parliament originated out of what is called the crown, by patent or boon—and not out of the inherent rights of the people, as the national assem- bly does in France, and whose name designates its origin. ; ‘The president of the national assembly does not ask the king to grant to the assembly the liberty of speech, as is the case with the English house of commons. ‘The constitutional dignity of the national assembly cannot debase itself. Speech is, in the to delegate or elect, but as a vrant or | 4 Uw But as this shail make no _ RIGHTS OF MAN. 283 PP pet eed £9 Feat bed a See es eR ae re treet Tree mn Pat eo ye oe eat eer eT ers Pe 3 eae dae ket ae PEPE TS SPIT Tee big sss ae cASe ee“pee actinges aes 284 RIGHTS OF MAN. first Sn one of the natural rights of man, always retained ; and with re eek to the national assembly, the use of it is their duty, ae len me is their authorety. bse were elected by the greatest body of men exercising the right of election the one world ever saw. ‘They sprung not from the filth of rotten boroughs, nor are they vassal represent: atives of aristo- NO they support it. Their parliamentary language, whether for cratical ones. Feeling the proper dignity of their character, or against a question, is free, bold, and n nanly, and extends to all the parts and circumstances of the case. If any matter or subject respecting the executive department, or the person who presides in it (the king), comes before them, it is debated on with the spirit of men, and the ae of gentlemen; and their answer, or their address, is ret ed in the same style. They stand not aloft with the gapiny vacu ity of vulgar ignor- ance, nor bend with the cringe of sycophantic insignificance. The graceful pride of truth knows no extremes, a nd preserves in every latitude of life the right-angled character of man. Let us now look to the other side of the question. In the addresses of the English parliaments to their kings, we see neither the intrepid spirit of eon old parliaments of France, nor the serene dignity of the presen ational assembly ; neither do we see in them anything of te bel of English manners, which borders somewhat on bluntness. Since then they are neither of foreign extraction, nor naturally of English production, in must be sought for elsewhere, and that origin 1s ek s } : ne vassalage their orig the Moves conquest. ‘They are evidently of t class of manners, and emphatically mark t the prostrate distance that exists in no other condition of men than between the conqueror and the conquered. That this vassalage idea and style a speaking was not got rid of, even at the revolution of 1688, is evident from the declaration of parliament to William and | Ma rN, in these words: ‘‘we do most humbly and fait thtully eubmit ourselves, our heirs and posterity forever.” Submission is wholly a \ assalage term, repugnant to the dignity of freedom, and an echo of the language used at the conquest. As the estimation of all things is by comparison, the revo- lution of 1688, however from circumstances it may have been exalted above its value, will find its level. It is already on the wane, eclipsed by the enlarging orb of reason, and the revolutions of America and France. In less than another > i century, it will go. as well as Mr. Burke’s labors, “to the2 family vault of all the vapulets.” Mankind will then scare ely believe that a country ihe itself free, would send to Holland for a man, and clothe him with power, on purpose to put then selves in fear of him, and give him Since a mal lion sterling a- year, for leave to submit pperiee yee and their posterity, ga bondmen an d bondwomen forever ai But there is a truth that ought to be made known; I have had the opportunity of seeing it: which is, that notwithstanding appearances, there 1s not any description of men that despise monarchy so much as courtiers. But thev well know. that if ¥ 1 it were seen by others, as it is seen by them, the juggle could not be kept up. They are in the condition of men who get their living by show, and to whom the folly of that show is so familiar that they ridicule it; but were the audience to be made as wise, in this respect, as themselves, there would be an end to the show and the profits with it. The difference be- tween a republican and a courtier with respect to monarchy, is, that the one opposes monarchy believing it to be something, and the other laughs at it knowing it to be nothing. ‘ As I used sometimes to correspond with Mr. Burke, belie, ing him then to be a man of sounder principles than his book shows him to be, J wrote to him last winter from Paris, and gave him an account how prosperously matters were going on. Among other subjects in that letter, I referred to the happy situation the national assembly were placed in; that they had taken a ground on which their moral duty and their politica al interest were united. They have not to hold out a language which they do not believe, for the fraudulent purpose of mak- ing others believe it. Their station requires no artifice to support it, and can only be maintained by enlightening man kind. It is not their interest to cherish ignorance, but. to dispel it. They are notin the case of a ministerial or an of sition party in England, who, though they are Epo sed, are still united to keep up the common mystery. The national assembly must throw open a magazine of light. It must show man the proper character of man; and the nearer it can bring him to that standard, the stronger the national assembly be- comes. [n contemplating the French constitution, we see in it rational order of things. The principles harmonize with the forms, and both with their origin. It may perhaps be said as 2. an excuse for bad forms, that they are nothing more than IPO- - RIGHTS OF MAN. 285 he SSE ATS IR ES A TRIN PAROSRSS PER CPT Pty} Se er ee Pee ee et te Sere Bs - = 4 Ek | rere et STS TE ATARI PERE Pr rere rh yer ee. Pees PEERY ORT a ATA NIE EPRICE Pers Fs rh Pe ke oe baked Pree ete er tee) % SS PSS STES est esee atten idles eS 286 RIGHTS OF MAN. forms; but this is a mistake. Forms grow out of principles, and operate to continue the principles they grow from. It is impossible to practise a bad form on anything but a bad prin- ye engrafted on a good one; and wherever ciple. It cannot | the forms in any government are bad. it is a certain indication that the principles are bad also. I will here finally close this subject. I began it by remarking that Mr. Burke had voluntarily declined going into a comparison of the English and French constitutions. He apologized (p. 914) for not doing it, by saying that he had not time. Mr. f eight months in hand, and it Burke’s book was upw ards Oo extended to a volume of three hundred and fifty-six pages. As his omission does injury to his cause, his apology makes it worse ; and men on the English side of the water will begin to consider, whether there is not some radical defect in what is called the English constitution, that made it necessary in Mr. Burke to suppress the comparison, to avoid bringing it into view. As Mr. Burke has not written on constitutions, so neither has he written on the French revolution. He gives no account of its commencement or its progress. He only expresses his wonder. “It looks,” says he, “‘to me as if I were ina great crisis, not of the affairs of France alone, but of all Europe, perhaps of more than Europe. All circumstances taken to- eether, the French revolution is the most astonishing that has hitherto happened in the world. Ags wise men are astonished at foolish things and other peo- ple at wise ones, T know not on which ground to account for Mr. Burke’s astonishment; but certain it 1s that he does not understand the French revolution. It has apparently burst forth like a creation from a chaos, but it is no more than the consequences of mental revolution previously existing in France. The mind of the nation had changed beforehand, and a new order of things has naturally followed a new order of thoughts. J will here, as concisely as I can, trace ous the growth of the French revolution, and mark the circumstances that have con- tributed to produce it. The despotism of Louis the XIV., united with the gaiety of his court, and the gaudy ostentation of his charavicr, had so humbled, and at the same time so fascinated the mind of France, that the people appear to have lost all sense of their own dignity, in contemplating that of their erand monarch: and the whole reign of Louis XV. remarkable only for weakness and effemin-RIGHTS OF MAN. 287 acy, made no other alteration th lethar gy over the nation, from whi to rise. an that of spreading a sort of ch it showed no disposition The only signs which appeared of the spirit of liberty during those periods, are to be found in the writings of the French philosop! ners. Montesquieu, president of the parli iament of Bordeaux, went as far as a writer under a des potic govenment could well proceed: and } eing obliged to divi de himself between principle and prudence, his mind often appears under a veil, and we ought to give him credit for more than he has e pressed. Voltaire, who was both the flatterer and satirist of d¢ jotism, took another line. His forte lay in exposing and rel ing the superstitions which prie st-craft, united with state-cr: ae had interwoven with governments. It was not 7 om the purity of his principles, or his love of mankind (for satire and philan- thropy are not naturally concordant), but from his strong cap- acity of seeing folly in its true shape, and his irresistible pro- pensity to expose it, that he made those attacks, They were however as formidable as if the motives had been virtuous; and he merits the thanks rather than the esteem of mankind. On the contrary, we find in the writings of Rousseau and Abbé Raynal, a aval liness of sentiment in favor of liberty, that excites respect, and elevates the human faculties; yet having raised this epucation, they do not direct its operations, but leave the mind in love with an object, without descril bing the means of posse essing it. The writings of Quisne, Turgot, and the friends of those authors, are of a serious kind; 1 but they labored under the sume disady antage with Montesquieu; their writings abound with moral maxims of coqoenment but are rather directed to economise and reform the administrati ion of the government, than the government itself. But alt + those writings and many others had their weight; and by the different manner in which they treated the subject of government—Montesquieu by his judgment and knowle: lee of laws: Voltaire by his wit; Rousseau and Raynal by y their animation; and Quisne and Turgot by their moral maxims and systems of economy—readers of every class met with s something to their taste, and a spirit of political inquiry began to diffuse itself through the nation at the time the dispute Beewean Eing- land and the then colonies of America broke out. In the war which France afterwards engaged in, it is very een betes ta ea ae ett tr iy er tierce at ee ee Eueieneeeanesaeaaaieeeaeetiane Ssusgssegiise* >> = CTT rete ee at or tt ee a - —*< $ sisishse-nnosarii Toisas C - FETIRS pee ceeee ER NC eS Sa A SY OT NR SE TE Suerumneonsatnaesert itera riiire a 2 > a ~ . 238 RIGHTS OF MAN. } well known that the nation a uppea ured to be beforehand with the Wrench ministry. Each of them had its views; but those views were directed to different objects; the one sought liberty and the other Sy aL aan on England. ‘The French officers and sol- diers who after this went to America, were eventually placed in the school of freedom, and learned the practice as well as the +4 LU. principles of it by hea As it was impossible to separate the military events which took place in America from the principles . the American revolution, the publication a those events in France necessarily connected themselves with the principles that produc: 1 them. Many of the facts were in be aes iat ea coe suc declaration of American Independence, and the treaty of alliance *¢ 1 i h as the between France al nd America, which recognized the natural rights of man, and justified resistance to op] pression. ENS then minister of France, count Vergennes, was not the friend of America; and it is both justice and gratitude to say, that it was the queen of France who gave the cause of America a fashion at the French court. Count Vergennes was the personal and social friend of Dr. Franklin; and the doctor had de ained by his sensible gracefulness, a sort of influence over him; but with respect to principles, count Vergennes was a despot. The situation of Dr. Franklin as minister from America to France should be taken into the chain of circumstances. A diplomatic character is the narrowest sphere of society that man can actin. It forbids intercourse by a reciprocity of sus- picion; and a diplomatist is a sort of unconnected atom, con- tinually repelling and ee But this was not the case with Dr. Franklin; he was not the di iplomatist of a court but of man. His character as a halons had been long established, and his circle of society in France was universal. Count Vergennes resisted for a considerable time the publica- tion of the American constitutions in France, translated into the French language; but even in this he was obliged to give way to public opinion, and a sort of proprie ty in admitting to appear what he had undertaken to defend. The American constitutions were to libe rty, what a grammar is to language: they define its parts of speech, and practically construct them into syntax. The peculiar situation of the then marquis de la Fayette is another link in the great chain. He served in America as anM A N e American officer. under a commission of congress, and by the universality of his acqua the Givi line. |] alntance, was in close Briendal hip with covernment ‘of A merica as well as with the milita Ary e spoke the la discussions on the principle i le guage of the country, entered into the s of government, and was aly LYS a welcome friend at an 1y election. When the war closed, a vast reinforcement to the cau: se of liberty spread itself over France, by the return of the eae officers and soldiers. A knowle \dge of as practice was then joined to the theory; and all that was want ing to give it real existence, was opportunity. Man cannot, properly speaking, make circumstances for his purpose, but he always has it in his pores to improve them when they occur: and this was the case in France. M Neckar was displaced in May, 1871; and by the ill man- agement of the finances afterwards, and particularly during the extravagant administration of M. ¢ Calonne, the revenue of rane e which was nearly twenty-four millions sterling ‘ per year, was become unequal to the expenditures, not because the revenue had decreased, but because the expenses had increased, and this was the cir¢umstance which the nation laid hoid of to bri ing forward a revolution. The English minister, Mr. Pitt, has fre- quently alluded to the state of the French finances in 7 is bud- gets, without understanding the subject. Had the French par- liaments been as ready to register edicts for new taxes as an English parliament is to grant them, there had been no derange- ment in the finances, nor yet any revolution: but this will be in explain itself as I proceed, It will be necessary here to show how taxes were formerly raised in France. The king, or rather the court or ministry, acting under the use of that name, framed the edicts for taxes at their own discretion, and sent them to the parliaments to be registered; for until they were registered by the paEhements, they were not operative. Dis Spuves had long existed | Jetween the court and the parliament with respect to the extent ot the parliament’s authority on this head. The court insisted that the authority of parliament went no further than to remonstrate or show reasons against the tax, reserving to itself the right of determining whether the reasons were well or ill-founded; and m consequence thereof, either to withdraw the edict as a matter of choice, or to order it to be registered as a matter of authority, The parliaments on their part insisted that they had not only a 19 .S l i SgeesdssWessss4 7e2ese59! dnheces (FPP Eee TT sieseteerr. SrtEt sess see esity a] SPipebes PIO PSE eeeee ee eed Si tt PERE RE EEE eS a. oe Bete TL au aErr LeleLe ices: ete ter ery tetatey 290 RIGHTS OF MAN. right to remonstrate, but to reject; and on this ground they were always supporte d by the nation. Mn oe 4A ae order of dy narrative.—u.. Oalonne But to return to the order of my narrative. iM. Ualonne wanted money ; and as he knew the sturdy disposition of the Ye a a with respect to new taxes, he ingeniously sougut e nt] le means than that of di- either t o approac h them by a mor ( >* rect authority, or to get over tier He be “ ees s J Y ads s by a mancuvre: ana, for Sie Vr ic mire er eas this purp¢ se, he revived tne Bee or assem bling a poay or men . ac ¢ exe i ae from the seve ral provinces, under the style of an “‘ assembly ot : Z Rifai 7 TOM Te on at her the notables,’ or men of note, W ho mnet in 1787, and were either to recommend taxes to the parliame nts. or to act asa pe ment themselves. An assembly under this name had been called in 1687. As we are to view this as the first practi ical step tows ards the revolution, it will be proper to enter into some particulars res- pecting it. The assembly of the 1otables has in some places been mistaken for the states ge eral, but was wholly a different body; the states-general bein; yalways by election. ‘The persons who composed the assembly ott the notables were all nominated by the king, and consisted of one hundred and forty members. But as M. Calonne could not depend upon a majority of this assembly in his favor, he very inge niously arranged them in such a manner as to make fo ‘ty- four a majority of one hundred and forty: to this effect he disposed of them into seven separate committees of twenty members each. Every general question was to be decided, not by a majority of persons, but by a ma- jority of committees ; and, as eleven votes would mieilce a majority in a committee, and four committees a majority of seven, M. Calonne had good reason to conclude, that as forty-four would determine any general question, he could not be out-voted. But all his plans deceived him, and in the event became his over — throw. The oe marquis de la Faye te was placed in the second com- mittee, of vhich count d’Art : was president; and as money matters was the object, it Gatiialll brought into view every circumstance connected with it. M. de la Fayette made a ver- bal charge against Calonne, for selling crown land to the amount of two millions of livre .s, in a manner thet appeared to be un- known to the king. The count d’ Artois (as if to intimidate, for the Bastile was then in being) asked the marquis if he w ould render the charge in writing? He replied that he would. The count d’Artois did not demand it, but brought a message e fromRIGHTS OF MAN, 29] tne king to oA ‘Purport. M. de la Fayette then delivered ; his charge in writing, to be given to the king, undertak ing to Support it. Wert further procee dings were had upon this affair: but M. Calonne Was soon after dismisse: d by the king, and went to England. As M. dela Fayette ,tromthe experience he had had in A merica, was better acquainted with the science of civil government th: an the generality of the members w ho composed the asse mbly of ¢] notables could then | be, the brunt of the} to his le business fell c onside srably share. The plan of those who] had a constitution in vie Ww, was to contend with the court on the ground of taxes. 7 of thea openly professed their a arose between count d’ Artois and M. and sane Disputes frequently e la Fay ette upon vari- ous subjects. With respect to the arrears already incurred, the latter x promised to remedy them, by accommod ating t] une expenses expenses; and as to the revenue, instead of the re venue to the objects of reform, he proposed to abolish t] e Bastile, and all the State prisoners throughout the nation (the k eeping of which was attended with great expense) and to Suppress lettres de cachet - but those matters were not then much attended to; and with respect to lettres de cachet, a majority of the nobles s appeared to be un favor of them. On the Subject of supplyi ng the treasur y assembly declined ta] + mipen@gere Dut, W ith respect to the cour peut MUtETE, L 1 } medium through whic I Lespotism was tO Pass, W1IELDOUT appear- > # ’ Ine to act alrectiy rrom 1tSeLT. THY 7 8 Wore | bs aa 4 7 +. tyr Lhair now san tr} The cabinet nad nign ¢ xpectations trom tnelir new contrl- < a Valice "he perso} vho were to COMPOse the cow PplLEenrere Tr a lr »y 7 in: t | « € id 9c 14 W990 WaerPR.S 9 7% - Ayryry § were already nominated, aha as It was necessary tO Caily a P55 - , ; } De at acl ee ee ae ; “ Tair appearance, Many of the pest characters 1n tne nation were ik ‘J . 7 7 Fi 11 ( ' appointed amone the numoer. it was to commence on tne otn i = Re . . f May, 1788; but an opposition arose to 1t, on two grounds ey j the one as to principle, the other as to Iorm. A 4 hae) Vineet ; On the cround of principle, 1b was contended, that gover = ; C i L } 4. - i 4 ae oe ee i} i Sie en ravicr ti ment had not a right to aiter 1 self: and that 1 tne practic was Once admitted Lt would SorOW 1NntoO a principe, and be mac +] a precedent for any future alterations the government might wish to establish; that the right of altering the government was a national right, and not a right of covernment, And on the ground of form nothing more than a large cabinet. The then dukes dela Rochefoucault, Luxembourg, de Noailles, and many others, refused to accept the nomination, and strenu hole plan. When the edict for establishing + to be enregistered, and put into execution, they resisted also. LU was contended TAAL the COUr plenrere was ously opposed the W this new court was sent to the parliaments The parhament o1 Paris not only refused, but denied the authority ; and the con test renewed itself between the parliament and the cabinet more strongly then ever. While the parliament was sitting in debate on this gubject, the ministry ordered a regi:aent of sol diers to surround the house, and form a blockade. The mem- bers sent out for beds and provision, and lived as in a besieged citadel: and as this had no effect, the commanding officer was ordered to enter the parliament house and seize thein, which he did, and some of the principal members were shut up in differ ent prisons. About the same time a deputation of persons arrived from the province of Britanny, to remonstrate agains! the establishment of the cour pleniere ; and those the archbishop sent to the Bastile. But the spirit of the nation was not to be overcome; and it was so fully sensible of the strong ground it 8had taken, that « “a9 J vito ee »€ ite ux quiet resistance, which effectually cwAY yz , 1.7 : ‘ overtorew all the plans a project of the cour pleniere was at last An Lhe iy » Inister nat lInng oft . yl] + 7 1 eae te and the prime minister not ] ng alterwards tollowed its fate a = Au and M. Neckar was recalled yy Riess L } 7° y phe attempt tO establish CNe cour 4 LE nvE the nation which was not anticipat UU al re had an effect upon ok It ») WaS & sort ot hew form Of government, that insensibly served to put the old on e 4 out of siol and to unhinee it fram +] eel OL slg nt, and to UNnNINE lt from the supe titious aut 10r ity re 1 Se T 4 rex: iin x. ~» Y mH. oe. £ cien list, 1 saw al Pty ) : weyenen' fir endeavorec i bili Die 7 7 1 bat WV ea 4 1 res ( to tl ness Or tne The departure cient course coml nencement clash af arranging eal] ] Y ing of the state = five months, and S t they were put, 1 their particular whole time passed ue du Cabi trig r OY ape A enlichtening t] ee that manner ; ees) 1 three hundred s. 1 Te ey ~ sembimne then i rin which they should emai those date S$ were ) | ) ‘ivil government; that it did not meet at Versailles in located themselves in | art the part not see all that before as after m a national scale), three Dae and so ange “r arate chat mber. the aristocracy; but whet tO- wee not a contested election, but but princi- committees of cor- throug] rout the 1e people, and explain- hie) Y ) } olive rise even to the April, 1789, 4d i the aristo- may rity privilege of ee as 1t or their negative in high-beneficed clergy their order. called) disowned any ces; and they were not only reso- Ow 1 < eos Knowieage : [ read the that was to follow. I have - ot i general met, A a the m they ae the confus ion eT? I) que du Cabinet,” (‘ s any De ieee was thous cht of in France, speak- 16] ‘“They held che public in suspense » heat with w how naa more to satisfy of the nation; and the y in falter ations, ceremonies and parade.”—‘“ L’In- alled to compose. Cabinet’), who wrot Says, itated therein, an rreat (les grands) th to procure the gooc | + XX . > but Was nou al ha } n ne co ild bey Ts ad mV ancient course he is unacquaint 1 & } n the experience had upon it states-ceneral of 1614 were called at the inority of Louis XIII. ; but by the h ik yle to make distinctly see all compré -hensit mn. 1 j him see A ural weak- 3 OT ee that the an- 4 | ley were ‘Intrigue of the ichRIGHTS OF MAN. 297 lute on this point but somewhat disdainful. They began to consider aristocracy as a kind of fungus growing out of the corruption of soci that could not be admitted even as a branch of ib: and dee Lbhe disposition the a "1Stocracy had shown, by upholding /ettres de cachet, and in sundry other in- stances, it was manifest that no constitution could be formed by admitting men in any other character than as national men. After ek alte (sti on ae head, the tiers etat, or commons (as they were then called), « leclared the ree es (on a motion made for that 5 en ry the Abbé Sieye ‘¢ MAE REPRE- SENTATIVES OF THE NATION; and that a two orders could be considered but as deputies of corporations, and could only have a deliberative voice but avhen the Y asses mbled in a national char- This proceeding ex- tinguis hed the Sty le et etats GJENETAUL OY states general, and erected it into the style it now bears, that of ?assemblée nation- ale or national eactibiye This motion was not made ina haa manner: it was the result of cool deliberation, and concerted between the na- ati coihe members of the two . 7 acter, with the national r 4 Wteohuaeitee tional representatives and the p: chambers, who saw into the folly, m ee and injustice of artificial privileged distinctions. [t was become evident, that no constitution, worthy of being called by that name, could be established on anything less than a national ground. ‘The aris- tocracy had hitherto opposed the despotism of the court, and affected the Lanai of patriotism ; but it opposed it as its | King John), and it now yosed the nation from the same m otis eS. n carrying this motion, the national representatives, as had rival (as the English barons opposer been conce rted, sent an ny itation to the tw o chambers, to unite with seth in a national character, and proceed to business. A majority of the clergy, “ie fly y of the parish priests, withdrew from the clerical chamber, and joined the nation; and forty-five from the other chamber joined in like manner. There is a sort of secret history belonging to this last SIEGES Paaee which is necessary to its expl lanation: it was not judged prudent that all the patriotic members of the chamber, styling itself the nobles, should quit it at once ; and in consequence of this a arrangement, they drew off by degrees, always leaving some, as well to rea son the case, as to watch the suspected. In a little time, the numbers increased from forty-five to eighty, and soon after to a creater number; which with a majority of the clergy and the area pesste Seat die i = Sod or PaaS core Ds dmbececy Ce Tee eet Ty Seteseiver es. spies yssi ge se El ese x298 RIGHTS OF MAN, PETE Ett iat bi tit eee = 8 whole of the national representatives, put the malcontents in a a very diminutive condition. : The king, who, very different to the general class called by that name. is a man of a good heart, showed himself disposed to dD recommend a union of the three chambers, on the sround the national assembly ae taken; but the malcontents exerted themselves to prevent it, and began now to have another pro PS ory eS PPS PT iris eae cee" : ject in view. Their numbers consisted of a 1 ajority of thi 3 aristocratical chamber, and a minority of the clerical chamber & chiefly of bishops and high beneficed cena and these mei 4 were determined to put everything at issue, as well by strengtn as by stratagem. They ha d no objection to a constitution; but it must be such an one as themselves should dictate, and suited to their own views and particular situations. On the other hand, the nation disowned knowing anything of them bui and was determined to shut out all such upstart pr 1e more aristocracy appeared, the more it was as citizens tensions. despised; there was a visible imbecility and want of intellects inthe majority, a sort of je ne sais quot, that while it affected to be more than citizen, was less than man. It lost groun: more from contempt than from hatred: and was rather jeere: at as an ass than dreaded asa lion. This is the general cha acter of aristocracy, or what are called nobles or nobility, rather no-ability, in all countries. The plan of the malcontents consisted now of two things ; either to deliberate and vote by chambers (or orders), more oneal, on all questions respecting a constitution (by which the aristocratical chamber would have had a negative on any article of the constitution) or, in case they could not accomplish this object, to overthrow the national assembly entirely. To affect one or the other of these objects, they began now to cultivate a friendship with the despotism they had hitherto attempted to rival, and the count d’Artois became their chief. The king (who has; since declared pee deceived into their measures) held, according to the old form, @ bed of justice, in which he accorded to the deliberation Ati vote par téte (by head) upon several objects; but reserved the deliberation and vote upon all questions respecting a constitution to the three cham bers separately. This declaration of the king was made against the advice of M. Neckar, who now began to perceive that he was crowing out of fashion at court, and that another minister was 1n contemplation.RIGHTS OF MAN, 299 As the form of sit iting in separate chambers wag yet SPpa ently kept uy », though essenti: lly y destroyed the national repr sentatives, immediate ly after an declars ation of the kin resorted to their chambers to consult on a Py rotest aga 21nst " . ay ee eee np ie . ’ r a and the minority of the chamber (callix 1¢ itself the nobles) who 4 i Ji y iv had joined the national cause. retired to a private house to con ; i Yaw JUs J NS | Li “ NOY 1 my ‘ * Figs Me my sa de real 1 =; s sult in like manner. The malcontents had by this time con- certed their measures with the court, which count d’Arto; VY I ) veh Xu undertook to conduct; and as they t] y saw, trom the discontent which the declaration excited. ti} ; aud the opposition makine igainst it, that they could not obtain a control over the ended constitution by a separate vote, they elves for their final object that of cons in- p repare d them- piring against the S38 a A : : ] : ] . e - = > noe iational assembly. and averthro wang it nit rE Sper e. = eee [he next morning, the door of the chambey ‘of the national assemb ly, was shut against them, and euarded by troops; and the members were refused admittance. On this they withdrew to a tennis-ground in the neighborhood of Versailles. as the most convenient place they could ne and, after ee their session, took an oath never to separate from each other, under any circumstances whatever, death Reed until flee had established a constitution. As the experiment of shutting up the house had no other effect than that of producing a closer connexion in th pene it was opened again the next day, ind the public bi isines Ss recommence d in the usual place. We now are to have os view the forming the new ministry, which was to accomplish the ove hee of the national assembly Sut as force would be nea y, orders were issued to assemble thirty thousand troops, the command of which was given to Broglio, one of the ne\ viy-inéend ministry, who was “recalled from the country for this purpose. But as some management was necessary to ke ep this plan concealed till the moment it should be :eady for execution, it is to this policy that a declar- ation made by the count d’ Artois must be attributed, and which is here proper to be introduced. It could not but occur, that while the malcontents continued to resort to their chambers separate from the national assem- bly, that more jealousy would be excited than if they were mixed with it, and that the plot might be suspected. But as they had taken their ground, and now wanted a pretence for quitting it, it was necessary that one should be devised. This was effectually accomplished by « ‘eclaration made by count Sreorteset ese ai Bese tedeseesdwhececclc 5 SS Sey ee Sy Te i EPsesStssrS oo PPeyrrrre Stet etre ri tt SF bao Perr er ee4 Pace Ti Heeesigitit ne : ed y ed é 2 ~~ g om os « ~ os ra i ve we x A a EA shy ah ie * ie ° iS stato ab eb ee ty resers tre treee re by Trier? ti "i My fees Saree t ete toe. . are SEES oU0 RIGHTS OF MAN, t a) in the national assemd d’Artois, that “<7f they took no part ly, the life of the ee on which they qu titted their chambers and mixed with the assembly in one body. At the time this declaration was made, it was generally treated as a piece of absurdity in the count d’Artois, and calcu- lated merely to relieve the outstanding members of the two chambers from the diminutive situation they were put in; and i had followed, this conclusion would have been 3ut as things best explain themselves by events, this apparent union was only a cover to the machinations that were ing more good. going on, and the declaration accommodated itself to answer that purpose. In a little time the national assembly found itself surrounded by troops, and thousands daily arriving On this a very strong d > esl r SeCCret Ly eclaration was made by the national assembly to the king, remonstrating on the Te eye of the 1d demanding the reason. The | . Q QQ tween twenty-five and thirty thousand forel ign troops, was measure, 2! arrived to support them. The mask was now thrown off, and matters were come to a crisis. The event was, that in the i the new ministry and all their abbettors ound it F prudent to fly the nation; the Bastile was taken, and 3 his foreign troops dispersed; as is already related - + Cl ] in LOrimMeé! part OF SOILS Work. e $ : - L S = 1 1 a eS The re are some cur1ious circumstances in tne history ot this 1 Se ead Pee pee : ; - sabe > pAtT . short-lived ministry, and this brief attempt ata counter-revolu lace of oe where the court was sitting, was not more than four hundred yards distant from the hall where the national assembly was sitting. The Ue OT aEES were at this moment like the separate headquarters of two combatant enemies; yet the court was as perfectly ignorant of the informa- aris to the national assembly, as if it had resided at a hundred miles distance. The then marquis de la Fayette, who (as has been already mentioned) was chosen to preside in the national assembly on ‘this particular occasion, tion which had arrived from F named, by order of the assembly, three successive deputationsRIGHTS OF MAN, to the king, on the day, and up to the evening on which the Sastile was taken, to inform and confer with him on the state of affairs; but the ministry, who knew not so much as that it was attacked, precluded all communication, and were solacing themselves how dexterously they had succeeded: but in a few hours the accounts arrived so thick and fast, that they had to start from their desks and run; some set off in one disevist and some in another, and none in their own character. ue} anxiety now was to outride the news, lest they should be stopped, which, though it flew flast, flew not so fast as them- selves. It is worth remarking, that the national assembly neither pursued those fugitive conspirators, nor took any notice of them, nor sought to retaliate in any shape whatever. Occupied with establishing a constitution, founded on che, ae of man and the authority of the people, the only authority on which government has a right to exist in any country, the national assembly felt none of those mean passions which mark the charac ter of impertinent governments, founding themselves on their own authority, or on the absurdity of here ditary succession. [t is the faculty of the human mind to become what it contem- plates, and to act in unison with its object. The conspiracy being thus dispersed, one of the first works of the national asse mbly, instead of vindicitive proclamations, as has been the case with other governments, published a ceclara- tion of the rights of man, as the basis on which the new consti- tution was to be built, and which is here subjoined. Declaration of the rights of.man and of citizens: by the national assembly of France. “The representatives of the people of France, formed into a national assembly, considering that ignorance, neglect, or con- tempt of human rights, are the sole causes of public misfortunes Se and corruptions of gov orion have re solved to set for Eby 7 solemn declaration, “these natural, imprescriptible, and unalien- able rights: that this declaration being constantly present to the minds of the body social, they may be ever kept attentive to their rights and their aes that the acts of the legislative and executive powers of government, being capable of being every moment compared with the end of political institutions, may be more respected: and also, that the future claims of the n 9 th o& ee ee ee ne ee: = Pe ete bae reo E The Slee eee Tiere) eet ore ec et T ee oe ee Ph ees a Hed Bo Re oe aed Peter ee er itr ees PeSbos eset eo ee ee Ed eFeseyt eeerr set eneii cis a Pare ore | rn Seabee ES Ea pees SS Et, doth tte tees RIGHTS OF MAN. citizens, being directed by simple and incontestable principles, the general happiness. “Hor these reasons the national assembly doth recognize and declare, in the presence of the Supreme Being, and with the hope of his blessing and favor, the following sacred rights of men and of citizens: ‘““T. Men are born and always continue free and equal in respect of their rights. Civil distinctions, therefore, can only be founded on public utility. “TJ. The end of all political associations is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man; and these rights are liberty, property, security, and resistance of oppres- sion. “JIT. The nation is essentially the source of all sovereignty : nor can any individual or any body of men, be entitled to any authority which is not expressly derived from it. “TV. Political liberty consists in the power of doing what- ever does notinjure another. The exercise of the natural rights of every man has no other limits than those which are necessary to secure to every other man the free exercise of the same rights; and these limits are determinable only by law. ““V. The law ought to prohibit only actions hurtful to so- ciety. What is not prohibited by the law, should not be hindered ; nor should any one be compelled to that which the law does not reauire. “VI. The law is an expression of the will of the community. All citizens have a right to concur, either personally, or by their representatives, in its formation. It should he the same to all, whether it protects or punishes; and all being equal in its sight, are equally eligible to all honors, places, and employ- ments, according to their different abilities, without any other distinction than that created by their virtues and talents. ‘“ VII. No man should be accused, arrested, or held in con- finement, except in cases determined by the law, and according to the forms which it has prescribed. All who promote, solicit, execute,.or cause to be executed, arbitrary orders, ought to be punished; and every citizen called upon or apprehended by virtue of the law, ought immediately to obey, and not render himself culpable by resistance. “VIII. The law ought to impose no other penalties than such as are absolutely and evidertly necessary; and no oneRIGHTS OF MAN, 303 ought to be punished, but in virtue of ala the offence and legally applied. “IX. Every man being presumed innocent till he has been convicted, whenever his detention becomes indispensable, all rigor to him, more t! han is necessary to secure his person, ought to be provided against by the law. ok ag man ought to be ions, not even on account of | avowal of them does not dist the law, “XI. The unrestrained opinions being one of the citizen may speak, write W promulgated before molested on account of |} nis opin- us religious opinions, provided his urb the public order established by communication of thoughts most precious righ , and publish sposible for the abuse of this liber Law. “ XIT. A public force } the rights of men and of cit and its of man, every freely, proviced he is re- ty in cases determined by the elnge necessary tO give security to izens, that force is instituted for the benefit of the community, and not for the particular benefit of the persons with whom it is intrusted. “XIII. A common contribution being necessary for the support of the public force, and for defraying the other expenses of government, it ought to be divided equally among the mem- bers of the community, according to their abilities, “XIV. Every citizen has a right, either representative, to a free voice in de public contributions, the appropriation of them, and their amount, mode of assessment, and duration. “XV. Every community has a right to demand of all its agents an account of their conduct, ENS, Every community in which a and a security of rights is not provide .by himself or his otermining the necessity of Separation of powers d for, wants a constitu- tion. i oN NT Tr] mMoht tr Tat k in 7 Tiole bl 5 ] 2a] “XVII. The richt to property being inviolable and sacy od, no one ought to be deprived of it, except in cases of evident public necessity legally ascertained, and on condition of a pre- vious just indemnity.” Observations on the declaration of rights. The three first articles com prehend in general terms the whole of a declaration of rights ; all the Succeeding articles either originate out of them, or follow as elucidations. The 4th, 5th, taeketcss Ase restTet? oa es reese aes ee ees $2eaesae : ee hk eds ce ead SES PTT err Tee Te Resex, Sire pester tease ess te c ct Sseyisei=Peau eeeesiahs te) th Eh Be AEE TERE LEE, ee ce er bite teerees 33 eeaar s2q8 Pe ES Trt t ef ee ee: RIGHTS OF MAN. and 6th, define more particularly what is only generally ex- S Sas ee 2 ¢ } I Os 7 pressed in the Ist, 2nd, and 3rd. 7, Q 4+] +] lt) 1+} Y= la “6 ry AT The 7th, 8th, 9th, 1Oth, and 11th articles are declaratory of c : nrinciples upon which laws shall be construed comformable to DT bTUCUP LE s upon WhOICNn AWS nati pe COnsStruead COMrormMadie to vy ae lragdv daclared RP, it 1S: G1 ts 1d bv 7 »verv onnd rugs aire ady aeciarea. but lt 1s Questioned Dy some very 200d : . we . 7 : : } : 1fh\ people in France, as well as in other countries, whether the 1Cth article sufficiently guarantees the right it is intended to accord os 1 . Feces . 7 mr oe uy 11 1° . 1s . 5 re with: besides which, it takes off from the divine agiginity of religion, and weakens its operative force upon the mind to make - ° ! 2 ¥ 1 : . A Toy it a subject of human laws. It then presents itself to man, like light intercepted by a cloudy medium, in which the source of it aoe a steer lia oad aie, ee ee has is obscured from his sight, and he sees notning to reverence in the dusky rays.* The remaining articles, beginning with the 12th, are sub- ] of the preceding articles; but, in the particular situation in which France then was, hay- In ° . 1 . 7 e « > 1 stantially contained in the principles oF ti itu g to undo what was wrong, as well as to set up what was right, it was proper to be more particular than in another condition of things would be necessary. While the declaration of rights was before the national assem- bly, some of its members remarked, that if a declaration of rights was published, it should be accompanied by a declaration of duties. The observation discovered a mind that reflected, and it only erred by not reflecting far enough. A declaration of rights is, by reciprocity, a declaration of dutigs also. Whatever iS my right as a man, is also the right of another; and it becomes my duty to guarantee, as well as to possess. The three first articles are the basis of liberty, as well indi- vidual as national; nor can any country be called free, whose government does not take its beginning from the principles they * There is a single idea, which, if it strikes rightly upon the mind, either in a legal or a religious sense, will prevent any man or any body of men, or any government, from going wrong on the subject of religion ; which is, that before any human institutions of gov ernmeyt were known in the world, there existed, if I may so express it, a compaxé between God and man, from the beginning of time ;.and that as the relation and condition which man in. his individual person stands in towards his Maker cannot be changed, b¥ any human laws or human authority, that religious devotion, which is a pare of this compact, cannot so much as be made a subject of human laws : and that all laws must conform themselves to this prior existing compact, and not assume to make the compact conform to the laws, which, besides being hu- man, are subsequent thereto. The first act of man, when he looked around vnd saw himself a creature which he did not make, and a world furnished for his reception, must have been devotion; and devotion must ever continue racr ed to every individual man, as it appears right to him: and govern- mer ’Sdo mischief by interfering.RIGHTS OF MAN, 305 ¢ontain, and continue to preserve them pure: and the whole of the declaration of rights is of more value to the world, and will do more good, than all the laws and statutes that have yet been promulgated. : In the declaratory e xordium which prefa ot rights, we see the solemn and majestic spectacle of a nation opening its commission, under the auspices of its Creator, to establish a government; a scene so new, and so transcendently unequalled by anything in the European world, that the name of a revolution ds inexpressive of its character, and it rises into a regeneration of man. What are the present governments of Europe, but a scene of iniquity and oppression? What is that of England? Do not its own inhabitants say, itis a market where every man has his price, and where corruption is common traffic, at the expense of a deluded people? No wonder, then. that the French revolution is traduced. Had it confined itself merely to the destruction of flagrant despotism, perhaps Mr. Burke and some others had been silent. Their ery now 18; has gone too far:” that is, gone too far for them. It stares cor- ruption in the face, and the venal tribe are allalarmed. Their fear discovers itself in their outrage, and they are but publish- ing the groans of a wounded vice. But from such opposition, the French revolution, instead of Suffering, receives homage. The more it is struck, the more sparks will it emit; and the fear is, it will not be struck enough. It has nothing to dread from attacks. Truth has given it an establishment; and time will record it with a name as lasting as its own. Having now traced the progress of the French revolution through most of its principal stages, from its commencement to the taking of the Bastile, and its establishment by the declaration of rights, I will close the subject with the energetic apostrophe of M. de la Fayette—May this great monument raised to Liberty, serve as a lesson to the oppressor, and an example to the op- pressed | * ces the declaration * See p. 244 of this work.—N.B. Since the taking the Bastile, the occur rences have been published: but the matters recorded in this narrative are prior to that period, and some of them, as may easily be seen, can be but very little known. 20 4 ETI RET RT ORT SRg¥SeS 25h GS isi sean eae eS Perey ee! A ES a ee ee ek ee TTT CET CUT ee ees eon Chk S lkre tititir its tistti bike eo Seis e. lie ~ ; Py a var 4 + 3 S i i * on 4347o140404 Pee ee cea ‘eg eae RIGHTS: OF MAN. MISCELLANEOUS CHAPTER, To prevent interrupting the argument in the preceding part of this work, or the narrative that follows it, I reserved some observations to be thrown together into a miseellaneous chapter ; by which variety might not be censured for confusion. Mr. Burke’s book is aid miscellany. His intention was to make an attack on the French revolution; but instead of proceeding with an orderly arrangement, he has stormed it with a mob of ideas, tumbling over and destroying one another. But this confusion and contradiction in Mr. Burke’s book, is easily accounted for. When a man in any cause attempts to steer his course by anything else than some popular truth or principle, he is sure to be lost. It is beyond the compass of his capacity to keep all the parts of an argument together, and make them unite in one issue, by any other means than hav- ing his guide always in view. Neither memory nor invention will supply the want of it. The former fails him, and the latter betrays him. Notwithstanding the nonsense, for it deserves no better name. that Mr. Burke has asserted about hereditary rights, and hereditary succession, and that a nation has not a right to form a government for itself, it happened to fall in his way to sive some account of what government is. ‘*Government,” savs he, “is a contrivance of human wisdom.” “Admitting that government is a contrivance of human wis- dom, it must necessarily follow that hereditary succession and hereditary rights (as they are called) can make no part of it, because it is impossible to make wisdom hereditary ; and, on the other hand, that cannot be a wise contrivance, which in its operation may commit the government of a nation to the wisdom of an idiot. The ground which Mr. Burke now takes is fatal to every part of his cause. The argument changes from hereditary rights to hereditary wisdom ; and the question is, who is the wisest man? He must now show that everyone in the line of hereditary succession was a Solomon, or his title is not good to be a king. What a stroke has Mr. Burke now , se a sailor’s phrase he has swabbed the deck, and - made! to us a name legible in the list of kings; and he has scarcely lef i eLtRIGHTS OF MAN. 307 mowed down and thinned the house of formidable as death and time. But Mr. B ind he has ment to be peers with a scythe as urke appears to have been aware of this retort, taken care to guard ag ainst it, by making govern not only a contrivance of human wisdom, but a monopoly of wisdom. He puts the nation as fools on one side. and places his government of wisdom, all wise men of Gotham. on the other side; and he then proclaims, and says that “men have a RIGHT that their WANTS should be provided for by this wisdom.” Having thus made proclamation, he next proceeds to explain to them what their wants are, and also what their rights are. In this he has succeeded dexterously, for he makes their wants to be a want of wisdom; but as this is but cold comfort, he then informs them, that they have a right (not to any of the wisdom) but to be governed by it; and in order to impress them with a solemn reverence for this monopoly- sovernment of wisdom, and of its vast capacity for all purposes, possible or inpossible, right or wrong, he proceeds with astro- logical, mysterious importance, to tell them its powers in these words-—“ The rights of men in government are their advan- tages: and these are often in balances between differences of good; and in compromises sometimes between good and evi/. and sometimes between evil and evtl. Political reason is a computing principle , adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing, morally and not metaphysically or mathematically, true moral demonstrations.” As the wondering audience whom Mr. Burke supposes him- self talking to, may not understand all this jargon, I will under- take to be its interpreter. The meaning then, good people, of all this is, that government is governed by no principle whatever , that it can make short, that government is arbitrary power. But there are some things which Mr. Burke has forgotten: Ist, he has not shown where the wisdom originally came from: and, 2nd, he has not shown by what authority it first began to act. In the manner he introduced the matters, 1t is either government stealing wisdom, or wisdom stealing government. It is without an origin, and its powers without authority. In short, it is usurpation. Whether it be from a sense of shame, or from a conscious- ness of some radical defect in government necessary to be kept out of sight, or from both, or from some other cause, I under- evtl good, or good evil, just as it pleases. In t eee Ssa3232 RSSSSSS ee * S eee er ee 4 Lz ‘ ‘ eee ere e Thee ee Teri Ler EP aoe Ss SSleT TITS ti eseeaaeSe stat 45474 ecb dese. pStegeeret Gesenstese Sur sea ees eeTe PeTini ter iat atai tt tase : * ao se a 3 ~— + = 5 a = me A : , x 73% eet Stat EEA hE SUS RIGHTS OF MAN, take not to determine; but so it is, that a monarchical reasoner never traces government to its source. It is one of the shibbo- leths by which he may be known. A thousand years hence, those who shall live in America, or in France, will look back with contemplative pride on the origin of their governments, and say, this was the work of our glorious ancestors / But what can a monarchical talker say? What has he to exult in? Alas! he has nothing. zs Phaaes| Er eaaee. fs \ o- 4 a 4 = ms % 3] Pay apeTeseetiisiseseranitayis cage +9e4e8 ee PEERS +eisdrgs sPedgizicigdesedi ied s Es 310 RIGHTS OF MAN. yhich parliament can go upon the case ; but the right of the nation goes to the whole case, because it is the right of chang- ing the whole 2 form of government. ‘The agit of a parliament is only ar rust. a right by delegation, and that but from 1} vig Gye ae ew Rae Vt Te ee abe : a very small part of the nation ; and one of its houses has nol even this. But the right of the nation 1S an original ibs: a universal as taxation. The nation is the paymaster of every thing, and everything must conform to 1ts general wu. | remember taking notice of a speech in what 1s ealled th: oe Ae of Shelburne, and | Enelish house or peers, by the then 1 was at the time he was ‘geben which is applicable 1 } n every S I do not directly charge my memory wit particular ; but the words and the purport as nearly as | re member, were these : that the form of government was a matier wholly at the will of a nation at all ivmes- that uf ut chose a monarchical form, 1% had a reght to have at so, and uf it after wards chose to be a republic, it had a right to be a republ to say to @ king, we have no longer any occasion for you When Mr. Burke says that “‘ his m ajesty s heirs and succes- sors, each in their eee aud order, will come to chhe crown with ia vu the same contempt of their choice with Heal his majesty has he succeeded to that he wears,” 16 18 saying too much even to the ° fx3 1 j a8 } ise humblest individual in the country ; part of whose daily labor goes towards making up tne million sterlir ng a-year W hich the eountry Pives a person it stvVles a KING. (sovernment with 1n- be Send iam | arhat is add 1, Sa ey ence, 1S Gespotism but when conte mpt lS ac id e¢ 1G becomes L worse : and to pay ror contenpt 1s the excess of slavery. his i species of Bey chuenen comes from Germany ; and reminds m: of what one of the Brunswick soldiers tol d me, awe was taken isoner by the ‘Ammenienns in the late war; “ Ah!” said he. ‘America is a fine free country, it is worth pe oot s fighting for the difference by knowing my al in my country, eat straw, we eat SHWE od help aie coun- England or elsewhere, whose liberties ar terman principles of government a aa winces to be protect of Brunswick. x > > k + BE +] 4 >t) Nea + sometimes speaks of ngiand, sometimes ol etimes of the world, and of government in cult to answer his book without apparently meeting him on the same ground. Although pupsig of 5 r 4 Ste aoe! Ye } ; governinent are general subj ects, it is next to impossible, in 7 ? a or piace and Cli- » ca i | ee many cBses, to separate them rrony tHe IGer * } tRIGHTS OF MAN. 31] cumstance ; and the more so when circumstances are put for arguments, which is frequently the case with Mr. Burke. In the former part of his book, addressing himself to the people of France, he savs, ‘‘ No experience has taught us (meaning the English), that in any other course or method than that of an hereditary crown, can our liberties be regular! ly per- petuated and preserved sacred as our hereditary right.” ‘Task Mr. Burke who is to take them away? M. de la Fayette, in speaking of oe says, “For a nation to be free, it is suffici- ent that she wills it.” But Mr. Burke represents Eneland as wanting capacity to take care of itself; and that its liberties must be taken care of by a king, holding it in “contempt.” If England is sunk to this, it is preparing ‘itself to eat straw, as in Hanover or in Brunswick. But besides the folly of the de- claration, it happens that the facts are all against Mr. Burke. lt was by the government being hereditary, that the liberties of the people were endangered. ( nee s I. and James IT. are oe of this truth, yet neither of them went so far as to holt 1e nation in co ntempt. tes it is sometimes of advantage to the people of one country to hear what those of other countries have to say respecting it, Hrance may learn something from Mr. Burke’s book, and that the pec ople of England may also learn something. from the answers it will occasion. When nations fall out about freedom, a wide field of debate is opened. The argument commences with the rights of war, without its evils: : aud as knowledge is the object contended for, the party a sustains the defeat obtains the prize. Mr. Burke talks about what he calls an hereditary crown, as if it were some production of nature; or as if, like time, it had power to operate not only independently, but in spite of man ; or as if it were a thing or a subject inode consented to. nes ties, but is the reverse of them a’ w) 1 it is possible that the people of Alas! it has none of those p all. It is a thing of imaginatio1 aid propi riet y of which is more than doubted, and the legality of which in a few years will be denied. But, to arrange this matter in a clearer view than what general expressions can convey, 1 it will be necessary to state the distinct heads under which (what is called) an hereditary crown, er, more properly spenting an hereditary succession to the government of a nation, can be considered, which are, lst. The right of a particular family to establish itself. DSR REE TA xs. : r Pea 2% PePees etre s eye 2 ie i Pere) eet erate ter? eS eb a eter rere it oP Ty et ey ees cea sD LED eek OG sf ah gee tgserr ito ret haar er tearey hott siaer 49 RIGHTS OF MAN, 2nd. The right of a nation to establish a particular family. With respect to the jirst of these heads, that of a family establishing itself with hereditary powers on its own authority, and independent of the consent of a nation, all men will concur in calling it despotism; and it would be trespassing on their understanding to attempt to prove it. But the second head, that of a nation establishing a parti- cular family with hereditary powers, does not present itself as despotism on the first reflection; but if men will permit a second reflection to take place, and carry that reflection taal but one remove out of their own persons to that of their off- spring, they will then see that hereditary succession becomes in its consequences the same despotism to others, which they repro- bated for themselves. It operates to preclude the consent of the succeeding generation, and the preclusion of consent is des- potism. When the person who at any time shall be in posses- sion of a government, or those who stand in succession to him, shall say to a nation, | hold this power in “contempt” of you, it signifies not on what authority he pretends to say it. It is no relief, but an aggravation to a person in slavery, to reflect that he was sold by his parent; and as that which heightens the criminality of an act cannot be produced to prove the legality of it, hereditary succession cannot be established as a legal thing. In order to arrive at a more perfect decision on this head, it will be proper to consider the generation which undertakes to establish a family with hereditary powers, separately from the generations which are to follow; and also to consider the char- acter in which the first generation acts with respect to succeeding generations. The generation which selects a person, and puts him at the head of its government, either with the title of king, or any other distinction, acts its own chovce, be it wise or foolish, as a free agent for itself. The person so set up 1s not hereditary, but selected and appointed; and the generation who sets him up, does not live under an he -editary government, but under & government of its own choice and establishment. Were the generation who sets him up, and the person so set up,-to live forever, it never could become hereditary succession: hereditary succession can only follow on death of the first parties. As therefore hereditary succession is out of the question with respect to the first generation, we have now to consider theRIGHTS OF MAN, 313 character in which that generation acts with respect to the com- mencing generation, and to all succeeding ones. It assumes a character, to which it has neither right nor title. It changes itself from a legislator to a testator, and affects to make its will, which is to have operation after the demise of the makers, to bequeath the government; and it not only attempts to bequeath, but to establish on the succeeding generation a mew and different form of government under which itself lived. itself, as is before observed, lived not under an_ hereditary government, but under a government of its own choice and establishment; and it now attempts by virtue of a will and testament (and which it has not authority to make), to take from the commencing generation, and all future ones, the rights and free agency by which itself acted. But exclusive of the right which any generation has to act collectively as a testator, the objects to which it applies itself in this case, are not within the compass of any law, or of any will or testament. The rights of men in society, are neither devisable, nor trans- ferable, nor annihilable, but are descendable only ; and it is not in. the power of any generation to intercept finally, and cut off the descent. If the present generation or any other, are dis- posed to be slaves, it does not lessen the right of the succeeding generation to be free: wrongs cannot have a legal descent. When Mr. Burke attempts to maintain that the Hnglish nation did, at the revolution of 1688, most solemnly renounce and abdt- cate their rights for themselves, and for all their posterity for ever, he speaks a language that merits not reply, and which can only excite contempt for his prostitute principles, or pity for his ignorance. In whatever light hereditary succession, as growing out of the will and testament of some former generation, presents itself, it is an absurdity. A cannot make a will to take from B his property, and give it to C; yet this is the manner in which (what is called) hereditary succession by law, operates. A certain former generation made a will to take away the rights of the commencing generation and all the future ones. and con- vey those rights to a third person, who afterwards comes for- ward, and tells them, in Mr. Burke’s language, that they have no rights, that their rights are already bequeathed to him, and that he will govern in contempt of them. From such principles, and such ignorance, good Lord deliver the world ! Pe bree ehieh ean ie Ses eae rao eee eres a S22GS ST HSetec aaararsaaie! TP pos 4 +. im on ° te i * $ 4 siete tie ttaret 314 RIGHTS OF MAN. But, after all, what is this metaphor, called a crown, or rather, what is monarchy? Is ita thing, or is it a name, or ig it a. . fraud 1 Is ita “contrivance of human wisdom,” or human eraft, to obtain money from a nation under specious pretences ? is 1b A thing necessary to a nation ? If it is, in what does that necessity consl ist, what service does it perfor m, what is its busi- ness, and what are its merits? Doth the antan consist in the metaphor, or in the man! Doth the goldsmith that makes the crown, make the virtue also? Doth it operate like Fortunatus’s wishing cap, or Harlequin’s wooden sword? Doth it make a man a conjurer ’ In fine, whatis it? Jt appears to be a some- thing going much out of fashion, falling into ridicule, and rejected in some countries both as unnecessary and expensive. In America it is considered as an absurdity, and in France it has so far declined, that the goodness of the man, and the res- Hees for his personal character, are the only things that preserve the appearance of its existence. [f government be wha ut Mr Burke describes it, “ca contriv- ance of human wisdom,” I might ask him, if wisdom was at such a low ebb in Ben that it was become necessary to im- port it from Holland and from Hanover? But I will do the country the justice to say, that that was not the case; and even if it was it mistook the cargo. The wisdom of every country, when properly exerted, is sufficient for all its purposes: and there could exist no more real occasion in England to have sent for a Dutch stadtholder, or a German elector, than there was in America to have done a similar thing. If a country does not understand its own affairs, how is a foreigner to under- stand them, who knows neither its laws, its manners, nor its language? If there existed a man so transcendently wise above all others. that his wisdom was necessa ry to instruct a nation, some reason might be offered for monarchy ; - but when we cast our eyes about a country , and observe how every part under- stands its own affairs; and when we look around the world, and see that of all men in it, the race of kings are the most in- significant in capacity, our reason cannot fail to ask us—W hat are those men kept for? [f there is anything in monarchy which we people of America do not understand, i wish Mr. Burke would be so kind as to inform us. I see in America, a government extending over a eountry ten times as large as England, and conducted with regularity for a fortieth part of the expense which governmentRIGHTS OF MAN. 815 oo , as aN te e ” atm is costs in England. If I ask a man in America, if he wants a king, he retorts, and asks me if I take him for an idiot. How 8 1t that this difference happens: are we more or less wise than others? I see in America the gene rality of the people living in style of plenty unknown in monarchical countries; and I see that the principle of its eeyemment, which is that of the equal rights of man, is making a ravi | progress in the world. ; If monarchy is a useless thing, w hy is it kept up anywhere ? And if a necessary thing, how can it be dispensed with ? Pal cwil government is necessary, all civilized nations will agree in ; but civil government is republican government. All that part of the government cof England which begins with the office of constable, and proceeds through the department of magistrate, quarter-session, and general assize, including the trial by jury, iS republican gi overnment. Nothing of monarchy appears 1D any part of ite except the name which William the Conquerox imposed upon the English, that of obliging them to call him ‘their sovereign lord the king.” It 1s easy to conceive, that a band of interested men, such as placemen, pensioners, lords of the bed-chamber, lords of thi kitchen, lords of the uecessary-house, and the Lord knows what besides, can Bnd ag many reasons for monarchy as their salaries, pend at the expense of the country, amount to; but if I ask th farmer. the manufacturer, the merchant, the tradesman, and down through ail the occupations of life to the common laborer, what service monarchy is to him, he can give me noanswer. If [ ask him what monarchy is, he believes it is something like a sinecure. Notwithstanding the taxes of England amount to almosi seventeen millions a-year, said to be for the CRDENEES § of sovern- ment, it is still pestle that the sense of the nation is left to govern itself, and does govern itself by magistrates and juries almost at its own oe on repub Hott principles, Maye ve of the ov of taxes. The salaries of the judges are almos t the only charge that ts paid out of the revenue. Considering that all the interna! government is executed by the people, the taxes of England onghi to be the lightest of any nation in Europe; instead of which, they are the Poniinny y. As this cannot be ac- eounted for on the score of civil government, the subject necessarily extends itself to the monarchi ical part. When the people of England sent for George I. (and it would lé 1 7 - ye} \ lisec Ca TNOT puzzle a wiser man than Mr. Burke to discover for what he Be ee ee oe ee de EE es epee ss rs cet hrTPiliishatial haiky ooo eo ae er ee 316 RIGHTS OF MAN, eould be wanted, or what service he could render) they ought at least to have conditioned for the abandonment of Hanover. Besides the endless German intrigues that must follow from a German elector’s being king of E ngland, there is a natural im- possibility of uniting in the same person the principles of freedom and the principles of despotism, or, as it is called in England, arbitrary power. A German elector is, in his electorate, a despot: how then should it be expected that he should be at- tached to principles of liberty in one country, while his interest in another was to be supported by despotism The union can- not exist; and it might easily have been foreseen, that German electors would make German kings, or in Mr. Burke’s words, would assume oo with “contempt.” The English have been in the habit of considering a king of England only in the character in which he appears to them; whereas the same person, while the connexion lasts, has a home-seat in another country, the interest of which is at variance with their own, and the principles of the government in opposition to each other. To such a person England will appear as a town resid- ence, and the electorate as the estate. The English may wish, as I believe they do, success to the principles of liberty in France, or in Germany; but a German elector trembles for the tate of despotism in his electorate; and the duchy of Mecklen- burg, where the present queen’s family governs, is under the same wretched state of arbitrary power, and the people in slavish vassalage. There never was a time when it became the English to watch continental intrigues more circumspectly than at the present moment, and to distinguish the politics of the electorate from polities of the nation. ‘The revolution of France has entirely changed the ground with respect to England and France, as nations: but the German despots, with Prus ssia at treir head, are combining against liberty, and the fondness of Mr Pitt for office, and the interest which all his family connexions have ob- tained, do not give sufficient security against this intrigue. As everything which passes in the w orld becomes matter for history, I will now quit this subject, and take a concise review of the state of parties and polities i in England, as Mr. Burke has done in France. Whether the present reign commenced with contempt, I leave to Mr. Burke: certain, however it is, that it had strongly that appearance. ‘The animosity of the English nation, it : is veryRIGHTS OF MAN, Ole well remembered, ran high: and, had the true principles of liberty been as well understood then as they now promise to be, it is probable the nation would not have patiently submitted to somuch. George I. and IT. were sensible of a rival in the remains of the Stuarts: and as they could not but consider themselves as standing on their good behavior, they had prudence to keep their German. principles of government to themselves; but as the Stuart family wore away, the prudence became less neces- sary. The contest between rights, and what were called prerogatives, continued to heat the nation till some time after the conclusion of the American revolution, when all at once it fell a calm, exe- cration exchanged itself for applause, and court popularity sprung up like a mushroom in the night. To account for this sudden transition, it is proper to observe, that there are two distinct species of popularity; the one ex- cited by merit, the other by resentment. As the nation had formed itself into two parties, and each was extolling the merits of its parliamentary champions, for and against the pre- rogative, nothing could operate to give a more general shock than an immediate coalition of the champions themselves. The parti- sans of each being thus suddenly left in the lurch, and mutually heated with disgust at the measure, felt no other relief than in uniting in a common execration against both. MaPEPTO i tet i stratesi ied 320 RIGHTS OF MAN, constitution. One member says, this is constitutional; an- other says, that is constitutional—'o-day it is one thing; to- morrow it is something else—while the maintaining the debate proves there is none. Constitution is now the cant word of parliament, turning itself to the ear of the nation. Formerly it was the wniversal supremacy and the omnipotence of parlia- ment. But since the progress of liberty in France, those phrases have a despotic harshness in their note; and the Eng lish parliament has caught the fashion from the national assembly, but without the substance, of speaking of a@ consti ition. As the present generation of people in England did not make the government, they are not accountable for any of its defects; but that sooner or later it must come into their hands to undergo a constitutional reformation, is as certain as that the same thing has happened in France. If France, with a revenue of nearly twenty-four millions sterling, with an extent of rich and fertile country above four times larger than Eng- land, with a population of twenty-four millions of inhabitants to support taxation, with upwards of ninety millions sterling of gold and silver circulating in the nation, and with a debt Jess that the present debt of England—still found it necessary, from whatever cause, to come to a settlement of its affairs, it solves the problem of funding for both countries. It is out of the question to say how long what is called the English constitution has lasted, and to argue from thence how long it is to last; the question is how leng can the funding system last? It is a thing but of modern invention, and has not yet continued beyond the life of a man; yet, in that short Space, it has so far accumulated that, together with the current expenses, it requires an amount of taxes at least equal to the whole landed rental of the nation in acres, to defray the annual expenditures. That a government could not always have gone on by the same system which has been followed for the last seventy years, must be evident to every man; and for the same reason it cannot always go on. The funding system is not money; neither is it, properly speaking, credit. It, in effect, creates upon paper the sum which it appears to borrow, and lays on a tax to keep the imaginary capital alive by the payment of interest, and sends the annuity to market, to be sold for paper already in circu- lation. If any credit is given, it is to the disposition of theRIGHTS OF MAN. oo people to pay the tax, and not ' to Bis government which lays it , what is supposed to be the on. W hen this disposi tion e credit of government e xpires W eh it. The instance of France. \der the former government, shows that it is impossible to compel the payment of taxes by force, when a whole nation is determined to take its sta ina oe th at ground. Mr. Burke, in his review of the finances of Franc e, state the quantity of gold and silver in France at about eichty- eight millions sterling. In doing this he ] has, I presu divided by the difference of exchange, instead OL the ee of twenty- four livres to a pound sterli ing; for M. Neckar’s statement. from which Mr. Burke’s is taken, is two thousand two hundred millions of livres, which is upwards of ninety-one millions and a half sterling. M. Neckar, in France, and Mr. George Chalmers, of the office of trade and plantation i in England, of eh Lord Hawkesbury s president, published nearly about the same time (1786) an account of the quantity of money in each nation, from the re- turns of the mint of each nation. Mr. Chalmers, from the returns of the English mint at the Tower of London, states the quantity of money in England, including Scotland and Ireland, to be twenty millions sterling.* M. Neckarj says that the amount of money in France, re- coined from the old coin which was called in, was two thousand five hundred millions of livres (upwards of one hundred and four millions sterling), and, after deducting for waste, and what may be in the West Indies, and other possible circumstances, states the circulating quantity at home to be ninety-one millions and a half sterling; but, taking it as Mr. Burke has put it, it is sixty-eight millions more than the national quantity in England. That the quantity of money in France cannot be under this sum, may at once be seen from the state of the French revenue, whew! referring to the records of the French mint for proofs. The revenue of France prior to the revolution was nearly twenty-four millions sterling; and as paper had then no exist- ence in France, the whole revenue was collected upon gold and silver; and it would have been impossible to have collected such a quantity of revenue upon a less national quantity than * See ‘Estimate of the Comparative Strength of Great Britain,” by Geo. Chalmers. aa + See ‘Administration of the Finances of France,” vol. iii., by M. Neckar. 21 TE EU PLN ERIE TR HLTA TEST AMET SIR NE AIEEE PNET SEN IEEE OR hh a Ek Ee pe OES RII STORIE Ts OS ORES Seeagszeess=4* Pre eee eesiesedeiiss ats Pa s Stoel etl iia! ‘e r a F pL i Y had a = P Ly => 6\6 2 ad k M. Neckar has stated. before the establishment of paper in England, the revenue was avout a fourth part of the national amount of gold and sib as may be known by referring te the revenue prior to L¥ng William, and the quantity of money stated to be in the maNon at that time, which was nearly as much as it is now It can be of no real service to a nation, to impose upon itsel or to permit itself to be imposed upon; but the prejudices o some. and the imposition of others, have always represented Myles tees < 7 ; See ee aE 1 Hrance as a nation possessing ! vn four times what 5 R Veg - F x —s ui ut little money, whereas t ths the quantity quantity 1S not only more is in England, but 1s considerab]) To account. for this deficiency on the part 0 d be had to the Engh creater on a proporti no i. . numbers. land, some reference shoul s] 3 to multiply paper, and to substitute it in the room of money, in various shapes, and the more paper 1s multiplied, the more opportunities are afforded to export the specie; and it admits of a pos sibility (by extending it to small notes) of increasing paper, till there is no money left. I know this is not a pleasant subject to English readers; but the matters I am going to mention are so important in them- selves, as to require the attention of men interested in money transactions of a public nature. There is a circumstance stated i £ +h Av HS by M. Neckar, in his treat 1 system ol > as es S ee: funding. It operat atige on the administration ot finances, which has never been attended to in England, afc which forms the only basis whereon to estimate the quantity of money (gold and silver) which ought to be in every nation in Europe, to preserve a relative proportion with other nations. Lisbon and Cadiz are the two ports into which (money) gold and silver from South America are imported, and which atter- wards divides and spreads itself over Europe by means of com- merce, and increases the quantity of money in all parts of Europe. If, therefore, the amount of the annual importation into Europe can be known, and the relative proportion of the foreign commerce of the several nations by which it is distribut- ed can be ascertained, they give a rule, sufficiently true, to ascertain the quantity of money which ought to be found in any nation at any given time. M. Neckar shows from the registers of Lisbon and Cadiz, that the importation of gold and silver into Europe, is five mil- lions sterling annually. He has not taken it on a single year, an but on an average of fifteen succeeding years, from i763 teRIGHTS OF MAN. 323 1777, both inclusive: in which tine the amount was one thou- sand eight hundred million livre es, which is se venty-fiv terling. * From the commencement of the Hanover succession in 1714, the time Mr. Chalmers published, is sev enty-two years; and the quantity importe -d into E jurope, in that time, would be three hundred‘and sixty millions sterling. if the foreign commerce of Great Britain be stated ata sixth part of what tle whole foreign commerce of Eur ope amount 3 to (which is probably an inferior estimation to what t] 1e gentle- men at the excl 1ange would allow), the proportion which Britain should draw by commerce, of this sum, to ke eep herself on a pro- portion with the rest of Eu rope, would be ale a sixth part, which is sixty millions sterling; and if the same allowance for waste and accident be made for England, which M. Neckaz makes for France, the « quantity remaining after these deduc- tions, would be fifty-two millions, and this sum ought to have been in the nation (at the time Mr. Chalmers published) in addition to the sum which was in the nation at the commence ment of the Hanover succession, and to have made in the whole at least sixty-six millions sterling ; instead of which there were but twenty millions, which is forty-six millions below its pro- portionate quantity. As the quantity of gold and silver imported into Lisbon and Cadiz 1s more easily ascertained than that of any commodity jin- ported i into England; and as the qaantity of money coined at Tower of London is still more positively known, the leading sa do not admit of a controversy. Hither, thenelon. iii commerce of England is unproductive e of role or the gold and silver which it brings in, leak continually away by. unseen means, at the average rate of about three- quarters of a million a-year, which in the course of seventy-two years, accounts for the deficiency; and its absence is supplied by paper. t e millions * Administration of the Finances of France, ~ol. +t Whether the English commerce does not being in AREY or whether » > government sends it out after it is brought in, is a n: ‘ter which the parties concerne d can best explain; but that the deficiency ex: sts ig not in the power sf either to disprove. While Dr. Price, Mr. Eden (now Auck cland), Mr. ‘Yhalmers, and others, were debating whether ek quantity of money we ereater or less than at the r revolution, the circumstance was not adverted to, thi at since the revolution there cannot have been less than four hundred mil- lions sterling imported into Europe; and therefore the quantity in England owrht at least to have been four times greater than it was at the revolution, ‘., be on a proportion with Europe. What England is now doing by paper, papa se nS weeerate tit eaaes. beet Pete ms eee hes BERR ES | ese AtSC LES ST + | Tete iri itree 324 RIGHTS OF MAN. The revolution of France is attended with many novel cir- cumstances, not only in the political sphere, but in the circle of money transactions. Among others, it shows that a govern- ment may be in a state of insolvency, and { ~ OO und a nation rich. - late government of France, it ow far as the fact is confined to the . j Fl ga aT ~ cy , » +t was insolvent; because the nation would no longer support its extravagance and therefore it could no longer suppport itseli- but with respect to the nation all the means existed. A govern- ment may be said to be insolvent every time it applies to a nation to discharge its arrears. The insolvency of the late covernment of France, and the present government of England, differed in no espect than as the disposition of the people differ. The people of France refused their aid to the old government, and the people of England submit to taxation without inquiry. What is called the crown in England has been insolvent several times ; 1777, when it the last of which, publicly known, was in May, other r -; what she should have been able to do by solid money, if gold and silver had come into the nation in the proportion it ought, or had not been sent out; and she is endeavoring to restore by paper the balance she has lost by money. It is certain, that the gold and silver which arrive annually in the register-ships to Spain and Portugal, do not remain in those c yuntries. Taking the value half in gold and half in silver, it is about four hundred tons annually: and from the number of ships and galleons employed in the trade of bringing those metals from South America to Portugal and Spain, the quantity sufficiently proves itself, without referring to the registers. In the situation England now is, it is impossible she can increase in money. High taxes not only lessen the property of the individuals, but they lessen also the money capital of the nation, by inducing smuggling, which can only be carried on by gold and silver. By the politics which the British govern- ment have carried on with the inland powers of Germany and the continent, it has made an enemy of all the maritime powers, and is therefore obliged to keep up a large navy: but though the navy is built in England, the naval stores must be purchased from abroad, and that from countries where the greatest part must be paid for in gold and silver. Some fallacious rumors have been set afloat in England to induce a belief of money, and, among others, that of the French refugees bringing great quantities. The idea is ridiculous. ‘The general part of the money in France is silver; and it would take upwards of twenty of the largest broad wheel wagons, with ten horses each, to remove one million sterling of silver. Is it then to be supposed, that a few people fleeing on horseback or in post-chaises, in a secret manner, and having the French custom-house to pass, and the sea to cross, could bring even a sufficiency for their own expenses? When millions of money are spoken of, it should be recollected, that such sums can only accumulate in a country by slow degrees, and a long proces- sion of time. The most frugal system that England could now adopt, would ntury the balance she has lost in money since the com- mencement of the Hanover succession. She is seventy millions behind France, and she must be, in some considerable proportion, behind every country in Europe, because the returns of the English mint do not show an snerease of money, while the registers of Lisbon and Cadiz show an European increase of between three and four hundred millions sterling. not recover in a ce5 RIGHTS OF MAN. 32 applied to the nation to discharge upwards of £600,000 private debts, which otherwise it could not pay. It was the error of Mr. Pitt, Mr. Burke, and all those who were unacquainted with the affairs of France, to confound the French nation with the French government. The French na- tion, in effect, endeavored to render the late government insol- vent, for the purpose of taking government into its own hands: and it reserved its means for the support of the new govern- ment. In a country of such vast extent and population as France, the natural means cannot be wanting; and the political means appear the instant the nation is disposed to permit them. When Mr. Burke, in a speech last winter in the British parlia- ment, cast his eyes over the map of Europe, and saw a chasm that once was France, he talked like a dreamer of dreams. The same natural France existed as before, and all the natural means existed with it. The only chasm was that which the extinction of despotism had left, and which was to be tilled up with a constitution more formidable in resources than the power which had expired. Although the French nation rendered the late government insolvent, it did not permit the imsolvency to act towards the creditors: and the creditors considering the nation as the real pay master, and the government only as the agent, rested them- selves on the nation in preference to the government. This appears | er to dist sh Mr. Burke, as the precedent is fatal to the policy by which governments have supposed themselves secure. They have contracte .d debts, with a view of attaching what is calle \d the monied interest of a nation to their support; but the example in France shows that the permanent security of the creditor is in the nation, and not in the government; and that in all possible rev olutions that may hap pen in govern- ments. the means are always with the nation, and the nation alwavs in existence. Mr. Burke argues that the creditors ought to have abided the fate of the government which they trusted: but the national assembly considered them as the creditors of the nation, not of the government——of the master, and not of the steward. Notwithstandtng the late government could not discharge the current expenses, the present government has paid off a great part of the capital. This has been accomp! lished by two means, the one by lessening the expenses of the government, and the other by the sale of the monastic and ecclesiastical landed estates, st Seed 2 Pee ee wy eed ree Sea rsei sees Oe eee Rp ee tae Pe at is Say REPe Pe TU IT LPP tite er tied. 326 RIGHTS OF MAN. The devotees and penitent debauchees, extortioners and misers of former days, to ensure themselves a better world than that they were about to leave, had bequeathed immense property 1n trust to the priesthood for pious uses; and the priesthood kept ‘+t for themselves. The national assembly has ordered it to be sold for the good of the whole nation, and the priesthood to be decently provided for. [In consequence of the revolution, the annual interest of the debt of France will be reduced at least six millions sterling, by paying off upwards of one hundred millions of the capita!; which, with lessening the former expenses of government least three millions, will place France in a situation worthy the imitation of Kurope. Upon a whole review of the subject, how vast is the contrast ! While Mr. Burke has been talking of a general bankruptcy im France, the national assembly have been paying off the capita! of the national debt; and while taxes have increased nearly a million a-year in England, they have lowered several millious a-year in France. Not a word has either Mr. Burke or Mr. Pitt said about French affairs, or the state of the French finan- ces, in the present session of parliament. The subject begins to be too well understood, and imposition serves no longer. There is a general enigma running through the whole of Mr. Burke’s book. He writes in a rage against the national as- sembly: but what is he enraged about? If his assertions were as true as they are groundless, and if France, by her revolution, had annihilated her power, and become what he calls a chasm, it might excite the grief of a Frenchman (considering himselt as a national man), and provoke his rage against the national assembly ; but why should it excite the rage of Mr. Burke} Alas! It is not the nation of France that Mr. Burke means, but the court; and every court in Europe, dreading the same fate, is in mourning. He writes neither in the character of a Frenchman nor an Englishman, but in the fawning character of that creature, known in all countries, as a friend to none, ® courtier. Whether it be the court of Versailles, or the cour: of St. James, or of Carlton House, or the court in expectation. signifies not; for the caterpillar principles of all courts and cour tiers are alike. They form acommon policy throughout Ku rope, detached and separate from the interest of the nations, and while they appear to quarrel, they agree to plunder. No thing can be more terrible to a court or courtier, then thewe revolution of France. That which is a blessing to nations is bitterness to them; and as their existence depends on the du plicity of a country, they tremble at one - approach of principle and dread the precedent that threatens their overthrow. CONCLUSION, Reason and ignorance, the opposites of each other, influence the great bulk of mankind. If either of these can be rendered sufficiently extensive in a country, the machinery of govern- ment goes easily on. Reason shows itself, and ignorance sub- nits to whatever is dictated to it. The two modes of government which prevail in the world, are, lst, government by election and repre coat an cat 2d, govern- ment by hereditary succession. The fin mer is generally known y the name of republic; the latter by that of monarchy and a1 ristoc racy. Those two distinct and opposite forms erect themselves on the two distinct and See bases of reason and ignorance. As the exercise of government requires talents and abilities, and as talents and abilities cannot tage hereditary descent, it is evident that hereditary succession requires a belief from man, to which his reason cannot subscribe, and which can only be established upon his ignorance; and themore ignorant any country 1s, the better it is fitted for the species of government. On the contrary, government ina ae Suto dd repu blic requires no beli« of from man be yond what his reason authorizes. He sees the ratz ns of the whole syster a ee S$ origin, and its operation ; and as it is best supported when best understood, the - 7 . . > . a human faculties wit with ety ic he acquire, under this form of government, a gigantic manliness. As, therefore, eac +h of aes forms acts on a different basis, the one moving freely by the aid of reason, the other by ignorance; we have next to consider, what it is that gives motion to that species of government which is called mixed government, ur, as it is sometimes ludicrously styled, a government of this, that, and tother. The moving power in this species of government is, ot neces- atv, corruption. However imperfect election and representation Bap 7 be in mixed vovernments, they still L give exertion to 2a TREN rE RT A SE ea s3r8 Serer ee ta ce ie ee oe oa oR MORIA 8 ery eet eee ee ey es Era eis x ee Resesedestresdmie Peper eae ois. eeTriltr stots lai itt poets lePpeer ets RIGHTS OF MAN. greater portion of reason than is convenient to the hereditary part ; and therefore it becomes necessary to buy the reason up. A mixed government is an imperfect every-thing, cementing and soldering the discordant parts together, by corruption, to act as a whole. Mr. Burke appears highly disgusted, that France, since she had resolved on a revolution, did not adopt what he ealls ‘‘a British constitution ;” and the regret which he expresses on this occasion, implies a suspicion, that the British constitu- tion needed something to keep its defects in countenance. In mixed governments, there is no responsibility; the parts cover each other till responsibility is lost; and the corruption which moves the machine contrives at the same time its own escape. When it is laid down as a maxim that a king can do no wrong, it places him in a state of similar security with that of idiots and persons insane, and responsibility is out of the question, with respect to himself. It then descends upon the minister, who shelters himself under a majority in parliament, which, by places, pensions, and corruption, he can always com- mand: and that majority justifies itself by the same authority with which it protects the minister. In this rotatory motion, responsibility is thrown off from the parts, and from the whole. When there is a part in a government which can do no wrong, it implies that it does nothing; and is only the machine of another power, by whose advice and direction it acts. What is supposed to be the king, in mixed governments, is the cabinet ; and as the cabinet is always a part of the parliament, and the members justifying in one character what they act in another, a mixed government becomes a continual enigma; entailing upon a country, by the quantity of corruption necessary to solder the parts, the expense of supporting all the forms of government at once, and finally resolving itself into a government by com- mittee; in which the advisers, the actors, the approvers, the justifiers, the persons responsible, and the persons not responsi- ble, are the same person. By this pantomimica!] contrivance, and change of scene and character, the parts help each other out in matters, which, nei- ther of them singly, would presume to act. When money is to be obtained, them ass of variety apparently dissolves, and a pro- fusion of parliamentary praises passes between the parts. Each admires, with astonishment, the wisdom, the liberality and disin- terestedness of the other ; and all of them breathe a pity ing sigh See ae 1 1 yi ees : at tne burdens of the nationRIGHTS OF MAN. 829 But in a well-conditioned republic, nothing of this soldering, praising and pitying, can take place; the representation being equal throughout the country, and complete in itself, however it may be arranged into legislative and executive, they have all one and the same natural source. The parts are not foreigners to each other, like democracy, aristocracy, and monarchy. As there are no discordant distinctions, there is nothing to corrupt by compromise, nor confound by contrivance. Public measures appeal of themselves to the understanding of the nation, and, resting on their own merits, disown any flattering application to vanity. ‘The continual whine of lamenting the burden of taxes, however successfully it may be practised in mixed governments, is inconsistent with the sense and spirit of a republic. If taxes are necessary, they are of course advantageous; and if they require an apology, the apology itself implies an impeachment. Why then is man thus imposed upon, or why does he impose upon. himself. When men are spoken of as kings and subjects, or when government is mentioned under distinct or combined heads of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, what is it that reasoning man is to understand by the terms? If there really existed in the world two more distinct and separate elements of human power, we should then see the several origins to which those terms would descriptively apply; but as there is but one species of man, there can be but one element of human power, and that elemept is man himself. Monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy are but creatures of imagination ; and a thousand such may be contrived as well as three. From the revolutions of America and France, and the symp- toms that have appeared in other countries, it is evident that the opinion of the world is changing with respect to systems of government, and that revolutions are not within the compass of politica calculations. The progress of time and circumstances, which men assign to the accomplishment of great changes, 1s too mechanical,to measure the force of the mind, and the rapi- dity of reflection, by which revolutions are generated ; all the old governments have received a shock from those that already appear, and which were once more improbable, and are a greater subject of wonder, than a general revolution in Europe would be Token teh er eee opt teeeimkecéce.. eet SoS eos tt searPetrerizi ti tit eitiiie ite SS ee ee eats mae bi ns iE a! 350 RIGHTS OF MAN. When we survey the wretched condition of man, under the monarchical and hereditary systems of government, draggea from his home by one power, or driven by another, and im- poverished by taxes more than by enemies, it becomes evident that those systems are bad, and that a general revolution in the principle and construction of governments is necessary. What is government more than the management of the affairs of a nation? It is not, and from its nature cannot be, the pro- perty of any particular man or family, but of the whole com- munity at whose expense it is supported; and though by force or contrivance it has been usurped into an inheritance, the usurpation cannot alter the right of things. Sovereignty, as a matter of right, appertains to the nation only, and not to any individual; and a nation has at all times an inherent, indefeasi- ble right to abolish any form of government it finds inconven- ient, and establish such as accords with its interest, disposition, and happiness. The 'romantic and barbarous distinctions of men into kings and subjects, though it may suit the condition of courtiers cannot that of citizens; and is exploded by the principle upon which governments are now founded. Every citizen is a member of the sovereignty, and as such can acknow- ledge no personal subjection; and his obedience can be only to the laws. When men think of what government is, they must neces- sarily suppose it to possess a knowledge of all the objects and matters upon which its authority is to be exercised. In this view of government, the republican system, as established by America and France, operates to embrace the whole of a nation: and the knowledge necessary to the interest of all the parts, is to be found in the centre, which the parts by representation form: but the old governments are on a construction that excludes knowledge as well as happiness; government by monks, who know nothing of the world beyond the walls of a convent, is as consistent as government by kings. What were formerly called revolutions, were little more than a change of persons, or an alteration of local circumstances. They rose and fell like things of course, and had nothing in their existence or their fate that could influence beyond the spot that produced them. But what we now see in the world, from the revolutions of America and France, are a renovation of the natural order of things, a system of principles as universal agRIGHTS OF MAN, truth and the existence of man, and combining moral with political happiness and national prosperity, ““T. Men are born, and always continue, free and equal, in respect to their rights. Civil distinctions, therefore, can be founded only on public utility. “II. The end of all political associations is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man, and these rights are liberty, property, security, and resistance of oppres- sion. “TIL. The nation is essentially the source of all sovereignty ; nor can any individual, or any body of men, be entitled to any authority which is not expressly derived from it.” In these principles there is nothing to throw a nation into confusion, by inflaming ambition. They are calculated to call forth wisdom and abilities, and to exercise them for the public good, and not for the emolument or agerandizement of particu- lar descriptions of men or families. Monarchical soverei enty, the enemy of mankind and the source of misery, is abolished, and sovereignty itself is restored to its natural and original place, the nation.— Were this the case throughout Europe, the cause of wars would be taken away. tis attributed to Henry IV. of France, a man of an enlarged and benevolent heart, that he proposed, about the year 1620, a plan for abolishing war in Kurope. The plan consisted in con- stituting an European congress, or, aS the French authors style it, a pacific republic; by appointing delegates from the several nations, who were to act, as a court of arbitration, in any disputes that might arise between nation and nation. Had such a plan been adopted at the time it was proposed, the taxes of England and France, as two of the parties, would have been at least ten millions sterling annually, to each nation, less than they were at the commencement of the French revolu- tion. To conceive a cause why such a plan has not been adopted, (and that instead of a congress for the purpose of preventing war, it has been called only to terminate a war, after a fruitless expense of several years,) it will be necessary to consider the interest of governments as a distinct interest to that of nations. Whatever is the cause of taxes to a nation, becomes also the means of revenue to a government. Every war terminates with an addition of taxes, and consequently with an addition ef revenue; and in any event of war, in the manner they ar 7% POF AR LEI ORGS ONS #2 a = RESTATED Poo tt et ery RS NS Te SS Lor= et ee ete ba BL EE ES | oi CP Oe eS hi ba bs] 332 RIGHTS OF MAN, ; now commenced and concluded, the power and interest of governments are increased. War, therefore, from its produc- tiveness, as it easily furnishes the pretence of nece ssity for taxes and appointments to places and offices, becomes the principal part of the system of old governments; and to establish any mode to abolish war, however advantageous it might be to nations, would be to take from such government the most lucrative of its branches. The frivolous matters upon which war 1s made, show the disposition and avidity of governments to uphold the system of war, and betray the motives upon which they act. W hy are not republics plunged into war, but because the nature of their government does not admit of an interest dis- tinct from that of the nation? Even Holland, though an ill- constructed republic, and with a commerce extending over the world, existed nearly a century without war: and the instant the far m of government was changed i in France, the republican principles of peace, and domestic prosperity and ec conomy, arose with the new government; and the same consequences would follow the same causes in oer nations. As war is the system of government on the old construction, the animosity w hich nations reciprocally entertain, is nothing more than what the policy of their governments excite, to keep up the spirit of the system. Each government accuses Hie other of perfidy, intrigue and ambition, as a means of heating the imagination of their respective nations, and incensing them to hostilities. Man is not the enemy of man, but through the medium of a false system of government. Instead, therefore, of exclaiming against the ambition of kings, the exclamation should be directed against the p rinciple of Seah governments ; and instead of seekin: g to reform ie derdins idual, the wisdom of a nation should apply itself to reform the system. tT af 1 : Y ° Whether the forms and maxims of governments which ai still in practice, were ada} pted to the condition of the in at the period they were e Sealiahe d, is not in this case the question. The older they are the less correspondence can thev have with the present state of things. Time, and change of circumstances and opinions have the same progressive effect in render ing modes of government abe6 let e; as they have upon customs and manners. Acriculture, commerce, manufacture Ss, and the tranquil arts, by which the prosperit rae nations is best promoted, require a different system of covernment and a different specie s of know-RIGHTS OF MAN. oD ledge to direct its operations, to what might have been the former condition of the world. As it is not difficult to perceive, from the enlightened state of mankind, that the heredit: ry governments are verging to their decline, and tha t revolutions on the broad basis of national sovereignty, and government by representation, are making their way in Europe, it would be an act of wisdom to anticipate their approach, and produce revolutions by reason and accommodation. rather than commit them to the issue of convulsions. From what we now see, nothing of reform in the politica! world ought to beheld improbable. It isan age of revolutions, in which everything may be looked for. The intrigue of courts, by which the system of war is kept up may provoke a confedera- tion of nations to abolish it: and an European congress to pat- ronize the progress of free government, and promote the civil- ization of nations with each other is an event nearer in proba- bility, than once were the revolutions and alliances of France and America, q MRM ra ere IER ae Pre ee Seed Peet ee! Pe Tee Giese taeTiPtt iti ela aet - rs tees eet ed GHTS OF MAN: PARE LE COMBINING PRINCIPLE PRACTICE.Pili, att aati PERT Sy roTO M. DE LA FAYETTE. AFTER an acquaintance of nearly fifteen years, in difficult situations ‘g America, and various consultations in Europe, I feel a pleasure in present- ing you this small treatise in gratitude for your services to my beloved of my esteem tor the virtues, public and private, which I know you to possess, The only point America, and as a testimony upon which I could ever discover that we differed, was not as to principles of fovernment, but astotime. For my own part, I think it equally as mjurious to good principles to permit them to linger, as tO push them on too fast. That which you suppose accomplishable in fourte fifteen years, I may believe practicable in kind, as it appears to me, are alway interest, provided it be represented in @ manner not to create suspic offend by assuming too much. not reproach. en or &® much shorter period. Man- s ripe enough to understand their true clearly to their understanding, and that ion by anything like self-design, nor to Where we would wish to reform we must When the American revolution was established, I fe It a disposition to sit! serenely down and enjoy thecalm. It did not appear to me that any object could afterwards arise gre: at enough to make me quit tranquillity, and feel as I had felt before. But when principle, and not place, is the energetic cause of action, a man, I find, is everywhere the same. I am now once more in the public world; and as I have not a right to contemplate on so many years of remaining life as you have, I am resolved to labor as fast as I can; and as T am anxious for your aid and your com- pany, I wish you to hasten your principles and overtake me. If you make a campaign the ensuing spring, which it is most probable there will be no occasion for, I will come and join you. Should the cam- paign commence I hope it will terminate in the extinction of German despotism, and in establishing the freedom of all Germany. When France shall be surrrounded with revolutions, she will be in peace and safety, and her taxes, as well as those of Germany, will consequently become less, Your sincere, Affectionate friend, THomas Paine, Lonvon, February 9, 1792, 3 Pea ree ee Se Te] ee Pyrat it et eres cetet eLetter Lecter! er eee te te Seryerre ‘ PORES ES EAU aN ae ee esPeerrrgets , * ee dePREFACE, eee Wuen I began the chapter entitled the Conclusion, in the former part of the “ Rights of Man,” published last year, it was my intention to have extended it to a greater length; but in casting the whole matter in my mind which I wished to add, I found that I must elther make the work too bulky, or csontract my plan too much. T therefore brought it to a clos a soon as the: subject would admit, and reserved what T had further to say to another opportunity. Several other reasons contributed to produce this determina- tion. I wished to know the manner in which a work, written in a style of thinking and expression at variance with what had been customary in England, would be received, before J proceeded further. A great field was opening to the view of mankind by means of the French revolution. Mr. Burke’s outrageous opposition thereto brought the controversy into England. He attacked principles which he knew (from infor- mation) I would contest with him, because they are principles I believe to be good, and which I have contributed to establish. and conceive myself bound to defend. Had he not urged the controversy, I had most probably been a silent man. Another reason for deferri ng the remainder of the work was, that Mr. Burke promised in his first publication to renew the subject at another opportunity, and to make a comparison of what he called the English and French constitutions. I there- tore held myself in reserve for him. He has published two works since, without doing this; which he certainly would not have omitted, had the comparison been in his favor. In his last work, his “Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs,” he has quoted about ten pages from the “ Rights of Man,” and having given himself the trouble of doing this, says, ‘‘he shall not attempt in the smallest degree to refute them,” meaning the principles therein contained. I am enough ac- quainted with Mr. Burke to know that he would if he could. But instead of contesting them, he immediately after ] ce T COonsoies or eT eter erase ter. pres ih NEARS PINES a) RS TOTES REIN ERT ICE care ms eMC : ahi . ooo) ee ae es ra Sates thes mebeacoiaas LESSEE SEs ecsr FosPePtri ire riceit tiie 340 PREFACE. himself with saying that “he has done his part.” —He has not done his part. He has not performed his promise of a com- parison of constitutions. He started a controversy, he gave the challenge, and has fled from it; and he is now & case wn pornt with his own opinion, that “the age of chivalry 1s gone!” The title. as well as the substance of his last work, his “Appeal,” is his condemnation. Principles must rest on their own merits, and if they are good, they certainly will. To put them under the shelter of other men’s authority, as Mr. Burke has done, serves to bring them into suspicion. Mr. Burke is not very fond of dividing his honors, but in this he is artfully ~ dividing the disgrace. But who are those to whom Mr. Burke has appealed? A set of childish thinkers and half-way politicians born in the last century; men who went no further with any principle than as it suited their purpose as a party; the nation sees nothing in such works, or such politics, worth its attention A little matter will move a party, but it must be something great, that moves a nation. “Though I see nothing in Mr. Burke’s Appeal worth taking notice of, there is, however, one expression upon which I shall offer a few remarks.—After quoting largely from the “ Rights of Man,” and delining to contest the principles contained in that work, he says, ‘“‘ This will most probably be done (¢f such writings shall be thought to deserve any other refutation than that of criminal justice) by others, who may think with Mr. Burke and with the same zeal.” In the first place, it has not been done by anybody. Not less, I believe, than eight or ten pamphlets, intended as answers to the former part of the “ Rights of Man” have been pub- lished by different persons, and not one of them, to my know- ledge, has extended to a second edition, nor are even the titles of them so much as generally remembered. As I am averse to unnecessarily multiplying publications, I have answered none of them. And as 1 believe that a man may write himself out of reputation when nobody else can do it, I am careful to avoid that rock. But as I decline unnecessary publications on the one hand, so would I avoid anything that looked like sullen pride on the other. If Mr. Burke, or any person on his side the question, will produce an answer to the “ Rights of Man,” that shall extend to a half, or even a fourth part of the number of copiesPREFACE. 341 to which the “ Rights of Man” extended, I will reply to his work. But, until this be done, I shall so far take the sense of the public for my guide (and the world knows I am not a flat- terer) that what they do not think worth while to read, is not worth mine to answer. I suppose the number of copies to’ which the first part of the “ Rights of Man” extended, taking England, Scotland, and Ireland, is not less than between forty and fifty thousand. I now come to remark on the remaining part of the quota- tion [ have made from Mr. Burke. “Tf,” says he, ‘‘such writings shall be thought to deserve any other refutation than that of ervminal justice.” Pardoning the pun, it must be criminal justice indeed that should condemn a work as a substitute for not being able to refute it. The greatest condemnation that could be passed upon it would be a refutation. But, in proceeding by the method Mr. Burke alludes to, the condemnation would, in the final event, pass upon the criminality of the process and not upon the work, and in this case, I had rather be the author, than be either the judge or the jury that should condemn it. But to come at once to the point. I have differed from some professional gentlemen on the subject of prosecutions, and | since find they are falling into my opinion, which I shall here state as fully, but as concisely as J can. I will first put a case with respect to any law, and then compare it with a government, or with what in England is or has been called a constitution It would be an act of despotism, or what in England is called arbitrary power, to make a law to prohibit investigating the principles, good or bad, on which such @ law, or any other is founded. If a law be bad, it is one thing to oppose the practice of it, but it is quite a different thing to expose its errors, to reason on its defects, and. to show cause why it should be repealed, or why another ought to be substituted in its place. I have always held it an opinion (making it also my practice) that it is better to obey a bad law, making use at the same time of every argument to show its errors, and procure its repeal, than forcibly to violate it; because the precedent of breaking a bad law might weaken the force, and lead to a discretionary viola- tion of those which are good. The case is the same with respect to principles and forms eye lis tee leer eres ey ¢ ae TS Se he eked a ae Stimhecks ete ~> eon bo a GS ROE Poe se eeirihasrti siti oem . 4 > ert Teeie site Prerrriiehes t. Fi eedeeese 342 PREFACE. of government, or to what are called constitutions, and the parts of which they are composed. It is for the good of nations, and not for the emolument or aggrandizement of particular individuals, that government ought to be established, and that mankind are at the expense of supporting it. The defects of every government and consti- tution both as to principle and form, must, on a parity of rea- soning, be as open to discussion as the defects of a law. and it is a duty which every man owes to society to point them out. When those defects and the means of remedying them, are cenerally seen by a nation,.that nation will reform its govern- ment or its constitution in the one case, as the government repealed or reformed the law in the other. The operation of government is restricted to the making and the administering of laws; but it is to a nation that the right of forming or re- forming, generating or regenerating constitutions and govern. ments belong; and consequently those subjects, as subjects of investigation, are always before a country as a matter of right, and cannot, without invading the general rights of that country, be made subjects for prosecution. On this ground I will meet Mr. Burke whenever he pleases. It is better that the whole argument should come out, than to seek to stifleit. It was him- self that opened the controversy, and he ought not to desert it. I do not believe that monarchy and aristocracy will continue seven years longer in any of the enlightened countries of Europe. [f better reasons can be shown for them than against them, they will stand; if the contrary, they will nov. Mankind are not now to be told they shall not think, or they shall not read: and publications that go no further than to investigate principles of government, to invite men to reason and to reflect, and to show the errors and excellencies of different systems, have a right to appear. If they do not excite attention, they are not worth the trouble of a prosecution; and if they do, the prosecution will amount to nothing, since it cannot amount ‘to.a-prohibition of reading. ‘This would be a sentence on the public, instead of the author, and would also be the most effectual mode of mak- ing or hastening revolutions. On all cases that apply universally to a nation, with respect to systems of government, a jury of twelve men is not competent to decide. Where there are no witnesses to be examined, no facts to be proved, and where the whole matter is before the whole public, and the merits or demerits of resting on theirPREFACE. 345 opinion; and where there is nothing to be known in a court, but what everybody knows out of it, every twelve men are equally as good a jury as the other, and would most probably reverse each other’s verdict; or, from the variety of their opinions, not be able to form one. it is one case whether a nation approve a work, or a plan; but it is quite another case whether it will commit to any such jury the power of determin- ing whether that nation has a right to, or shall reform its gov- ernment, or not. I mention these cases, that Mr. Burke may see I have not written on government without reflecting on what is law as well as on what are rights.—The only effectual jury in such cases would be a convention of the whole nation fairly elected; for, in all such cases, the whole nation is the vicinage. As to the prejudices which men have, from education and habit, in favor of any particular form or system of government, those prejudices have yet to stand the test of reason and reflec- tion. In fact such prejudices are nothing. No man is preju- diced in favor of a thing knowing it to be wrong. He is at- ached to it on the belief of its being right; and when ‘he sees it is not so, the prejudice will be gone. We have but a defec- tive idea of what prejudice is. It might be said that until men think for themselves the whole is prejudice and not opinion; for that only is opinion which is the result of reason and reflec- tion. I offer this remark, that Mr. Burke may not confide too much in what has been the customary prejudices of the country. But admitting governments to be changed all over Europe, it certainly may be done without convulsion or revenge. It is not worth making changes or revolutions, unless it be for some great national benefit, and when this shall appear to a nation, the danger will be, as in America and. France, to those who oppose, and with this reflection I close my preface. THomas Paine. Lonvon, Feb. 9, 7792. © RSsSSgsdsesgas se spsaess St Petes Se hee ai Ca a et a ey SE ae ee BS SiSPotiei ter riper hiity| od omRIGHTS OF MAN. PART IL INTRODUCTION, Wauat Archimedes said of the mechanical powers, may be applied to reason and liberty: “Had we,” said he, “a place to | stand upon, we might raise the world.” The revolution in America presented in politics what was only theory in mechanics. So deeply rooted were all the govern- ments of the old world, and so effectually had the tyranny and the antiquity of habit established itself over the mind, that no beginning could be made in Asia, Africa, or Europe, to reform the political condition of man. Freedom had been hunted round the globe: ,reason was considered as rebellion; and the slavery of fear had made men afraid to think. But such is the irrestible nature of truth, that all it asks, and all it wants, is the liberty of appearing. The sun needs no in- scription to distinguish him from darkness, and no sooner did the American governments display themselves to the world than despotism felt a shock, and man began to contemplate redress. The independence of America, considered merely as a separa- tion from England, would have been a matter but of little im- portance, had it not been accompanied by a revolution in the principles and practice of government. She made a stand, not for herself only, but for the world, and looked beyond the ad- vantages which she could receive. Even the Hessian, though hired to fight against her, may live to bless his defeat; and England, condemning the viciousness of its government, rejoice in its miscarriage. As America was the only spot in the political world where the principles of universal reformation could begin, so also was it the best in the natural world. An assemblage of circum- stances conspired, not only to give birth, but to add gigantic } } | SO I STS AE RNR EERO PSSERRERSSGITE 25 ra ee ELIT HET SOS PLA T, ‘i PS ee ee ’ ee epee Se eES Sak Ce ct torn c er ere mies ET . ry wSeres358 RIGHTS OF MAN. : Hereditary succession 1s a burlesque upon monarchy. It puts it in the most ridiculous light, by presenting it as an office which any child or idiot may fill. It requires some talents to be a common mechanic; but to be a king, requires only the animal figure of a man—a sort of breathing automaton. This sort of superstition may last a few years more, but it cannot long resist the awakened reason and interest of man. As to Mr. Burke, he is a stickler for monarchy, not alto- vether as a pensioner, if he is one, which I believe, but as a political man. He has taken up a contemptible opinion of mankind, who, in their turn, are taking up the same of him. He considers them as a herd of beings: that must be governed by fraud, effigy, and show; and an idol would be as good : fivure of monar chy with him, as a man. [If will, however, 4b him the justice to say, that, with respect to America, he has been very complimentary. He always contended, at least in my hearing, that the people of America were more enlightened than occ of England, or of any country in Europe; and that therefore the imposition of show was not necessary in their governments. Though the comparison between hereditary and elective monarchy, which the abbé had made, is unnecessary to the case, because the representative system rejects both; yet were [ to make the comparison, I should decide contrary to what he has done. The civil wars which have originated from contested here ditary claims, are more numerous, and have been more dread. ful, and of longer continuance, than those which have been occasioned by election. All the civil wars in France arose from the hereditary system; they were either produced by hereditary claims, or by the imperfection of the hereditary form, which admits of regencies, or monarchy at nurse. With respect to England, its history is full of the same a isfortunes. The contests for succession between the houses of York and Lancaster lasted a whole century; and others of a similar nature have renewed themselves since that period. Those of 1715 and 1745 were of the same kind. The succession-war for the crown of Spain embroiled almost half of Europe. The dis- : turbances in Holland are generated from the hereditaryship of the stadtholder. A government calling itself free, with an hereditary office, is like a thorn in the flesh, that produces a fermentation which endeavors to discharge iRIGHTS OF MAN, 30§ But I might zo further, and place also foreign wars, of what- ever kind, to the same cause. [i is by adding the evil of here- ditary succession to that of monarchy, that a permanent family interest is created, whose constant objects are dominion and revenue. Poland, though an el wars than those which are hereditary ; and it is the only govern- ment that has made a voluntary essay, though but a small one. to reform the condition of the country. Having thus glanced at a few of the defects of the old, or hereditary systems of government, let us compare it with the new or representative system. The representative system takes society and civilization for its basis; nature, reason, and experience for its guide. Experience, in all ages, and in all countries, has demonstrated that it is impossible to control nature in her distribution of mental powers. She gives them as she pleases. Whatever is the rule by which she, apparently to us, scatters them among mankind, that rule remains a secret to man. It would be as ridiculous to attempt to fix the hereditaryship of human beauty, as of wisdom. Whatever wisdom constituently is, it is like a seedless plant; it may be reared when it appears; but it cannot be voluntarily produced. There is always a sufficiency somewhere in the general mass of society for all purposes; but with respect to the parts of society, it is continually changing its place. It rises in one to-day, in another to-morrow, and has most prob- ably visited in rotation every family of the earth, and again withdrawn. As this is the order of nature, the order of government must necessarily follow it, or government will, as we see it does. degenerate into ignorance. The hereditary system, therefore, is as repugnant to human wisdom as to human rights; and is as absurd as it 1s unjust. As the republic of letters brings forward the hest literary productions, by giving to genius a fair and universal chance ; so the representative system of government is calculated to produce the wisest laws, by collecting wisdom where 1t can be found. I smile to myself when I contemplate the ridiculous insignificance into which literature and all the sciences would sink, were they made hereditary; and I carry the same idea into governments. An hereditary governor is as inconsistent as an hereditary author. I know not whether Homer or BReterer oem = a Se ective monarchy, has had fewer i he . ir A Ft be ese | pest ees 2 pee ee PETS POR AO STE ee ee ee! =i eB eGet Re Béctts Fs miSrS ionkeceSie eieheiadadeiees Ta TL ite? ee Lee LE Co ees Re Liiti cali t. 360 RIGHTS OF MAN. Euclid had sons; but I will venture an opinion, that if they had, and had left their works unfinished, those sons could not have completed them. Do we need a stronger evidence of the absurdity of hereditary government, than is seen in the descendants of those men, in any line of life, who were once famous! Is there scarcely an instance in which there is not a total reverse of the character? It appears as if the tide of mental faculties flowed as far as it could in certain channels, and then forsook its course, and arose in others. How irrational then is the hereditary system which establishes channels of power, in company with which wisdom refuses to flow! By continuing this absurdity, man is in per petual contradiction with himself; he accepts, for a king, or a chief magistrate, or a legislator, a person whom he would no elect for a constable. It appears to general observation, that revolutions create genius and talents; but those events do no more than bring m them forward. There exists in man, a mass of sense lying ina dormant state, and which, unless something excites it to action, will descend with him, in that condition, to the grave. As it is to the advantage of society that the whole of its faculties should be employed, the construction of government ought to be such as to bring forward, by a quiet and regular operation, all that extent of capacity which never fails to appear in revo- lutions. This cannot take place in the insipid state of hereditary gov- ernment, not only because it prevents, but because it operates to benumb. When the mind of a nation is bowed down by any political superstition in its government, such as hereditary succession is, 1t loses a considerable portion of-its powers on all other subjects and objects. Hereditary succession requires the same obedience to ignorance, as to wisdom; and when once the mind can bring itself to pay this indiscriminate reverence, it descends below the stature of mental manhood. It is fit to be great only in little things. It acts a treachery upon itself, and suffocates the sensations that urge to detection. Though the ancient governments present to us a miserable picture of the condition of man, there is one which above all others exempts itself from the general deseription. I mean the democracy of the Athenians. We see more to admire and less to condemn, in that great, extraordinary people, than in any thing which history affords, { 4 tRIGHTS OF MAN. 361 Mr. Burke is so little acquainted with constituent principles of government, that he confounds democracy and representation together. Representation was a thing unknown in the ancient democracies. In those the mass of the people met and enacted laws (grammatically speaking) in the first person. Simple democracy was no other than the common hall of the ancients. It signifies the form as well as the public principle of the gov- ernment. As these democracies increased in population, and the territory extended, the simple democratical form became un wiedly and impracticable ; and as the system of representation was not known, the consequence was, they either degenerated convulsively into monarchies, or became absorbed into such as then existed. Had the system of representation been then un- derstood, as it now is, there is no reason to believe that those forms of government, now called monarchical or aristocratical, would ever have taken place. It was the want of some method to consolidate the parts of society, after it became too populous, and too extensive for the simple democratical form, and also the lax and solitary condition of shepherds and herdsmen in other parts of the world, that afforded opportunities to those unnatural modes of government to begin. As it is necessary to clear away the rubbish of errors, into which the subject of government has been thrown, I shall pro- ceed to remark on some others. It has always been the political craft of courtiers and court governments, to abuse something which they called republican- ism ; but what republicanism was, or is, they never attempt to explain. Let us examine a little into this case. The only forms of government are, the democratical, the aristocratical, the monarchical, aud what is now called the representative. What is called a republic, is not any particular form of gov- ernment. It is wholly characteristical of the purport, matter, or object for which government ought to be instituted, and on which it is to be employed, res-publica, the public aftairs, or the public good; or, literally translated, the public thing. It isa word of a good original, referring to what ought to be the character and business of government; and in this sense it is naturally opposed to the word monarchy, which has a base original signification. It means arbitrary power in an indivi- dual person ; in the exercise of which, homse/f, and not the res- nublaca, is the object. SHER eee pray rete hei tester ee reteset tree Pesce, ce he y ed ee et ke kT SS OSSIAN DSI I LEER T OREN GER BEE AIT poate ied ete aires es eter er teat ory erg Sletre tte btar er acu li sae et ae 362 RIGHTS OF MAN. Every government that does not act on the principle of a republic, or, in other words, that does not make the res-publica its whole and sole object, is not a good government. Repub- lican government is no other than government established and conducted for the interest of the public, as well individually as collectively. It is not necessarily connected with any particular form, but it most naturally associates with the representative form, as being best calculated to secure the end for which a nation 1s at the expense of supporting it. Various forms of government have effected to style themselves republics. Poland calls itself a republic, but is in fact an hereditary aristocracy, with what is called an elective monarchy. Holland calls itself a republic, which is chiefly aristocratical, with an hereditary stadtholdership. But the government of America, which is wholly on the system of representation, is the only real republic in character and practice, that now exists. Its government has no other object than the public business of the nation, and therefore it is properly a republic; and the Americans have taken care that thzs, and no other, shall be the object of their government, by their rejecting everything he- eure , and establishing government on the system of represen- tation only. Those who have said that a republic is not a form of govern- ment calculated for countries of great extent, mistook, in the first place, the business of a government, for a form of govern- ment; for the res-publica equally appertains to every extent of territory and pep ueeaont And, in the second place, if they meant anything with respect to form, it was the simple demo- cratical form, such as was the mode of government in the ancient democracies, in which there was no representation. The case, therefore, is not that a republic cannot be extensive, but that it cannot be extensive on the simple democratic form; and the question naturally presents itself, What is the best form of gov- ernment for conducting the RES-PUBLICA or PUBLIC BUSINESS of a nation, after wt becomes too extensive and populous for the simple democratical form ? It cannot be monarchy, because monarchy is subject to an objection of the same amount to which the democratical form was subject. It is possible that an individual may lay down a system of principles on which government shall be cons titutionally estab- lished to any extent of territory. This is no more than anRIGHTS OF MAN 363 operation of the mind acting by its own powers. But the practice upon those principles, as applying to the various and numerous circumstances of a nation, its agriculture, manufac tures, trade, commerce, &c., require a knowledge, of a different kind, and which can be had only from the various parts of society. It is an assemblage of practical knowledge, which no one individual can possess ; and therefore the monarchical form iS aS much limited, in useful practice, from the incompetency of knowledge, as was the democratical form from the multiplicity of population. The one degenerates, by extension, into con- fusion ; the other into ignorance and incapacity, of which all the great monarchies are an evidence. The monarchical form, therefore, could not be a substitute for the democratical, because it has equal inconveniences. Much less could it when made hereditary. This is the most effectual of all forms to preclude knowledge. Neither could the high democratical mind have voluntarily yielded itself to be governed by children and idiots, and all the motley insignifiance of character, which attends such a mere animal system, the dis- grace and the reproach of reason and of man. As to the aristocratical form, it has the same vices and defects with the monarchical, except that the chance of abilities is better from the proportion of numbers, but there is still no security for the right use and application of them.* Referring, then, to the original simple democracy, it affords the true data from which government on a large scale can begin. [t is incapable of extension, not from its principle, but from the inconvenience of its form ; and monarchy and aristocracy from their incapacity. Retaining, then, democracy as the ground, and rejecting the corrupt systems of monarchy and aristocracy, the representative system naturally presents itself ; remedying at once the defects of the simple democracy as to form, and the incapacity of the other two with regard to knowledge. Simple democracy was society governing itself without the use of secondary means. By ingrafting representation upon democracy, we arrive at a system of government capable of embracing and confederating all the various interests and every extent of territory and population; and that also with advan- tages as much superior to hereditary government, as the repub- tic of letters is to hereditary literature. soe oe s . oe aes ay A * wae ° £ oy * Vor a character of aristocracy, the reader is referred to ‘‘ Rights cf Man, part i. p. 275 et seq. Ct a et rr eo ao PEER oe Se kee ee PPP eee rte SeTeseirere = SSESSHITSTSS*GE STINETPS Phy a Meitri titi trite 4 aes ‘ te a oe ‘ ron ear ttal esieiait 364 RIGHTS OF MAN. It is on this system that the American government was founded. It is representation inerafted upon democracy. It has settled the form by a scale parallel in all cases to the ex- tent of the principle. What Athens was in miniature, America will be in magnitude. The one was the wonder of the ancient world—the other is becoming the admiration and model of the present. It is the easiest of all the forms of government to be understood, and the most eligible in practice; and excludes at once the ignorance and insecurity of the hereditary mode, and the inconvenience of the simple democracy. It is impossible to conceive a system of government capable of acting over such an extent of territory, and such a circle of interests, as is produced by the operation of representation. France, great and populous as it is, is but a spot in the capac- iousness of the system. It adapts itself to all possible cases. It is preferable to simple democracy even in small territories. Athens, by representation, would have surpassed her own de- mocraey. That which is called government, or rather that which we ought to conceive government to be, is no more than some com- mon centre, in which all the parts of scciety unite. This can- not be established by any method so conducive to the various interests of the community, as by the representative system. It concentrates the knowledge necessary to the interests of the parts, and of the whole. It places government in a state of constant maturity. It is, as has already been observed, never young, never old. It is subject neither to nonage or dotage. [t is never in the cradle nor on crutches. It admits not of a separation between knowledge and ] ower, and is superior, as a government ought always to be, to all the accidents of indivi dual man, and is therefore superior to what is called mon archy. A nation is not a body, the figure of which is to be repre sented by the human body; but is like a} a circle, having a common centre. and that centre is formed by representation. To connect lep sentation with what is called monarch J ody contained within in which every radius meess: y, is eccentric governn.ent. Representation is of itself the delegated monarchy of a nation, and cannot debase itself by dividing it with another. Mr. Burke has two « speeches, and in his publ that conveyed no ideas. x three times in his parliamentary ications, made use of a jingle of words Speaking of government, he says, “ItRIGHTS OF MAN. 365 is better to have monarchy for its basis, and republicanism for its corrective, then republicanism for its basis, and monarchy for its corrective.” If he means that it is better to correct folls with wisdom, than wisdom with folly, I will not otherwise con- tend with him than to say it would be much better to reject the folly altogether. But what is this thing which Mr. Burke calls monarchy % Will he explain it: all mankind can understand what represen tation is; and that it must necessarily include a variety of know- ledge and talents. But what security is there for the same qualities on the part of monarchy? Or, when this monarchy is a child, where then is the wisdom? What does it know about government? Who then is the monarch ? or where is the mon- archy? If it is to be performed by regency, it proves to bea farce. A regency is a mock species of republic, and the whole of monarchy deserves no better appellation. It isa thing as various as imagination can paint. It has none of the stable character that government ought to possess.. Every succession is a revolution, and every regency a counter-revolution. The whole of it is a scene of perpetual court cabal and intrigue, of which Mr. Burke is himself an instance. Whether I have too little sense to see, or too much to be im posed upon: whether I have too much or too little pride, or of anything else, I leave out of the question ; but certain 1% is, that what is called monarchy, always appears to me a silly, con- temptible thing. I compare it to something kept behind a cur tain, about which there is a great deal of bustle and fuss, and a. wonderful air of seeming solemnity; but when, by any accident, the curtain happens to be open and the company see what it is, they burst into laughter. In the representative system of government, nothing like this can happen. Like the nation itself, it possesses a perpetua! stamina, as well of body as of mind, and presents itself on the open theatre of the world in a fair and manly manner. What- ever are its excellencies or its defects, they are visible to all. It exists not by fraud and mystery; it deals not in cant and sophistry ; but inspires a language, that, passing from heart to heart, is felt and understood. We must shut our eyes against reason, we must basely de- grade our understanding, not to see the folly of what is called monarchy. Nature is orderly in all her works; but this is a mode of government that counteracts nature. It turns the pro- Peay #3 a. ters RPE ST Seged saree bak Ea Peeper sy es USE oS a es ee366 RIGHTS OF MAN. sress of the human faculties upside down. It subjects age to be governed by children, and wisdom by folly. On the contrary, the representative system is always parallel with the order and immutable laws of nature, and meets the season of man in every part. For example: In the American federal government, more power is delegated to the president of the United States, than to any other indivi- dual members of congress. He cannot, therefore, be elected to this office under the age of thirty-five years. By this time the judgment of man becomes matured, and he has lived long enough to become acquainted with men and things, and the country with him. But on the monarchical plan (exclusive of the num- erous chances there are against every man born in the world, of drawing a prize in the lottery of human faculties), the next in succession, whatever he may be, is put at the head of a na- tion, and of a government, at the age of eighteen years. Does this appear like an act of wisdom? Is it consistent with the proper dignity and the manly character of a nation? Where is the propriety of calling such a lad the father of the peoplet- In all other cases, a person is a minor until the age of twenty- one years. Before this period he is not trusted with the man- agement of an acre of land, or with the heritable property of a flock of sheep, or a herd of swine; but wonderful to tell! he mav at the age of eighteen years, be trusted with a nation. That monarchy is all a bubble, a mere court artifice to pro- cure money is evident (at least to me) in every character in which it can be viewed. It would be almost impossible, on the rational system of representative government, to make out a bill of expenses to such an enormous amount as this deception ad mits. Government is not of itself a very chargeable institution The whole expense of the federal government of America, founded, as I have already said, on the system of representation, and extending over a country nearly ten times as large as Eng- land, is but six hundred thousand dollars, or one hundred and thirty thousand pounds sterling. I presume that no man in his sober senses will compare the character of any of the kings of Europe with that of general Washington. Yet, in France, and also in England, the expense of the civil list only, for the support of one man, is eight times greater then the whole expenes of the federal government ot America. ‘To assign a reason for this appears almost impossi- ble. The generality of people in America, especially the poor,RIGHTS OF MAN. 367 are more able to pay taxes then the generality of people either in France or England. But the case is, that the representative system diffuses such a body of knowledge throughout the nation, on the subject of government, as to explode ignorance and preclude imposition. The craft of courts cannot be acted on that ground. ‘There is no place for mystery ; no where for it to begin, Those who are not in the repr esentation, know as much of the nature of busi- ness as those who are. An affectation of mysterious importance would there be scouted. Nations can have no secrets; and the secrets of courts, like those of individuals, are always their defects. In the representative system, the reason for everything mus publicly appear. Every man is a proprietor in poyernment and considers it a necessary part of his business to ‘understand. It concerns his interest because it affects his property. He ex amines the cost, and compares it with the advantages; and See all, he does not adopt the slavish custom of following what in other governments are called leaders. It can only be by blinding the understanding of man, and making him believe that government is some wonderful mys- terious thing, that excessive revenues are obtained. Monarchy is well calculated te ensure this end. It is the popery of gov- ernment; a thing Bee up to amuse the ignorant, and quiet them into paying taxes The government of a fr ee country, properly speaking, is not in the persons, but in the laws. The enacting of those requires no great expense; and when they are administered, the whole of civil government is performed—the rest is a/l court contriv- ance. CHAPTER IV. ON CONSTITUTIONS, T'HAT men mean distinct and separate things when they talk of constitutions and of governments, is evident; or, why are those terms distinctly and separately used? A constitution is not the act of a government, but of a people constituting a 2OV- ernment; and government without a constitution, 18 power without a right. RETIRE RE IRAE ISR IT rere Ee ee ee A5-Fty GA RE AERR EIS METRO s ee ee eeeTeseaesiedidesdeis! wlisitib engi Petts tit eral od a Tesh, € 368 RIGHTS O MAN. All power a over a nation must have some begi nning, It must be either delegated, or assumed. There are no Sther sources. . i . sei ke ‘ . federal government. After some time of public discussion, carried on through the channel of the press, and in conversa- tions, the state of Virginia, experiencing some inconvenience with respect to commerce, proposed holding a continental con- ference; in consequence of which, a deputation from five or six of the state assemblies met at Annapolis in Maryland, in 1786. This meeting, not conceiving itselt sufficiently authorized to go into the business of a reform, did no more than state their general opinions of the propriety of the measure, and recom: eee Sergei pesstseses Seas eK aN NRC TIES TN SPER eae Sed ered bneee: SHH ES LSE Sstie peTeeeadsiahadeiecisi RIGHTS OF MAN. mend that a convention of all the states should be held the year following. This convention met at Philadelphia, in May, 1787, of which General Washington was elected president. He was not at that time connected with any of the state governments, or with congress. He delivered up his commission when the war ended, and since then had lived a private citizen. The convention went deeply into all the subjects; and having, after a variety of debate and investigation, agreed among themselves upon the several parts of a federal constitution, the next question was, the manner of giving it authority and prac- tice. For this purpose, they did not, like a cabal of courtiers, send for a Dutch stadtholder, or a German elector; but they re- ferred the whole matter to the sense and interest of the country. They first directed that the proposed constitution should be published, Second, that each state should elect a convention expressly for the purpose of taking it into consideration, and ot ratifying or rejecting 1t; and that as soon as the approbation and ratification of any nine states should be given, those states should proceed to the election of their proportion of mem- bers to the new federal government; and that the operation of it should then begin, and the former federal government cease. The several states proceeded accordingly to elect their con- ventions; some of those conventions ratified the constitution -by very large majorities, and two or three unanimously. In others there were much debate and division of opinion. In the Massachusetts convention, which met at Boston, the majority was not above nineteen or twenty, in about three hundred members; but such is the nature of representative government, that it quietly decides all matters by majority. After the debate in the Massachusetts convention was closed, and the vote taken, the objecting members rose and declared, “That though they had argued and voted against rt, because certain parts appeared to them in a different light to what they appeared to other members, yet, as the vote had been decided an favor of the constitution as proposed, they should give it the same practical support as uf they had voted for vt.” As soon as nine states had concurred (and the rest followed in the order their conventions were elected), the old fabric of the federal government was taken down, and a new one erected, of which General Washington is president. In this place IRIGHTS OF MAN. 31/3 cannot help remarking that the character and services of this gentleman are sufficient to put all those men called kings to shame. While they are receiving from the sweat and labors of mankind a prodigality of pay to which neither their abilities nor their services can entitle them, he is rendering every ser- vice in his power, and refusing every pecuniary reward. He accepted no pay as commander-in-chief ; he accepts none as president of the United States. After the new federal constitution was established, the state of Pennsylvania, conceiving that some parts of its own consti- tution required to be altered, elected a convention for that purpose. The proposed alterations were published, and the people concurring therein, they were established. In forming those constitutions, or in altering them, little or no inconvenience took place. The ordinary course of things was not interrupted, and the advantages have been much. It is always the interest of a far greater number of people in a nation to have things right, than to let them remain wrong; and when public matters are open to debate, and the public judgment free, it will not decide wrong, unless it decides too hastily. In the two instances of changing the constitutions, the govern- ment then in being were not actors either way. Government has no right to make itself a party in any debate respecting the principles or modes of forming, or of changing, constitutions. [t is not for the benefit of those who exercise the powers of government, that constitutions, and the governments issuing from them, are established. In all those matters, the right of judging and acting are in those who pay, and not in those who recelve. A constitution is the property of a nation, and not of those who exercise the government. All the constitutions of America wre declared to be established on the authority of the people. m France. the word nation is used instead of the people; but in. both cases, a constitution is a thing antecedent to the govern- ment, and always distinct therefrom. In England, it is not difficult to perceive that everything has a constitution, except the nation. Every society and association that is established, first agreed upon a number of original articles. digested into form, which are its constitution. It then appointed its officers, whose powers and authorities are described in that constitution, and the government of that 4 RH NERY | as ¥ NODE TERES SPOTS Pr oe oy bah See gee ee Cet oe Se rik well ecb Ce Pra Ter ey eee eT a PRE POY wipe peas es = a + od wo Petes Heise stteie Perrrrrsy tires tes res eee edRIGHTS OF MAN. society then commenced. ‘Those officers, by whatever name they are called, have no authority to add to, alter, or abridge the original articles. It is only to the constituting power that this right belongs. From the want of understanding the difference between a constitution and a government, Dr. Johnson, and all writers of his description, have always bewildered themselves. The} could not but perceive that there must necessarily be a control- ling power somewhere, and they placed this power in the dis- eretion of the persons exercising the government, instead of placing it in a constitution formed by the nation. When it is in a constitution, it has the nation for its support, and the natural and the political controlling powers are together. The laws which are enacted by governments, control men only as individuals, but the nation, through its constitution, controls the whole government, and has a natural ability so to do. The final controlling power, therefore, and the original consti- tuting power, are one and the same power. Dr. Johnson could not have advanced such a position in any country where there was a constitution; and he is himself au evidence that no such thing as a constitution exists in England. But it may be put as a question, not improper to be investi- gated, that if a constitution does not exist, how came the idea of its existence so generally established 2 [n order to decide this question, it is necessary to consider a constitution in both its cases: Ist, as creating a government and giving it its powers: 2nd, as regulating and restraining the powers So given. If we begin with William of Normandy, we find that the government of England was originally a tyranny, founded on an invasion and conquest of the country. This being admitted, it will then appear that the exertion of the nation, at different periods, to abate that tyranny, and render it less intolerable, has been credited for a constitution. Magna Charta, as it was called (it is now like an almanac of the same date), was no more than compelling the government to renounce a part of its assumptions. It did not create and give powers to government in the manner a constitution does; but was, as far as it went, of the nature of a re-conquest, and not of a constitution; for, could the nation have totally expelled the usurpation, as France has done its despotism, it would then have had a constitution to formRIGHTS OF MAN, 37d The history of the Edwards and the Henries, and up to the commencement of the Stuarts, exhibits as many instances of tyranny as could be acted within the limits to which the nation had restricted it. The Stuarts endeavored to pass those limits, and their fate is well known. nothing of a constitution, but o power. After this, another William, descended fr and claiming from the same origin, the two evils, James and William, the nation preferred what it thought the least; since, from the circumstances, it must take one. ‘The act, called the ‘Bill of Rights, comes here into view. What it it but a bargain, which the parts of the government made with each other, to divide power, profit, and privileges ? You shall have so much, and I will have: the rest; and with respect to the nation, it said, for your share, You shall have the right of petitioning. This being the case, the bill of rights is more properly a bill of wrongs, and of insult. As to what is called the convention-parliament, it was a thing that made itself, and then made the authority by which it acted. A few persons got together, and called themselves by that name. Several of them had never been elected, and none of them for that purpose. In all those instances we see nly of restrictions on assumed om the same stock, gained possession; and of From the time of William, a species of government arose, issuing out of this coalition bill of rights; and more go, since the corruption introduced at the Hanover succession, by the agency of Walpole: that can be described by no other name th 1 a despotic legislation. Though the parts may embarrass each other, the whole has no bownds; and the only right it acknowledges out of itself, is the . cht of petitioning. Where then is the constitution that either gives or restrains power ? It is not because a part of the government is elective, that makes it less a despotism, if the persons so elected, possess afterwards, as a parliament, unlimited powers. Election, in this case, becomes separated from representation, and the can- didates are candidates for despotism. I cannot believe that any nation, reasoning on its own rights, would have thought of calling those things a constitution, if the cry of constitution had not been set up by the government. It has got into circulation like the words bore, and quiz, by being chalked u p in speeches of parliament, as those words were on window-shutters and door posts; but whatever the constitution SeadSshgt3 S547 S2Es es 3SUSe eee a Sessa See reee sme SHeFtosioses oo; rte eS tl EtUCT REC PaT ai attisee “ Til ti a) phi, Tipe PeTT EY is. 376 RIGHTS OF MAN. may be in other respects, it has undoubtedly been the most pro- ductive machine for taxation that was ever invented. The taxes in France, under the new constitution, are not quite thirteen shillings per head,* and the taxes in England, under what is called its present constitution, are forty-eight shillings and sixpence per head, men, women, and children, amounting to nearly seventeen millions sterling, besides the expense of col lection, which is upwards of a million more. In a country like England, where the whole of the civil gov- ernment is executed by the people of every town and county, by means of parish officers, magistrates, quarterly sessions, Juries, and assize, without any trouble to what is called govern- ment, or any other expense to the revenue than the salary of the judges, it is astonishing how such a mass of taxes can be employed. Not even the internal defence of the country is paid out of the revenue. On all occasions, whether real or contrived, recourse is continually had to new loans and to new taxes. No wonder, then, that a machine of government so advantageous to the advocates of a court. should be so trium- phantly extolled! No wonder that St. James’ or St. Stephen’s should echo with the continual] cry of constitution! No won- der that the French revolution should be reprobated, and the res-publica treated with reproach! The red book of England, like the red book of France, will explain the reason. t I will now, by way of relaxation, turn a thought or two to Mr. Burke. I ask his pardon for neglecting him so long. “America,” says he (in a speech on the Canada constitution bill) ), “never dreamed of such absurd doctrine as the ‘ Rights Or Wan, 7 Mr. Burke is such a | old presumer, and advances his asser- tions and ] oremises with such a dehciency of judgment, that, without troubling ourselves about principles of philosophy or * The whole amount of the assessed taxes of France, for the present year, is three hundred millions of francs, which is twelve millions and a half ster- ling; and the incidental taxes are estimated at three millions, making in the whole fifteen millions and a half: which among twenty-four millions of people, is not quite thirteen shillings per head. France has lessened her taxes since the revolution, nearly nine millions sterline annually. Before the revolution, the city of Paris paid a duty of upwards of thirty per cent. on all articles brought into the city. This tax was collected at the city gates. It was taken off on the first Of last May, and the gates taken down. + What was called the Livre rouge, or the red book, in France, was not ex- actly similar to the court calendar in England; but it suifiiciently showed how a great part of the taxes were lavished.RIGHTS OF MAN. 3t7 politics, the mere logical concl lous. For instance: i governments, as Mr. Burke asserts, are not founded on the rights of man, and are founded on any rights at all, they consequently must be founded on the rights of something that is not man. What, then, is that something ? Generally speaking, we know of no other creatures that in- habit the earth than man and beast; and in all cases, where only two things offer themselves, and one must be admitted, a negation proved on any one, amounts to an affirmative on the other; and therefore, Mr. Burke, by proving against the rights of man, proves in behalf of the beast; and consequently, proves that government is a beast: and as difficult things some- times explain each other, we now see the origin of keeping wild beasts in the Tower; for they certainly can be of no other use than to show the origin of the government. They are in the place of a constitution. O! John Bull, what honors thou hast lost by not being a wild beast. Thou mightest, on Mr. Burke's system, have been in the Tower for life. If Mr. Burke’s arguments have not weight enough to keep one serious, the fault is less mine than his; and as I am willing to make an apology to the reader for the liberty I have aken, | hope Mr. Burke will also make his for giving the cause. Having thus paid Mr. Burke the compliment of remembering him, I return to the subject. From the want of a constitution in England, to restrain and regulate the wild impulse of power, many of the laws are irra- tional and tyrannical, and the administration of them vague and problematical. The attention of the government of England (for I rather choose to call it by this name, than the English government) appears, since its political connexion with Germany, to have been so completely engrossed and absorbed by foreign affairs, and the means of raising taxes, that it seems to exist for no other purposes. Domestic concerns are neglected; and, with respect to regular law, there is scarcely such a thing. Almost every case must now be determined by some prece- dent, be that precedent good or bad, or whether it properly applies or not; and the practice has become so general, as to suggest a suspicion that it proceeds from a deeper policy than at first sight appears. : Since the revolution of America, and more so since that of usions they produce are ridicu- 4 a a * Seapets 7 Re S$SSRES 7 SQSeh RR 952 5235545 FERTILE ITE REE I TEEN MST SE RAT es cmaE ES BREE SG ReSeteesdwhesicc_y ee Sra Sov aReRERS SI oe tok See Rhee ot SFStE*GS EE RSLS OO 0 TTT OIE LL INTL NII IE STILT LI SGN ae RT Pa ek EE SPORE INES YES TA SORT RIE TETCee ae * Ge 378 RIGHTS OF MAN. France, this preaching up the doctrine of precedents, drawn from times and circumstances antecedent to those events, has been the studied practice of the English government. ‘The gener- ality of those precedents are founded on principles and opintons the reverse of what they ought to be; and the greater distance of time they are drawn from, the more they are to be suspected. But by associating those precedents with a superstitious rever- ence for ancient things, as monks show relics and call them holy, the generality of mankind are deceived into the design. Governments now act as if they were afraid to awaken a single reflection in man. They are soitly leading him to the sepulchre of precedents, to deaden his facuities and call his attention from the scene of revolutions. They feel that ‘he is arriving at knowledge faster than they wish, and their policy of precedents is the barometer of their fears. This political popery, like the ecclesiastical popery of old, has had its day, and is hastening to its exit. The ragged relic and the antiquated precedent, the monk and the monarch will moulder together. Government by precedent, without any regard to the prin- ciple of the precedent, is one of the vilest systems that can be set up. In numerous instances, the precedent ought to operate as @ warning, and not as an example, and requires to be shunned instead of imitated; but instead of this, precedents are taken in the lump and put at once for constitution and for law. Either the doctrine of precedent is policy to keep a man ina state of ignorance, or it is a practical confession that wisdom degenerates in governments as governments increase in age, and can only hobble along by the stilts and crutches of precedents. How is it that the same persons who would proudly be thought wiser than their predecessors, appear at the same time only as the ghosts of departed wisdom? How strangely is antiquity treat- ed! To answer some purposes, it is spoken of as the times of darkness and ignorance, and to answer others it is put for the light of the world. If the doctrine of precedents is to be followed, the expenses of government need not continue the same. Why pay men extravagantly who have but little to do? If everything that can happen is already in precedent, legislation is at an end, and precedent, like a dictionary, determines every case. Either, therefore, government has arrived at its dotage, and requires to be renovated, or all the occasions for exercising its wisdom have occurred.RIGHTS OF MAN, 379 We now see all over Europe, and particularly in England, the curious phenomenon of a nation looking one way and a gov- ernment the other; the one forward, and the other backward. If governments are to go on by precedent, while nations go on by improvement, they must at last come to a final separation, and the sooner, and the more civilly they determine this point, the better it will be for them.* Having thus spoken of constitutions generally, as things dis- tinct from actual governments, let us proceed to consider the parts of which a constitution is composed. Opinions differ more on this subject, than with respect to the whole. That a nation ought to havea constitution, as a rule for the conduct of its government, is a simple question in which all men, not directly courtiers, will agree. It is only on the com- ponent parts that questions and opinions multiply. But this difficulty, like every other, will diminish when put into a train of being rightly understood. The first thing is, that a nation has a right to establish a con- stitution. Whether it exercises this right in the most judicious manner at first, is quite another case. It exercises it agreeably to the judgment it possesses; and by continuing to do so, all errors will at last be exploded. When this right is established in a nation, there is no fear that it will be employed to its own injury. A nation can have no interest in being wrong. Though all the constitutions of America are on one general principle, yet no two of them are exactly alike in their compo- nent parts, or in the distribution of the powers which they give to the actual governments. Some are more and others less complex. : In forming a constitution, it is first necessary to consider what are the ends for which government is necessary: secondly, * In England, the improvements in agriculture, useful arts, manufac- tures, and commerce, have been made in opposition to the genius of its gov- ernment, which is that of following precedents. It is from the enterprise and industry of the individuals, and their numerous associations, in which, tritely speaking, government is neither pillar nor bolster, that these im- provements have proceeded. No man thought about the government, or wio was in, or who was out, when he was planning or executing those things; and all he had to hope, with respect to government, was, that it would i him alone. Three or four very silly ministerial newspapers are continually offending against the spirit of national improvement, by ascribing it to a minister. ‘They may with as much truth ascribe this book to # minister. ere rey. dstres pe ee ee os SPREE TPES PERT LRT TET TIT GI EI IE SER, GIA RETR TBS AINE OR ETPS Tae HME he380 RIGHTS OF MAN, what are the best means, and the least expensive, for accom- phshing those ends. Government is nothing more than a national association; and the object of this association is the good of all, as well indi- vidually as collectively. Every man wishes to pursue his occu- pation, and to enjoy the fruits of his labors, and the produce of his property, in peace and safety, and with the least possible expense. When these things are accomplished, all the objects for which government ought to be established are answered. [t has been customary to consider government under three distinct general heads. The legislative, the executive, and the judicial. : But if we permit our judgment to act unencumbered by the habit of multiplied terms, we can perceive no more than two divisions of power of which civil government is composed, namely, that of legislating or enacting laws, and that of execut- ing or administering them. Everything, therefore, appertain- ing to civil government, classes itself under one or other of these two divisions. So far as regards the execution of the laws, that which is called the judicial power, is strictly and properly the executive power of every country. It is that power to which every individual has an appeal, and which causes the laws to be exe- cuted; neither have we any other clear idea with respect to the official execution of the laws. In England, and also in America and France, this power begins with the magistrate, and proceeds up through all the courts of judicature. I leave to courtiers to explain what is meant by calling monarchy the executive power. It is merely a name in which acts of government are done; and any other, or none at all, would answer the same purpose. Laws have neither more nor less authority on this account. It must be from the justness of their principles, and the interest which a nation feels therein, that they derive support; if they require any other than this, it is a sign that something in the system of government is imperfect. Laws difficult to be executed cannot be generally gooiL. With respect to the organization of the legislative power, different modes have been adopted in different countries. In America it is generally composed of two houses. In France it consists of but one, but in both countries, it is wholly by representation.RIGHTS OF MAN, 381i The case is, that mankind (from the long tyranny of assumed power) have had so few opportunities of making the necessary trials on modes and principles of government, in order to dis- cover the best, that government ts but now beginning to be known, and experience 1s yet wanting to determine many particulars. The objections against two houses are, first, that there is an inconsistency in any part of a whole legislature, coming to a final determination by vote on any matter, whilst that matter, with respect to that whole, is yet only in a train of deliberation, and consequently open to new illustrations. 2nd, That by taking the vote on each as a separate body, it always admits of the possibility, and is often the case in prac- tice, that the minority governs the majority, and that, in some instances, to a great degree of inconsistency. 3rd, That two houses arbitrarily checking or controlling each other, is inconsistent; because it cannot be proved, on the principles of just representation, that either should be wiser or better than the other. They may check in the wrong as well as in the right; and, therefore, to give the power where we cannot give the wisdom to use it, nor be assured of its being rightly used, renders the hazard at least equal to the precau- tion.* The objection against a single house is, that it is always ina condition of committing itself too soon. But it should at the same time be remembered that when there is a constitution which defines the power, and establishes the principles within vhich a legislature shall act, there is already a more effectual check provided, and more powerfully operating, than any other check can be. For example. Were a bill to be brought into any of the American legis- * With respect to the two houses, of which the English parliament is com posed, they appear to be effectually influenced into one, and, as a legislature to have no temper of itsown. The minister, whoever he at any time may be. touches it as with an opium wand, and it sleeps obedience. » But if we look at the distinct abilities of the two houses, the difference will appear so great, as to show the inconsistency of placing power where there can be no certainty of the judgment to use It. Wretched as the state of representation is in England, it is manhood compared with what is called the house of lords; and so little is this nick-named house regarded, that the people scarcely inquire at any time what it is doing. Tt appears also to be most under influence, and the furthest removed from the ponenal interest of the nation. In the debate on engaging in the Russian and Turkish war, the majority in the house of peers favor of it was upwards ot ninety, when in the other house, which was more than double its numbefs, the majority was sixty-three. Pen eee ey Ppep eee ee ae i eee soe eee er ee ee SAT EL NR EEO AT a SEE Tea SEER SL IF TERT Sgreaderee+2s4 => ee SS et Ce a $= Pon by $e3te2 fi FERS EAE TIMES NTIS I RN ETE SE FTE SIS et Se ay382 RIGHTS OF MAN. latures, similar to that which was passed into an act by the Eng- lish parliament, at the commencement of the reign of George L., to extend the duration of the assemblies to a longer period than they now sit, the check is in the constitution, which in effect says, thus far shalt thow go and no farther. ‘But in order to remove the objection against a single house, (that of acting with too quick an impulse) and at the same time to avoid the inconsistencies, in some cases absurdities, arising from the two houses, the following method has been proposed as an improvement on both. Ist, To have but one representation. Qnd, To divide that representation, by lot, into two or three parts. 3rd, That every proposed bill shall first be debated in those parts, by succession, that they may become hearers of each other, but without taking any vote. After which the whole represen- tation to assemble, for a general debate and determination, by vote. To this proposed improvement, has been added another, for the purpose of keeping the representation in a state of constant renovation; which is, that one third of the representation ot each country shall go out at the expiration of one year, and the number be replaced by new elections. Another third at the expiration of the second year, replaced in like manner, and every third year to be a general election.* The proceedings on Mr. Fox’s bill, respecting the rights of juries, merits also to be noticed. The persons called the peers, were not the objects of that bill. They are already in possession of more priv- iliges than that bill gave to others. They are their own jury, and if any one of that house were prosecuted for a libel, he would not suf- fer, even upon conviction, for the first offence. Such inequality in laws ought not to exist in any country. The French constitution says, that the law is the same to every individual, whether to protect or to punish. All are equal in its right. But in whatever manner the separate parts of a constitution may be arranged, there is one general principle that distinguishes freedom from slavery, which is, that all hereditary government * As to the state of representation in England, it is too absurd to be reasoned upon. Almost all the represented parts are decreasing in population, and the unrepresented parts are increasing. A general convention of the nation is necessary to take the whole state of its government into consideration.e e RIGHTS OF MAN. 383 over &@ people ts to them a spectes of slavery, and representative government rs Jreedom. Considering government in the only light in which it should be considered, that of a NATIONAL ASSOCIATION, it ought to be 50 constructed as not to be disordered by any accident happen- ing among the parts; and therefore, no extraordinary power, capable of producing suchan effect, should be lodged in the hands of any individual. The death, sickness, absence, or defection of any one individual ina sovernment, ought to be a matter of nO More consequence, with respect to the nation, than if the same circumstance had taken place in a member of the English parliament, or the French national] assembly, Scarcely anything presents a more degr national greatness, than its being thrown into confusion by any thing happening to, or acted by an individual; and the ridicul- ousness of the scene is often increased by the natural insienifiance of the person by whom it is occasioned. Were a government so constructed, that it could not go on unless a goose or a gander were present in the senate, the difficulties would be just as creat and as real on the flight or sickness of the goose or the gander, as if they were called a king. We laugh at individuals for the silly difficulties they make to themselves, without perceiving that the greatest of all ridiculous things are acted in govern- ments. * ading character of All the constitutions of America are on a plan that excludes the childish embarrassments w hich oceur in monarchical ecoun- tries. No suspension of government can there take place for a moment, from any circumstance whatever. The system of representation provides for everything, and is the only system * It is related, that in the canton of Berne, in Switzerland, it had been cus- tomary, from time immemorial, to keep a bear at the public expense, and the people had been taught to believe, that if they had not a bear, they should all be undone. It happened some years ago, that the bear, then in being, was taken sick, and died too suddenly to have his place immediately supplied with another. During the interreznum the people discovered that the corn verew and the vintage flourished, and the sun and moon continued to rise and set, and everything went on the same as before, and, taking courage from these ej cumstances, they resolved not to keep any more bears; for, said they, a bear is a very voracious, expensive animal, and we were obliged to pull out his claws, lest he should hurt the citizens.” The story of the bear of Berne was related in some of the French newspa- pers, at the time of the flight of Louis XVI., and the application of it to mon- VvY Yy © v 4 w a ee é i 3 . L : e : : : archy could not be mistaken in France; but it seems, that the aristocracy of Berne applied it to themselves, and have since prohibited the readine of “rench newspapers, Sy SESE Pet et Pee Py hs a See ce ee eel reeet ieee re yer ee es ee eee = - SeSedmeesecy . rs pogarerestge Et desissiece xs es384 RIGHTS OF MAN. in which nations and governments can always appear in their proper character. \s extraordinary power ought not to be lodged in the hand As extraordinary power ought not to be lodged in the hands of any individual, so ought there to be no appropriations of public money to any person beyond what his services in a state — « . J may be worth. It signifies not whether a man be called a president, a king, an emperor, a senator, or by any other name which propriety or folly may devise, or arrogance assume; it is only a certain service he can perform in the state; and the service of any such individual in the routine of office, whether such office be called monarchical, presidential, senatorial, or by any other name or title, can never exceed the value of ten thousand pounds a-year. All the great services that are done in the world are performed by volunteer characters, who accept no pay for them; but the routine of office is always regulated to such a general standard of abilities as to be within the. com- pass of numbers in every country to perform, and therefore cannot merit very extraordinary recompense. ‘“‘Government,” says Swift, “es a plain thing, and fitted to the capacity of many heads.” It is inhuman to talk of a million sterling a-year, paid out of the public taxes of any country, for the support of any indi- vidual, whilst thousands, who are forced to contribute thereto, are pining with want, and struggling with misery. Govern- ment does not consist in a contrast between prisons and palaces, between poverty and pomp; itis not instituted to rob the needy of his mite, and increase the wretchedness of the wretched.— But of this part of the subject I shall speak hereafter, and con- fine myself at present to political observations. When extraordinary power and extraordinary pay are allot- ted to any individual in a government, he becomes the centre, round which every kind of corruption generates and forms. Give to any man a million a year, and add thereto the power of creating and disposing of places, at the expense of a country, and the liberties of that country are no longer secure. What is called the splendor of a throne, is no other than the corrup- tion of the state. It is made up of a band of parasites, living in luxurious indolence, out of the public taxes. When once such a vicious system is established, it becomes the guard and protection of all inferior abuses. The man who is in the receipt of a million a-year is the last person to pro- iaote a spirit of reform, lest in the event, it should reach toRIGHTS OF MAN. 385 himself. Tt is always his interest to defend inferior abuses, as so many outworks to protect the citadel ; and in this species of political fortification, all the parts have such ¢ a common dependance, that it is never to be expected they will attack each other.* Monarchy would not have continued so many ages in the world had it not been for the abuses it protects. I+ is the master fraud, which shelters all others. By admitting a par- ticipation of the spoil, it makes itself friends; and when it ceases to do this, it will cease to be the idol of courtiers. As the principle on which constitutions are now formed, rejects all hereditary pretensions to government, it also rejects all that catalogue of assumptions known by the name of pre- rogatives. If there is any government where prerogatives might with apparent safety, be intrusted to any individual, it is in the federal government of America. The president of the United States of America is elected only for four years. He is not only responsible in the general sense of the word, but a par- ticular mode is laid down in the constitution for trying him. He cannot be elected under thirty-five years of age; and he must be a native of the country. In a comparison of these cases with the government of Eng- land, the difference when applied to the latter amounts to an * It is scarcely possible to touch on any subject, that will not suggest an allusion to some corruption in governments. "The simile of ** fortifications,” unfortunately involves with it a circumstance, which is directly in point with the matter above alluded to. Among the numerous instances of abuse which have been acted or pro- tected by governments, ancient or modern, there is not a greater than that of quartering a man and his heirs upon the table, to be maintained at its expense. i Humanity dictates a provision for the poor—but by what right, moral or political, does any government assume to say, that the person called the Duke of Richmond, shall be maintained by the public yo Viet it common report is true, not a beggar in London. can purchase his wretched pittance of coal, without paying towards the civil list of the Duke of Richmond. Were the whole produce of this imposition but a shilling a-year, the iniqui- tous principle would be still the same—but when it amounts, as it is said to do, to not less than twenty thousand pounds per ann., the enormity is too serious to be permitted to remain.—This is one of the effects of monarchy and aristocracy. : ; aes this case, I am led by no personal dislike. Though I think it mean in any man to live upon the public; the vice originates in the govern- ment; and so general is it become, that whether the parties are in the ministry or in the opposition, it makes no difference, they are sure of the guarantee of each other. 20 BP fSrdegeacd YR REROR IL, EE: Preset esessSssi sees WES Kins 9 MES TT PEP th el sea ar es Settane Meteo un ok cae oS Soh ol Rae ae bes PFET EES OF TERE OF Pere Shp ete he aaa Bante cee ei tages hernia sauce renapenrens pent torsion3 ia bAL SES a oho tees hs ie eos! PETES TT 386 RIGHTS OF MAN. absurdity. In England, the person who exercises this pre- rogative is often a foreigner; always half a foreigner, and always married to a foreigner. He is never in full natural or political connexion with the country, is not responsible for anything, and becomes of age at eighteen years; yet such a person is permitted to form foreign alliances, without even the knowledge of the nation ; and to make war and peace without its consent. But this is not all. Though such a person cannot dispose of the government, in the manner of a testator, he dictates the marriage connexions, which, in effect, accomplishes a great part of the same end. He cannot directly bequeath half the govern- ment to Prussia, but he can form a marriage partnership that will produce the same effect. Under such circumstances, it is happy for England that she is not situated on the continent, or she might, like Holland, fall under the dictatorship of Prussia. Holland, by marriage, is as effectually governed by Prussia, as if the old tyranny of bequeathing the government had been the means. The presidency in America (or, as it is sometimes called, the executive), is the only office from which a foreigner is excluded; and in England, it is the only one to which he is admitted. A foreigner cannot be a member of parlament, but he may be what is called a king. If there is any reason for excluding foreigners, it ought to be from those offices where most mis- chief can be acted, and where, by uniting every bias of interest and attachment, the trust is best secured. But as nations proceed in the great business of forming con- stitutions, they will examine with more precision into the na- ture and business of that department which is called the execu- tive. What the legislative and judicial departments are, every one can see; but with respect to what, in Europe, is called the executive, as distinct from those two, it is either a political superfluity, or a chaos of unknown things. Some kind of official department, to which reports shall be made from different parts of the nation, or from abroad, to be laid before the national representatives, is all that is necessary ; but there is no consistency in calling this the executive ; neither can it be considered in any other light than as inferior to the legislature. The sovereign authority in any country is the power of making laws, and everything else is an official depart- ment.TAH ra ne r RIGHTS Ut MAN, Next to the arrangement of the principles and the organiza- tion of the severa] parts of a constitution, is i t of the person e the administration of the A nation can } the provision to be to whom the nation shall constitutional powers. lave no right to the time person at his own expense, made for the suppor confid and services of whoia it may choose to intrust in any department whatever; any reason be given for making provision for the Support of any one part of the government and not for the other. But, admitting that the honor part of a government, is to be considered a sufficient reward, it ought to be so to every person alike. legislature of any country are to that which is called the e any other name, oug] manner. It is incon- sistent to pay the one. and accept the service of the othe In America, every departme provided for; but no one is e ber of congress, and of +] ficiency for his expenses. any employ or neither can of being intrusted with any If the members of the Serve at their xecutive, whether 1t to serve in like own enpense, monarchical, or by r gratis. nt in the government is decently xtravagantly paid. Every mem- 1€ state assemblies, is allowed a suf- W hereas, in England, a most prodigal provision is made for the Support of one part of the government, and none for the other: the consequence of which is, that the one is furnished with the means of corruption, and the other is put into the condition of being corrupted. Less than a fourth part of such expenses, applied as it igs in America, would remedy a great part of the corruption. Another reform in the American constitutions is, the explod- ing all oaths of personality. The oath of allegiance is to the nation only. The putting any individual as a figure for a nation is improper. The happiness of a nation is the first object, and therefore the intention of an oath of allegiance ought not to be obscured by being figuratively taken, to, or in the name of, any person. ‘The oath, called the civie oath in France, viz., the “nation, the law, and the king,” is im- as in Ainerica, to the proper. If taken at all, it ought to be nation only. The law may or may not be good; but, in this place, it can have no other meaning, than as being conducive to the happiness of the nation. and therefore is included it it. The remainder of the oath is improper, on the ground that all personal oaths ought to be abolished. They are the remains of tyranny on one part, and slavery on the other; and the name of the Creator ought not to be introduced to witness the degrada- etry ePer Pee see ete ie hk ea ime -t ie wa = Ee | TSiSePsreeees TS OP SEMIN ENE AEE LNG TR TG RS osama Perit scere ress rs o-4 CRO se ONS RCA IGS NTN Biwletesee ss ST Sy ep pe CPT ee Ts eer eee fessisersstes ssaie ae A, JOO RIGHTS OF MAN. tion of his creation; or if taken, as is already mentioned, as ficurative of the nation, it 1s in this place redundant. But whatever apology may be made for oaths at the first establish- ment of a government, they ought not be permitted atter- wards. If a government requires the support of oaths, it is a sign that it is not worth supporting, and ought not to be sup- ported. Make government what it ought to be, and it will support itself. To conclude this part of the subject. One of the greatest im- provements that has been made for the perpetual security and progress of constitutional liberty is the provision which the new constitutions make for occasionally revising, altering and amend ing them. The principle upon which Mr. Burke formed his political creed, that “‘of binding and controlling posterity to the end of time, and renouncing and abdicating the rights of all posterity forever,” is now become too detestible to be made a subject of debate; and, therefore, I pass 1t over with no other notice than exposing it. Government is but now beginning tobe known. Hitherto it has been the mere exercise of power, which forbade all effectual inquiry into rights, and grounded itself wholly on possession. While the enemy of liberty was its judge, the progress of its principles must have been small indeed. The constitutions of America, and also that of France, have either fixed a period for their revision, or laid down the mode by which improvements shall be made. It is perhaps impossible to establish anything that combines principles with opinions and practice, which the progress of circumstances, through a length of years, will not in some measure derange, or render inconsistent; and, therefore, to prevent inconveniencies accumu- lating, till they discourage reformations or provoke revolutions, it is best to regulate them as they occur. The rights of man are the rights of all generations of men, and cannot be mon- opolized by any. That which is worth following, will be fol lowed for the sake of its worth; and it is in this that its se- curity lies, and not in any conditions with which it may be in- cumbered. When a man leaves property to his heirs, he does not connect it with an obligation that they shall accept it. Why then should we do otherwise with respect to constitutions ! The best constitution that could now be devised, consistent with the condition of the present moment, may be far short ofRIGHTS OF MAN. 589 that excellence which a few years may afford. There is a morn- ing of reason rising upon man, on the subject of government, that has not appeared before. As the barbarism of the present old governments expires, the moral condition of nations, with respect to each other, will be chan ged. Man will not be brou eht up with the savage iden of ceaeien ing his species as enemies, because the accident of birth gave the individuals existence in countries distinguished by different names; and as constitutions have always some relation to external as well as to domestic circumstances, the means of benefiting by every change, foreign or domestic, should be a part of every constitution. W e already see an alteration in the national disposition of England and France towards each other, which. when we look back only a few years, is itself a reo ee Who could have foreseen, or who would have believed, that a French naiaue! ] assembly would ever have been a popular toast in England, that a friendly alliance of the two nations should become He wish of either? It show s, that man, were he not corrupted by governments, is naturally the friend of man, and that human is not of itself vicious. That spirit of jealousy and ferocity, which the governments of the two countries inspired, and w hich they rendered subservient to the purpose of taxation, is now yielding to the dictates of reason, interest, and humanity. The trade & courts is beginning to be understood, and the affecta- tion of mystery, with all the artificial sorcery by which they imposed upon mankind, is on the decline. It has received its death wound; and though it may linger, it will expire. Government ought to be as much open to improvement as anything which appertains to man, instead of which it has been monopolized from age to age, by the most ignorant and vicious of the human race. Need weany other proof of their wretched management, than the excess of debt and taxes with which every nation groans, and the quarrels into which they have pre- cipitated the world? Just emerging from such a barbarous condition, it is too soon to determine to what extent of improvement government may yet be carried. For what we can foresee, all Europe may form but one grand republic, and man be free of the whole. SONG Ah ROSA PUT eee SS g22. +Rteaszese 4 re er) ‘Sigtasges ees? +3474 SPE ee ree Te Tee ey390 RiGHIs OF MAN. CHAPTER NV. WAYS AND MEANS OF IMPROVING THE CONDITION OF EUROPE, INTERSPERSED WITH MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. In contemplating a subject that embraces with equatoria magnitude the whole region of humanity, it is impossible to contine the pursuit in any one single direc ‘tion. It takes ground on every character and condition that appertains to man, and blends the individual, the nation, and the world. From a small spark, kindled in America, a ts ame has arisen, not to be extinguished. Without consuming, like the ultimo ratio regum, it winds its progress from né ition to nation, and conquers by a silent operation. Man finds himse 1f changed, he scarcely perceives how. He acquires a knowledge of his rights by attending justly to his interest, and discovers in the event, that the strength and powers of despotism consist wholly in the fear of resisting it, and that, in order “‘to de free, vt vs sw/ ficient that he w ills at:” Having in all the preceding parts of this work endeavored t establish a system of principles as a basis on which government: ought to be erected, shall proceed in this, to the ways and means of rendering them into practise. But in order to intro duce this part of the subject with more propriety and stronger effect, some preliminary observations, deducible from, or con nected with those principles, are necessary. Whatever the form or constitution of government may be, it ought to have no other object than the general happiness. When, instead of this, it operates to create and increase wretchedness in any of the parts of society, it is on a wrong system, and re formation is necessary. Customary language has classed the condition of man unde: the two descriptio ms of civilized and uncivilized life. To the one it has ascr ibed felicity and affluence; co the other, hardship and want. But, however our imagination may be impressed by painting and comparison, it is nevertheless true, that a great portion of mankind, in what are called civilized countries, are in a@ state of poverty and wretchedness, far below the conditionRIGHTS OF MAN. 391 of an Indian. I speak not of one country, but of all. *It is so ii England, it is so all over Europe. Let us inquire into the CAUSE. [t les not in any natural defect in the principles of civiliza- tion, but in preventing those principles having an universal operation; the consequence of which is, a perpetual system of war and expense, that drains the country and defeats the gen- eral felicity of which civilization is capable. All the European governments (France now excepted), are constructed not on the principle of universal civilization, but on the reverse of it. So far as those governments relate to each other, they are in the same condition as we conceive of savage uncivilized life; they put themselves beyond the law, as well of God as of man, and are, with respect to principle and reciprocal conduct, like so many individuals in a state of nature. The inhabitants of every country, under the civilization of laws, easily associate together; but governments being in an uncivilized state, and almost continually at war, they pervert the abundance which civilized life produces. to carry on the uncivilized part to a greater extent. By thus ingrafting the barbarism of government upon the internal civilization of the country, it draws from the latter, and more especially from the poor, a great portion of those earnings which should be applied to their subsistence and comfort. Apart from all reflections of morality and philosophy, it is a melancholy fact, that more than one-fourth of the labor of mankind is annually consumed by this barbarous system. What has served to continue this evil, is the pecuniary advantage, which all the governments of Europe have found in keeping up this state of uncivilization. It affords to them pre- cences for power and revenue, for which there would be neither oceasion nor apology, if the circle of civilisation were rendered complete. Civil government alone, or the government of laws, is not productive of pretences for many taxes; it operates at home, directly under the eye of the country, and precludes the possibility of much imposition. But when the scene is laid on the uncivilised contention of governments, the field of pretences is enlarged, and the country, being no longer a judge, is open to every imposition which governments please to act. Not a thirtieth, scarcely a fortieth part of the taxes which are raised in England, are either occasioned by, or applied to the purposes of civil government. It is not difficult to see that Sl Ssged cdr Pssfsssisessi se SE TREE 8 SITIES EA ee . TSUNA ATER Poster ere ere rt oper EO ERT TE ret RTE LP FOGLE RE we TRE ELT Pr sestkss aeean oe eee eee ee Ee ——)ge%2" Porter tr titeie hie 392 RIGHTS OF MAN, the whole which the actual government does in this respect, 1S to enact laws, and that the country administers and executes them, at its own expense, by means of magistrates, juries, ses- sions, and assize, over and above the taxes which it pays. In this view of the case, we have two distinct characters of government; the one, the civil government, or the government of laws, which operates at home; the other, the court or cabinet government, which operates abroad on the rude plan of un civilized life; the one attended with little charge, the other with boundless extravagance; and so distinct are the two, that if the latter were to sink, as it were by asudden ORE Ine af the earth, and totally disappear, the former would not be deranged. It would still proceed, | because it is the common interest Of the: nation that it should, and all the means are in practice. Xevolutions, then, have for their object, a change in the moral condition of governments, and with this change the bur- den of public taxes will lessen, and civilization will be left to the enjoyment of that abundance, of which it is now deprived. In contemplating the whole of this subject, I extend my views into the department of commerce. In all my publications, where the matter would admit, [ have been an advocate for commerce, because I am a friend to its effects. It is a pacific system, operating to unite mankind, by rendering nations, as well as individuals, useful to each other. As to a mere theo retical reformation, I have never preached it up. The most effectual process is that of Improving the condition of man by means of his interest; and it is on this ground that I take my stand. If commerce were permitted to act to the universal extent it is capable of, it would extirpate the system of war, and produce a revolution in the uncivilised state of governments. The inven tion of commerce has arisen since those governments began, and is the greatest a roach towards universal civilization, that has yet been made | xy any means not immediately flowing from moral principles. Whatever has a tendency to promote the civil intercourse of nations, by an exchange of benetit ts, is a subject as worthy o philosophy as of politics. Commerce is no other than the tr: a of two persons, multiplied on a scale of numbers; and by the same rule that nature intended the intercourse of two, she i in tended that of all. For this purpose she has distribute d the materials of manufactures and commerce, in various and distantRIGHTS OF parts of a nation and of the world; MAN. 393 and as they cannot be pro- ‘ured by war so cheaply or so commodiously as by commerce, she has rendered the latter the means of extirpating the former. As the two are nearly the opposites of each other, conse- quently, the uncivilised state of European governments is in- Jurious to commerce. Every kind of destruction or embarrass- ment serves to lessen the quantity, and it matters but little in what part of the commercial world the reduction begins. Like blood, it cannot be taken from any of the parts, without being taken from the whole mass in circulation, and all partake of the loss. When the ability in any nation to buy is destroyed, it equally involves the seller. Could the government of England destroy the commerce of all other nations, she would most effec- tually ruin her own. It is possible that a nation may be the carrier for the world, but she cannot be the merchant. She cannot be the seller and the buyer of her own merchandise. The ability to buy must reside out of herself; and, therefore, the prosperity of any com- mercial nation is regulated by the prosperity of the rest. If they are poor, she cannot be rich; and her condition, be it what it may, is an index of the height of the commercial tide in other nations. That the principles of commerce, and its universal operation may be understood, without understanding the practice, is a position that reason will not deny; and it is on this ground only that I argue the subject. house, in the world it is another. It is one thing in the counting- With reswect to its opera- tion, it must necessarily be contemplated as a reciprocal thing, that only one half its powers resides within the nation, and that the whole is as effectually destroyed by cestrowing the half that resides without, as if the destruction had been committed on that which is within, for neither can act without the other. When in the last, as well as in the former wars, the com- merce of England sunk, it was because the general quantity was lessened everywhere; and it now rises because commerce is in a rising state in every nation. If England, at this day, im- ports and exports more than at any other period, the nations with which she trades must necessarily do the same; her im- ports are their exports, and vice versa. ' There can be no such thing as a nation flourishing alone in commerce; she can only participate; and the destruction of it in any part must necessarily affect all. When, therefore, gov- AS IRS SOTA BAB EE EMA NG BITE RI BO AH EONS RET ORES ee toto e rer etry eeeatsese3 A a ee ke oS rt tS oes Guseessss ee TestaeS cea hesTrice ta eat hi att | eed sie DOE 394 RIGHTS OF MAN. ernments are at war, the attack is made upon the common stock of commerce, and the consequence is the same as if each had attacked his own. The present increase of commerce is not to be attributed to ministers, or to any political contrivances, but to its own natu- ral operations in consequence of peace. The regular markets had been destroyed, the channels of trade broken up, and the high road of the seas infested with robbers of every nation, and the attention of the world called to other objects. Those inter- ruptions have ceased, and peace has restored the deranged con- dition of things to their proper order. * It is worth remarking, that every nation reckons the balance of trade in its own favor; and therefore something must be irregular in the common ideas upon this subject. The fact, however is true, according to what is called a bal- ance; and it is from this cause that commerce is universally supported. Every nation feels the advantage, or it would abandon the practice: but the deception lies in the mode of making up the accounts, and attributing what are called profits to a wrong cause. Mr. Pitt has sometimes amused himself by showing what he called a balance of trade from the custom-house books. This mode of calculation not only affords no rule that is true, but one that is false. In the first place, every cargo that departs from the custom- house, appears on the books as an export; and according to the custom-house balances, the losses at sea, and by foreign failures, are all reckoned on the side of the profit, because they appear as exports. Second, Because the importation by the smuggling trade does not appear on the custom-house books, to arrange against the exports. No balance, therefore, as applying to superior advantages, can be drawn from these documents; and if we examine the natural operation of commerce, the idea is fallacious; and if * In America the increase of commerce is greater in proportion than in England. It is, at this time, at least one half more than at anv period prior to the revolution. The greatest number of vessels cleared out of the port of Philadelphia, before the commencement of the war, was between eight and nine hundred. In the year 1788, the number was upwards of twelve hun- dred. As the state of Pennsylvania is estimated as an eichth part of the United States in population, the whole number of vessels must now be nearly ten thousand.RIGHTS OF MAN, 395 G true, would soon be injurious. consists in the balance being a | tions. Two merchants of different nations trading together will both become rich, and each make the balance in his own favor; con- sequently they do not get rich out of each othér: and it is the same with respect to the nations in which they reside. The case must be, that each nation must get rich out of its own means, and increase that riches by something w from another in exchange. If a merchant in England sends an article of English manu- facture abroad which costs him a shilling at home, and imports something which sells for two, he makes a balance of one shill- ing in his own favor: but this is not gained out of the foreign nation, or the foreign merchant, for he also does the same by the article he receives, and neither has a balance of advantage upon the other. The original value of the two articles in their proper countries were but two shillings; but by changing their places they acquire a new idea of value, equal to double what they had at first, and that increased value is equally divided. There is no otherwise a balance on foreign than on domestic commerce. The merchants of London and Newcastle trade on the same principle, as if they resided in different nations, and make their balances in the same manner; yet London does not get rich out of Newcastle any more than Newcastle out of London; but coals, the merchandize of Newcastle, have an additional value at London, and London merchandize has the same at Newcastle. Though the principle of all commerce is the same, the domes- tic, in a national view, is the part the most beneficial ; because the whole of the advantages, on both sides, rest within the nation; whereas, in foreign commerce, it is only a participation of one halt. : The most unprofitable of all commerce, is that connected with foreign dominion. ‘To a few individuals it may be bene- ficial, merely because it is commerce: but to the nation it is a loss. The expense of maintaining dominion more than absorbs the profits of any trade. It does not increase the general quan- tity in the world, but operates to lessen it; and as a greater mass would be afloat by relinquishing dominion, the participa- tion without the expense would be more valuable than a greater quantity with it. The great support of commerce evel of benefits among all na- hich it procures DRT AMEE es cere e Terese tere PESTLE Ae ORO ey e355 AS cot edTrirtre rates eile. rpaeteigigieel tReet etrety TET 3 SiLLitt a Tk 396 RIGHTS OF MAN. But it is impossible to engross commerce by dominion; and therefore it is still more fallacious. It cannot exist in confined channels, and necessarily breaks out by regular or irregular means that defeat the attempt, and to succeed would be still worse. France, since the revolution, has been more than in- different as to foreign possessions; and other natiéns will be. come the same when they investigate the subject with respect to commerce, To the expense of dominion is to be added that of navies, and when the amount of the two is subtracted from the profits of commerce, it will appear, that what is called the balance of trade, even admitting it to exist, is not enjoyed by the nation, but absorbed by the government. The idea of having navies for the protection of commerce is delusive. It is putting the means of destruction fot the means of protection. Commerce needs no other protection than the reciprocal interest which every nation feels in supporting it—it is common stock—it exists by a balance of advantages to all; and the only interruption it meets, is from the present uncivil- ized state of governments, and which is its common interest to reform. * Quitting this subject, I now proceed to other matters.——As it is necessary to include England in the prospect of a general reformation, it is proper to inquire into the defects of its gov- ernment. Itis only by each nation reforming its own, that the whole can be improved, and the full benefit of reformation en- joyed. Only partial advantages can flow from partial reforms. France and England are the only two countries in Europe where a reformation in government could have successfully begun. The one secure by the ocean, and the other by the im- mensity of its internal strength, could defy the malignancy of foreign despotism. But it is with revolutions as with commerce, the advantages increase by their becoming general, and double to eithes what each would receive alone. As a new system is now opening to the view of the world, the European courts are plotting to counteract it. Alliances, con- trary to all former systems, are agitating, and a common inter- * When I saw Mr. Pitt’s mode of estimating the balance of trade, in one of his parliamentary speeches, he appeared to me to know nothing of the nature and interests of commerce; and no man has more wantonly tortured it than himself. During a period of peace, it has been shackled with the calamities of war. Three times has it been thrown into stagnation, and the vessels unmanned by impressing, within less than four years of peace.RIGHTS OF MAN. 397 est of courts is forming against the common interest of man. "he combination draws a line that runs throughout Europe, and presents a, case so entirely new, as to exclude all calcula- tions from former circumstances. While despotism warred with despotism, man had no interest in the contest; but in a cause that unites the soldier with the citizen, and nation with nation, the despotism of courts, though it feels the danger and meditates revenge, is afraid to strike. No question has arisen within the records of history that pressed with the importance of the present. 1t is not whether this or that party shall be in or out, or whig or tory, or high or low shall prevail; but whether man shall inherit his rights, and universal civilization take place?—Whether the fruits of his labor shall be enjoyed by himself, or consumed by the profli- gacy of governments!—Whether robbery shall be banished from courts, and wretchedness from countries? When, in countries that are called civilized, we see age going to the work-house and youth to the gallows, something must be wrong in the system of government. It would seem, by the exterior appearance of such countries, that all was happiness; hut there lies hidden from the eye of common observation, a mass of wretchedness that has scarcely any other chance than to expire in poverty or infamy. Its entrance into life is marked with the presage of its fate; anc until this is remedied it is in vain to punish. Civil government does not exist by executions; but in mak- ing that provision for the instruction of youth, and the support of age, as to exclude, as much as possible, profligacy from the one, and despair from the other. Instead of this, the resources of a country are lavished upon kings, upon courts, upon hire- lings, imposters and prostitutes; and even the poor themselves, with all their wants upon them, are compelled to support the fraud that oppresses them. Why is it that scarcely any are executed but the poor? The fact is a proof, among other things, of a wretchedness in their condition Bred up without morals, and cast upon the world without a prospect, they are the exposed sacrifice of vice and legal barbarity. The millions that are superfluously wasted upon governments are more than sufficient to reform those evils, and to benefit the condition of every man in a nation, not included in the purlieus of a court. This I hope to make appear in the progress of this work. 2 SL ET WM SE ETAT ROT EO TI ee chbizagadensgss Sssizk se: ee Sears ee eek i EEL PRINGLE CPE REE S LE Ohi, IIT See eae dmeeo ess Vf Ses tLe =F EYL Tet es SsAGSEAEN ESete” " ericiei cit baer a tasty § ere Pore) 398 RIGHTS OF MAN. It is the nature of compassion to associate with misfortune. In taking up this subject, | seek no recompense—lI fear no con- sequences. Fortified with that proud integrity that disdain: to triumph or to yield, I will advocate the rights of man. At an early period, little more than sixteen years of age, raw and adventurous, and heated with the false heroism of a master* who had served in a man of war, I began the carver of my own: fortune, and entered on board the privateer Ter. rible, captain Death. From this adventure I was happily pre vented by the affectionate and moral remonstrance of a good father, who, from his own habits of life, being of the Quaker profession, must have begun to look upon me as lost. But the impression, much as it effected at the time, began to wear away, and J entered afterwards in the privateer, King of Prussia. captain Mendez, and went in her to sea. shat from such a beginning, and with all the inconveniences of early life against ne I am proud to say, that with a pee ore ae undismay ed by ‘digae ulties, a disinterestedness that compe 1s respect, I have not only contributed to raise a new empire in the world, founded on a new system of government, but I have arrived at an eminence in politic al liter ‘ature, the most difficult of all lines to succeed and excel in, which aristocracy, with all its aids, has not been able to reach or to rival. Knowing my own heart, and feeling myself, as I now do, superior to all the skirmish of party, the inveteracy of interested or mistaken opponents, I answer not to falsehood or abuse, but Proceed to the defects of the English Government. t t] Rev. William Orne ite master of me grammar SENN at "Thetford. Norfolk. + Politics and self-interest have been so uniformly connected, that th« world, from being so often deceived, has a right to be suspicious of publi characters; but with regard to myself, I am perfe sctly easy on this head. | did not, at my first setting out in public life ne arly seventeen years ago, turn my th oughts to subjects of government from motives of interest—and my conduct from that moment to this, proves the fact. 1 saw an oppor- tunity in which I thought I could do some good, and I followed exactly what my heart dictated. I neither read books, nor studied other people’s opinions. I thought for myself. The case was this: During the suspension of the old governments in America, both before and at the breaking out of hostilities, I was struck with the order and de- corum with which everything was conducted; and impressed with the idea that a little more than what society naturally performed was all the govern- ment that was necessary, and that monarchy and aristocr acy were frauds and impositions upon mankind. On these principles I published the pamph- let ‘‘Common Gense.” The success it met with was beyond anything since “he invention of printing I gave to every state in the unionRIGHTS OF MAN. 399 { begin with charters and corporations. [t is a perversion of terms to say that a charter gives richts. v e S lt operates by a contrary effect, that of taking rights away. und the demand ran to not less than one hundred thousand copies. I con- tinued the subject in the same manner, under the title of ‘‘The Crisis,” till the complete establishment of the revolution. After the declaration of independence, congress, unanimously and un- known to me, appointed me secretary in the foreign department. This was agreeable to me, because it gave me an opportunity of seeing into the abilities of foreign courts, and their manner of doing business. But a mis- understanding arising between congress and me, respecting one of their commissioners, then in Europe, Mr. Silas Deane, I resigned the ottice. When the war ended, I went from Philadelphia to Bordentown, on the east bank of the Delaware, where I have a small place. Congress was at this time at Princeton, fifteen miles distant; and General Washington’s head-quarters were at Rocky-Hill, within the neighborhood of congress, for the purpose of resigning his commission (the object for which he accepted it being accomplished) and of retiring to private life. While he was on this basiness, he wrote me the letter which I here subjoin. LooKY Hitu, Sept. 10, 1783. { have learned since I have been at this place, that you are at Borden- town. Whether for the sake of retirement or economy, I know not. Be it for either, for both, or whatever it may, if you will come to this place and partake with me, I shall be exceedingly happy to see you. 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, sub- scribes himself, Your sincere friend, G. WASHINGTON. During the war, in the latter end of the year 1780, I formed to myself the design of coming over to England, and communicated it to General Greene, who was then in Philadelphia, on his route to the southward, General Washington being then at too great a distance to communicate with imme- diately. was strongly impressed with the idea that if I could get over to England, without being known, and only remain in safety till I could get out a publication, I could open the eyes of the country with respect to the madness and stupidity of its government. I saw that the parties in parlia- ment had pitted themselves as far as they could go, and could make no new impressions on each other. General Greene entered fully into my views, but the affair of Arnold-and Andre happening just after, he changed his mind, and, under strong apprehensions for my safety, wrote to me very pressingly from Annapolis, in Maryland, to give up the design, which, with some reluctance, [ did. Soon after this I accompanied Colonel Laurens (son of Mr. Laurens, who was then in the Tower) to F rance, on business from congress. We landed at l’Orient, and while I remained there, he be- ing gone forward, a circumstance occurred that renewed my former design. An English packet from Falmouth to New York, with gt vernment de- spatches on board, was brought into l’Orient. That a packet should be taken, is no very extraordinary thing; but that the despatches should be taken with it will scarcely be credited, as they are always slung at the LEER ee SRR LTTORE Rar ORENNTE Re a ioe ese te esde hese = co bs as oar = eeMTT LSP AT AGLI | ea eee steer: epaulas PS Pt oe 400 RIGHTS OF MAN, Rights are inherently in all the inhabitants; but charters, by annulling those rights in the majority, leave the right, by ex- clusion, in the hands of a few. If charters were constructed so as to express in direct terms, “that every inhabitant, who is not a member of a corporatiwn, shall not exercise the right of voting,” such charters would in the face be charters, not of rights, but of exclusion. The effect is the same under the form they now stand; and the only persons on whom they operate are the persons whom they exclude. Those whose rights are guaranteed, by not being taken away, exercise no other rights than as members of the community they are en- titled to without a charter; and therefore, all charters have no other than an indirect negative operation. They do not ceive rights to A, but they make a difference in favor of A, by taking away the rights of B, and consequently are instruments of injustice. But charters and corporations have a more extensive evil ef- fect than what relates merely to elections. They are sources of endless contention in the places where they exist; and they lessen the common rights of national society. A native of Eng- land, under the operations of these charters and corporations. cannot be said to be an Englishman in the full sense of the word, He is not free of the nation, in the same manner that a French. man is free of France, and an American of America. His rights are circumscribed to the town, and, in some cases, to the parish of his birth; and in all other parts, though in his native land, he must undergo a local naturalization by purchase, or he is for- bidden or expelled the place. This species of feudality is kept cabin window, in a bag loaded with cannon ball, and ready to be sunk in a moment. The fact, however, is as I have stated it, for the despatches came into my hands, andI read them. Thecapture, as I was informed, succeeded by the following stratagem :—the captain of the privateer Jfadame, who spoke English, on coming up with the packet, passed himself for the captain of an English frigate, and invited the captain of the packet on board, which, when done, he sent some of his hands and secured the mail. But be the circumstances of the capture what they may, I speak with certainty as to the despatches. They were sent up to Paris, to count Vergennes, and when Colonel Laurens and myself returned to America, we took the originals to congress. By these despatches I saw further into the stupidity of the English cabines than I otherwise could have done, and I renewed my former design. But Colonel Laurens was so unwilling to return alone, more especially, as among other matters, he had a charge of upwards of two hundred thousand pound. sterling in money, that I gave in to his wishes, and finally gaye up my plant But J am now certain, that if I could have executed it, it would not have been altogether unsuccessful.RIGHTS OF MAN. 40] p to aggrandize the corporations to the ruin of the towns; and tect is visible. e generality of cory poration towns are in a state of solitary L\eCay, and fe evented from further ruin only by some circum: ances in their s! eon such as a navigable river, or 2 plenti- fall surrounding country. ie DoD ae is one of the chief sources of wealth (for without it land itself has no value), every- hing which operates to prevent it must lessen the value of pro rty; and as corporations have not only this tendency, but directly this effect, they cannot but be injurious. If any pol- icy were to be to lowed, inste ad of that Or § veneral tr (Ce clom, to ‘very person to settie Ww here he chose (as in At nerica), it would be more consistant to give ae nent to new ee ib; a eatin ee Sat METS, then to preclude then admission r premiunis rrom the 7m. OR ge ee se arcade Se ees Eel tte d in the abolition of The persons most immediately interested in the aoolition of A v fa tea Sierras rations are the inhabitants A the towns where corpora- 1 tl G tions are establi The instances of Manc ter, Bir ming- ah ham, and Sheffield, w, by contrast, the injury which those ‘othie institutions are to property and commerce. A few ex- } eC 7 1 i Rae Pe eee Si eoeeerg ey aed LIN Pies may be found, such as that of London, whose natural the volitic Ad Pp . ! é i . See AEP ee und commercial advantages, owing to its situation on the hames, is capable of bearing up against al evils of a corpor- ation; but in almost all other cases tie “fat tality is too visible to A be doubted or denied. Though the whole nation is not so directly affected by the de- pri ssion of property in corporation towns as the inhabitants themselves, it partakes of the consequene. By lessening the value of property, the a of national commerce 1s cur- tailed. Every man is a customer in proportion to his ability ; id as all Batis OF a nation trade v vith anche whatever affects any of the parts, must ects communicate to the whole. * Tt is difficult to account for the origin of charter and corporation towns, suppose them to HONE arisen out of, or having been connected with unless wé some species of garrison services. The times in which they began justify this idea The ge nerality of those towns have been garrisons, and the cor- por: Hous were charged with the care of the gates of the towns, when no ynilitary garrison was present. Their refusing or granting a liaission to strangers, which has edad ed the custom of giving, sellin: g, and buying free- dom, has more of the: page of garrison authority than civil government. Soldiers are free of all corpor: ations throughout the nation, by the same pro- priety that every soldier is free of every garrison, and no ‘other persons are. He can follow any employment, with the permission of his officers, in any ‘poration town ‘throughout the nation. Coil =} 26402 RIGHTS OF MAN. As one of the houses of the English parliament is, in a great measure, made up by elections from these corporations; and as it is unnatural that a pure stream would flow from a foul fountain, its vices are but a continuation of the vices of its origin. A man of moral honor and good political principals, cannot sub- mit to the mean drudgery and disgraceful arts, by which such elections are carried. To be a successful candidate, he must be destitute of the qualities that constitute a just legislator: aad being thus disciplined to corruption by the mode of entering into parliament, it is not to be expected that the representative should be better than the man. Mr Burke, in speaking of the English representation, has ad- vanced as bold a challenge as ever was given in the days of chiv- alry. ‘Our representation,” says he, ‘‘ has been found perfectly adequate to dil the pwrposes for which a representation of the people can be desired or devised. I defy,” continues he, ‘the enemies of our constitution to show the contrary.” ‘This declar- ation from a man, who has been in constant opposition to all the measures of parliament the whole of his political life, a year or two excepted, is most extraordinary, and, comparing him with himself, admits of no other alternative, than that he acted against his judgment as a member, or has declared contrary to it as an author. But it is not in the representation only that the defects li, and therefore I proceed in the next place to aristocracy. What is called the house of peers is constituted on a ground very similar to that against which there is a law in other cases. {t amounts to a combination of persons in one common interest. No reason can be given why a house of legislation should be composed entirely of men whose occupation consists in letting landed property, than why it should be composed of those who hire, or of brewers, or bakers, or any other separate class of men. Mr. Burke calls this house, “the great ground and pillar of security to the landed interest.” Let us examine this idea. What pillar of security does the landed interest require, more than any other interest in the state, or what right has it to a distinct representation from the general interest of a nation? The only uge to be made of this power (and which it has always made) is to ward off taxes from itself, and throw the burden upon such articles of consumption by which itself would be least affected.RIGHTS OF MAN. 405 That this has been the consequence (and will always be the consequence of constructing governments on combinations) is evident, with respect to England, from the history of its taxes. Notwithstanding taxes have increased and mutipled upon every article of common consumption, the land tax, which more particularly affects this “pillar,” has diminished. In 1 } 1788, the amount of the land-tax was £1,950,000, which is half a million less than it produced almost a hundred years ago, notwithstanding the rentals are in many instances doubled since that period. Before the coming of the Hanoverians, the taxes were divided in nearly equal proportions between the land and articles of consumption, the land bearing rather the largest share; but since that era, nearly thirteen millions annually of new taxes have been thrown upon consumption. The consequence of which has been a constant increase in the number and wretchedness of the poor, and in the amount of the poor-rates. Yet here again the burden does not fall in equal proportion on the aristocracy with the rest of the community. Their resi- dences, whether in town or country, are not mixed with the habitations of the poor.—They live apart from distress, and the expense of relieving it. It is in manufacturing towns and laboring villages that those burthens press the heaviest; in many of which it is one class of poor supporting another. Several of the most heavy and productive taxes are so con- trived, as to give an exemption to this pillar, thus standing in its own defence. The tax upon beer brewed for sale does not affect the aristocracy, who brew their own beer free of this duty. It falls only on those who have not convenience or ability to brew, and who must purchase it in small quantities. But what will mankind think of the justice of taxation, when they know, that this tax alone, from which the aristocracy are from circumstances exempt, is nearly equal to the whole of the land-tax, being in the year 1788, and it is not less now, £1,666, - 152, and with its proportion of the taxes on malt and hops, it exceeds it. That a single article thus partially consumed, and that chiefly by the working part, should be subject to a tax equal to that on the whole rental of a nation, is, perhaps, a fact not to be paralleled in the history of revenues, This is one of the consequences resulting from a house of leg- islation, composed on the ground of a combination of commen Pe A TNR PETE OT ITSO TENT A a OT POT RI séet4etst ee Pr ad ae ee Shy ee‘? | AT hTare, . * a oa te ee usted. 234 Pere t! a y - SSPE SEPA RE DE PE EL, Pettit rao aad a) 404 RIGHT: - for whatever their separate politics as to parties may in this they are united. Whether a combination acts to be, 1 raise the price of an article for sale, or the rate of wages; 01 whether it acts to throw taxes from itself upon another class of the community, the principle and the effect are the same: and if the one be illegal, it will be difficult to show that the other ought to exist [t is no use to say, that taxes are first proposed in the hous or COMMONS , use has always a negative, it can always defend 1 it would be ee eue to suppose that its acquiesen easures to be proposed were not inderstood beforehand. Besides which, it fae obtained so much fluence by bot nd so many of its relations and Eee esate both sides of the commons, as to give : > ative in the house, a preponder- 21) ¢ ] pne I ers of oe eoncern. [ is difficult to discover what is meant vy the landed interest ud 1 = yrs 1 Cog . Tle ] hAantwK if it does not mean @ cOMbD1INat1on OF aristoc cratic: al lan 1d-holders, nterest to that of the farmer, 4 pw pecun lat ny trade, commerce, and manufacture. In all he only interest that needs no ahr al pro- i ceneral protection of the worl: 1. Every opposing th elr own and every branch of other respects, Teas % tection. It enjoy s the g individual, high or low, is interested in the fruits of the earth, men, women and children, of all ages and degrees, will turn out to assist the farmer, rather than a harvest should not be got in; and they will not act thus by any other property. It is the only one for which the common prayer of mankind is put up, and the only one that can never fail from the want of means. It is the interest, not of the policy, but of the existence of man, and when it ceases, he must cease to be. No other interest in a nation stands on the same united sup- port. Commerce, manufactures, arts, sciences, and everything else, compared with this are supported but in parts. Their prosperity or their decay has not the same universal influence. When the valleys laugh and sing, it is not the farmer only, but all creation that rejoices. It is a pros sperity y that ex xcludes all envy; and this cannot be said of clea ti ing else. Why then does Mr. Burke talk of his house of peers, as the pillar of the landed interest! Were that pillar to sink into the earth, the same landed proj erty would continue, and the same plowing, sowing, and reaping would go on. The aristo- cracy are not the farmers who work the land, and raise thieRIGHTS OF MAN. ADS produce, but are the mere consumers of the rent; and when compared with the active world, are the drones, a seraglio of males, who neither aie ‘t the honey nor form the hive, but exist only we lazy enjoyment. Mr. Burke, in his first essay, called aristocracy, “the corinth- can capital of polished society.” Towards completing the figure, he has now added d the pillar, but still the base is wanting ; and whenever the nation chooses to act a Samson, not a blind, but bold, down goes the Temple of Dagon, the lords and the Philis- VIResS. If a house of legislation is to be composed of men of one class, for the purpose of protecting a distinct interest, all the other interests should have the same. The inequality as well as the burden of taxation, arises from admitting it in one case and not inal]. Had there been a house of farmers, there had been no game laws; or a house of merchants and manufacturers, the taxes had neither been so unequi al nor so excessive. Itis from the power of taxation being in the hands of those who can throw so great a part of it from their own shoulders, that it has raged without a check. Men of small or moderate estates, are more injured by the taxes being thrown on articles of consumption, than they are eased by warding it from landed property, for the following reasons: lst, They consume more of the productive taxable articles, in proportion to their prope rty, than those of large estates. 2nd, Their residence is chiefly in towns, and their property in houses; and the increase of the poor-rates, occasioned by taxes on consumption, is in much greater proportion than the land-tax has been favored. In Birmingham the _poort rates are not less than seven shillings in the pound. From this, as is already observed, the aristocracy are in a great measure exempt. The se are buta pi art of the mischiefs flowing f from the wretched scheme of a house of peers. Ag a combination, it can always throw a considerable portion of taxes ee itse If: as an hereditary house, accountable to no- body. it resembles a rotten borough, whose consent is to be peiod by interest. There are but few of its members who are not in some mode or other participators or disposers of the public money. One turns a candle-holder or a lord-in-waiting; another a lord of the bed-chamber. a groom of the stole, or any ay <= ret} ee ot eee eed AERA TABOR REET RET TANT SP PR Steagsseesseses Sig ere Pee pre er rt ee EFL TRE OT TLL TN SONI TES TILE Ts EP a SS EL Te ae ees SG sedges tsr Sete esse we se TS FEETri tri eai rare ati rer od RIGHTS OF MAN. insignificant nominal office, to which a salary is annexed, paid out ‘of + the public taxes, Baa which avoids the direct appearance of corruption. Such situations are derogatory to the character of a man; and where they can be submitted t¢ 9, honor cannot reside. To all these are te be added the numerous dependants, the long list of the younger branc hes and distant relations, who are to be provided for at the public expense: in short, were an estima- tion to be made of the charge of the aristocracy to a ni ution, it will be found nearly equal to that of supporting the poor. The Duke of Richmond alone (and there are cases similar to his) takes away as much for himself as would maintain two thou sand poor and aged persons. Isit, then, any wonder that under cdeh a system of government, taxes and rates have multiplied to their present ont ? In stating these matters, I speak an open and disinterested language, dictated by no passion but that of humanity. To me, Ww Ap Haus not only refused offers because I thought them im- proper, but have declined rewards I might with reputation have accepted, it is no wonder that meanness and imposition appear disgusting. Independence is my happiness, and I view things as they are, without regard to place or person; my country is the world, and my religion is to do good. Mr. Burke, in speaking of the aristocratical law of primogeni- ture, says, “It is the standard lay of our landed inheritance; and which, without question, has a tendency, and I think,” continues he, ‘‘a happy tendency, to preserve a character of weight and consequence.” My. Burke may call this law what he pleases, but humanity and impartial reflection will pronounce it a law of brutal in- justice. Were we not accustomed to the daily practice, and did we only hear of it as the law of some distant part of the world, we should conclude that the legislators of such countries had not arrived at a state of civilization. As to preserving a character of weight and consequence the case appears to me directly the reverse. It is an attaint upon character; a sort of privateering upon Fenil property. It may have weight-among dependent tenants, but it gives none on a scale of national, and much less of universal character. Speaking for myself, my parents were not able to give me a shilling beyond what they gave me in education ; and to do this they distressed themselves ; ; yet I possess more of what is calledRIGHTS OF MAN. 4()7 consequence, in the world, than any one in Mr. Burke’s cata- logue of aristocrats. Having thus glanced at some of the defects of the two houses of parliament, [ proceed to what is called the crown, upon which I shall be very concise. It signifies a nominal otfice of a million sterling a-year, the business of which consists in recelving the money. Whether the person be wise or foolish, sane or insane, a native or a foreigner, matters not. Every ministry acts upon the same idea that Mr. Burke writes, namely, that the people must be hoodwinked, and held in superstitious ignorance by some bug- bear or other; and what is called the crown answers this pur- pose, and therefore it answers all the purposes to be expected from it. This is more than can be said of the other two branches. The hazard to which this office is exposed in all countries, is not from anything that can happen to the man, but from what may happen to the nation ; the danger of its coming to its senses. It has been customary to call the crown the executive power, and the custom has continued, though the reason has ceased. it was called the executive, because he whom it signified used formerly to sit in the character of a judge, in administering or executing the laws. The tribunals were then a part of the court. ‘The power, therefore, which is now called the judicial, was what is called the executive; and, consequently, one or the other of the terms is redundant, and one of the offices useless. When we speak of the crown now, it means nothing ; it signi- fies neither a judge nor a general: besides which, it is the laws that govern, and not the man. The old terms are kept up, and give an appearance of consequence to empty forms: and the only effect they have is that of increasing expenses. Before I proceed to the means of rendering governments more conducive to the general happiness of mankind than they are at present, it will not be improper to take a review of the progress of taxation in England. It is a general idea, that when taxes are once laid on, they are never taken off. However true this may have been of late, it was not always so. Hither, therefore, the people of former times were more watchful over government than those of the present, or government was administered with less extravagance. Tt is now seven hundred years since the Norman conquest, Pe 2. 23 sSosh5e03255 . a da ah eR SRE RAR Nesp oS NST OS I NNT ERE TS preset et Peet ye SSgs2Sse3as2: eis cedeeectameesece y ees tf SO SPREE RS Te ee 35 Be es eggpaxereseteaeini tit iis eal bi ote eh T s tise ‘portion of time in seven separate periods of one diundred year 408 RIGHTS GE MAN, und the establishment of what is called the crown. Taking this each, the amount of the annual taxes, at each period, will be as follows: Annual amount of taxes levied by William the Conqueror, begin- ning in the year i066, . . pinsig. es itetOU, 000 Annual amount of taxes at one hundred years from the conquest, (A.60)5 efits Fee Te, pe ite irel Gelniue an tenet ences Ee 200,000 Annual amount of taxes at two hundred years from the conquest, E266) Ni st le) ie gee eee uant ad ica 150,000 Annual amount of taxes at three hundred years from the conquest, (Lot 6) 130,000 Annual amount of taxes at four hundred years from the conquest, ee 0 RNa s aaeracay saaaee These statements, and those which follow. are taken from Sir John Sinclair’s ‘‘ History of the Revenue ;” by which it t appears, that taxes continued decreasing for four hundred years, at the expiration of which time they were reduced tl hree-fourths, VUE. , foci four hundred thousand: pounds to one hundred thousand. he people of England, of the present day, have a traditionary and historical idea of the bravery of their ancestors; but what- ever their virtues or vices micht | nave been, fo certainly a people who would not be Pe upon, and wl 10 Sei govern ment in awe as to taxation, if not as to principle. Though they were not ab le to e gobi the monarchical usurpation, they restricted it to a public economy of taxes Let us now review the rem: ining tiphe hundred 5 years. Were Annual amount of taxes at five hundred years from t} - Gf 9) ° s Annual amount of taxes at six ‘hundred years s from the conquest, { 1 66) Ri ligt Pate ste aes oe whoa 1,800,060 Annual amount of taxes at the present time, CUO) ek es 000. ne 1e conquest, £500,000 The difference between the first four hundred years and the last three. is so astonishing, as to warrant the opinion, that the national character of : English has changed. It would have been impossible to have dragooned the former En: glish into the excess of taxation that now ace and when it is con- idered that the pay of tie army, the navy, and of all the rev- enue-oflicers, is fiers Same now as it was ae a hundred years ago, when the taxes were not above a tenth part of what they are at present. it appears impossible to account for the enormousRIGHTS OF MAN. 4OQ increase and expenditure on any other ground than extrava- gance, corruption, and intrigue.* With the revolution of 1 688, and more so since the Hanover succession, came the destructive system of continental intri and the rage for foreign wars OT cues, and foreign dominion ; systems such secure mystery, that the expenses admit of no accounts; a single line stands for millions. To what excess taxation might have extended, had not the French revolution contri. buted to break up the system, and put an end to pretences, is impossible to say. Viewed as that revolution ought to be, as the fortunate means of lessening the load of taxes of both * Several of the court newspapers have of late made frequent mention of Wat Tyler. That his memory should be traduced by court sycophants, and all those who live upon the spoil of a public, is not to be wondered at. He was, however, the means of checking the rage and injustice of taxation in his time, and the nation owed much to his valor. The history is concisely this :—In the time of Richard II. a poll-tax was levied of one shilling per head upon every person in the nation, of whatever class or condition, on poor as well as rich, above the age of fifteen years. If any favor was shown in the law it was to the rich rather than the poor; as no person could be charged more than twenty shillings for himself, family, and servants, though ever so numerous—while all other families, under the number of twenty, were charged per head. Polltaxes had always been odious—but this being also oppressive and unjust, it excited, as it naturally must, universal detes- tation among the poor and middle classes. The person known by the name of Wat Tyler, and whose proper name was Walter, and a tyler by trade, lived at Deptford. The gatherer of the poll-tax on coming to his house, de- manded a tax for one of his daughters, whom Tyler declared was under the age of fifteen. ‘The tax-gatherer insisted in satisfying himself, and began an indecent examination of the girl, which enraging the father, he struck him with a hammer, that brought him to the ground and was the cause of his death. ‘The circumstance served to bring the discontents to an issue. The in- habitants of the neighborhood espoused the cause of Tyler, who, in a few days, was joined, according to some historians, by upwards of fifty thousand men, and chosen their chief. With this force he marched to London, to de- mand an abolition of the tax,.and a redress of other grievances. 'The court, finding itself in a forlorn condition, and unable to make resistance, agreed, with Richard at its head, to hold a conference with Tyler in Smithfield, making many fair professions, courtier-like, of its disposition to redress the oppressions. While Richard and Tyler were in conversation on these mat- ters, each being on horseback, Walworth, then mayor of London, and one of the creatures of the court, watched an opportunity, and, like a cowardly assassin, stabbed Tyler with a dagger—and two or three others falling upon him, he was instantly sacrificed. : Pe ace Tyler appears to have been an intrepid, disinterested man, with respect to himself. All his proposals made to Richard were on @ more just and public ground than those which had been made to John by the barons; and notwithstanding the sycophancy of historians, and men like Mr. Burke, who seek to gloss over a base action of the court by traducing Tyler, his fame will outlive their falsehood. iE the barons merited a monument to be erected in Runneymede, Tyler merits one in Smithfield, 3 ey Cat tershsetein s4 Peer LAE ENON TI PEs RP RR FAT ETE RT TE POEL Ts PTT ee Tee ET ee ya eae eS ee te | ERE SPIT TTA UNF ATER TRON ET ORT DEALS TE 2 TNS CAE PDN410 RIGHTS OF MAN. countries, it is of as much importance to England as to France ; and, if properly improved to all the advantages of which it 1s capable, and to which it leads, deserves as much celebration in the one country as the other. In pursuing this subject, I shall begin with the matter that first presents itself, that of lessening the burden of taxes; and shall then add such matters and propositions, respecting the three countries of England, France and America, as the present prospect of things appears to justify ; T mean an alliance of the three, for the purposes that will be mentioned in their proper places. What has happened may happen again. By the statement before shown, of the progress of taxation, it is seen that taxes have been lessened to a fourth part of what they had formerly been. Though the present circumstances do not admit of the same reduction, yet they admit of such a beginning as may ac- complish that end in less time than in the former case. The amount of taxes for the year ending at Michaelmas, 1778, was as follows: Wnanotax = 6. ee ee es es ee ee £1,950,000 Giuetoms ae ee I ee 3,789, 274 Excise (including old and new malt) . . . - - + + 6,751, 727 Ua Lia a ae ee eS Ree .- 2,278,214 Miscellaneous taxes and incidents . . . + «© « « + 1,803, 755 Total + jus Hh Gr Ree EL a) Since the year 1788, upwards of one million, new taxes, have been laid on, besides the produce of the lotteries ;.and as the taxes have in general been more productive since than before, the amount may be taken, in round numbers, at $17, 000,000. N.B.-—The expense of collection and the drawbacks, which together amount to nearly two millions, are paid out of the gross amount; and the above is the net sum paid into the ex~ chequer. The sum of seventeen millions is applied to two different purposes; the one to pay the interest of the national debt, the other to pay the current expenses of each year. About nine millions are appropriated to the former; and the remainder, being nearly eight millions, to the latter. As to the million, said to be applied to the reduction of the debt, it is so muchRIGHTS OF MAN. Alt like paying with one hand and taking out with the other, as not to merit much notice. 't happened fortunately for France that she possessed national domains for paying off her debt, and thereby lessening her taxes; but as this is not the case in England, her reduction of taxes can only take place by reducing the current expenses, which may now be done to the amount of four or five millions annually, as will hereafter appear. When this is accomplished, it will more than counterbalance the enormous charge of the American war; and the saving will be from the same source from whence the evil arose. As to the national debt, however heavy the interest may be in taxes, yet, as it seems to keep alive a capital, useful to com- merce, it balances by its effects a considerable part of its own weight; and as the quantity of gold and silver in England is, by some means or other, short of its proper proportion,* (being not more than twenty millions, whereas it should be sixty,) it would, besides the injustice, be bad policy to extinguish a capital that serves to supply that defect. But, with respect to the current expense, whatever is saved therefrom is gain. The ex- cess may serve to keep corruption alive, but it has no reaction on credit and commerce, like the interest of the debt. It is now very probable, that the English government (I do not mean the nation) is unfriendly to the French revolution. Whatever serves to expose the intrigue and lessen the influence of courts, by lessening taxation, will be unwelcome to those who feed upon the spoil. Whilst the clamor of French intrigue, arbitrary power, popery, and wooden shoes could be kept up, the nations were easily allured and alarmed into taxes. Those days are now past; deception, it is to be hoped, has reaped its last harvest, and better times are in prospect for both countries and for the world. Taking it for granted that an alliance may be formed between Eneland, France and America, for the purposes hereafter to be mentioned, the national expenses of France and England may consequently be lessened. The same fleets and armies will no longer be necessary to either, and the reduction can be made ship for ship on each side. But to accomplish these objects, the governments must necessarily be fitted to a common cor- respondent principle. Confidence can never take place while Foreign intrigues, foreign wars, and foreign dominions, will in a great measure account for the deficiency. rd SseRQaetsagesszs FATS WE ITA MENT IS ETE ERIS TTS MITE Pre Re tes eed ere ery Teer ee tr at SSryCrs ete ese atePePurari tarea rai ire. eighgiaey Cierra s) ceeeget ber rs C. cess blaties 412 RIGHTS OF MAN a hostile disposition remains in either, or where mystery and secrecy on one side is opposed to candor and openness on the other. These matters admitted, the national expenses might be put back, for the sake of a precedent, to what they were at some period when France and England were not enemies. ‘This, consequently, must be prior to the Hanover succession, and a!so to the revolution of 1688.* The first instance that presents itself, antecedent to those dates, is in the very wasteful and profligate time of Charles I1., at which time England and France acted as allies. If I have chosen a period of great ex- travagance, it will serve to show modern extravagance in a still worse li¢ht; especially, as the pay of the navy, the army, and the revenue-officers has not increased since that time. The peace establishment was then as follows: (See Sir John Sinclaix’s ‘‘ History of the Revenue.” PNGUS eGR) io. ug: ele teh! ist a tacee oe aren £300,000 CACTI Bane TA ACO eer Pine le ae re ee 212,000 Ordnamre cig: dads se stseake Pe 40,000 TVITISG «sa. ced: tas win, oa eine ee 462,115 Total © e ° . ® a ° . £1,014,115 The Bereenanhy a rever, sett led the whole annual peace establishment at £1,200,000.+ If we go back to the time of Elizabeth, the amount of all a taxes was but half a million, yet the nation sees nothing during that period, that reproaches it with want of consequence. LE happened to be in E ea at the celebration of the centenary of the revolution of 1688. The characters of William and Mary have always ap- peared to me detestable; the one seeking to destroy his uncle, and the other her father, to get posse ssion of power themselves: yet, as the nation was disposed to think something of that event, I felt hurt at seeing it ascribe the whole reputation of it to a man who had undertaken it as a job, and who, besides what he otherwise got, charg rec oo six hundred thousand pounds for the expense of the little fleet that brought him from Holland. George I. acted the same close- fisted part as Will iam had done, and bought the Duchy of Bremen with the money he got from England, two hn wae and fifty thousand pounds over and above his pay as king; and having thus pur- chased it at the expense of England, added to it his Fano “an dominions for his own private benefit. In fact, every nation that . 8 not govern itself, is governed as a job. England has been the prey of jous ever since the revolution. + Charles, like his predecessors and successors, finding that war was the harvest of governments, engaged in a war with the Dutch, the expense of which increased the annual expenditure to £1,800,000, as stated under the date of 1666; but the peace establishment was but £1,200,000.RIGHTS OF MAN, 41: wy All circumstances then taken together, arising. from the French revolution, from the approaching ¢ har mony and reci procal interest of the two nations, the abolition of court inti ‘gue on both sides, and the rogress of knowledge in the science of gov- ernment, the annual expenditure might be put back to one million and a half, viz.: IN Fie outa hi ieee ik teal oc wi oe £500,000 Army . We cae re ee tes eee ne 500, 000 Expenses OL-FOvernmentes tp bee 500. 009 ris mat an LOUAL . - oie oe Chink wis 500 ,JUU0 Fu poy ae wr ep ges 9a) a Hiven this sum is six times ereater than the expenses of gcov- } ernment are in America, oo the civil internal government of . om alee 9 ] ‘ England (I mean that administered by m« ans Of « quarter sessions, sig says ee fal ei ane ] } and which, in fact, is nearly the whole, and T the né Aik Is ies expense woon the revenue, aa s ere pecies an d portion of ecovernmentis in America. i eg 1 edie : el: col aga 1 S It is tiine that nations heat pe rat onal, and not be gov- erned like animals for the pleasure of their riders. To read the history of kings, a man would be almost inclined to suppose that government consisted in stag-hunting, and that every nation paid a million a-year to the huntsman. Man ought to have pride or shame enough to blush at being thus imposed u pon, and when he feels his proper character he will. Upon all subjects of this nature, there is often passing in the mind a train of ideas he 3 not yet accustomed himself to encourage and communi- cate. Restrained by something that puts on the character of prudence, he acts the hypocrite 0 himself as well as to others. It is, howe ver, curious to observe how soon this spell can be dissolved. A single expression, boldly conceived and uttered, will sometimes put a whole company into their Peopes feelings, and a whole nation are acted upon in the same manner. As to the offices of which any civil government may be com- posed, it matters but little by ‘what names they are described. in the routine of business, as before observed, whether a man be styled a president, a king, an. ef a senator, or anything else, it is impossible that any service he can perform, can merit from a nation more than ten thousand pounds a-year ; and as no man should be paid beyond his services, so every man of a pro- per heart will not accept more. Public money ought to be touched with the most scrupulous consciousness of honor. Itis not the produce of riches only, but of the hard earnings ot labor - ) Siesta <8 Ta . SPE TES FTES TT NES gee Te SSS BOL ERT FE LE TE ATT A APO DAT TTR TPN ETRE OREN RES PE TES MUO ENS> RIGHTS OF MAN. and poverty. It is drawn even from the bitterness of want and misery. Nota beggar passes, or perishes in the streets, whose mite is not in that mass. Were it possible that the congress of America, could be so lost to their duty, and to the interest of their constituents, as to offer General Washington, as president of America, a million a-year, he would not, and he could not accept it. His sense of honor is of another kind. It has cost England almost seventy millions sterling to maintain a family imported trom abroad, of very inferior capacity to thousands in the nation ; and scarcely a year has passed that has not produced some mercenary appli- cation. Even the physicians’ bills have been sent to the public to be paid. No wonder that jails are crowded, and taxes and poor-rates increased. Under such systems, nothing is to be looked for but what has already happened; and as to reforma- tion, whenever it comes, it must be from the nation, and not from the government. To show that the sum of five hundred thousand pounds is more than sufficient to defray all the expenses of government, exclusive of navies and armies, the following estimate is added for any country of the same extent as England. In the first place, three hundred representatives, fairly elected, are sufficient for all the purposes to which legislation can apply, and preferable to a large number. They may be divided into two, or three houses, or meet in one, as in France, or in any manner a constitution shall direct. As representation is always considered, in free countries, as the most honorable of all stations, the allowance made to it is merely to defray the expenses which the representatives incur by that service, and not to it as an office. If an allowance at the rate of five hundred pounds per annum be made to every representative, deducting for non-attend- ance, the expense, if the whole nuimber attended for six months each. year, would be «.- ¢:« 6.3.) 2: The official departments cannot reasonably exceed the follow- ing number, with the salaries annexed: Three offices, at ten thousand pounds each . . .. .» 30,000 Ten ditto, at five thousand poundseach . . . « « -« 50,000 £75,000 Twenty ditto, at two thousand poundseach. . . . - 40,000 Forty ditto, at one thousand pounds Revit 49 gee te 40,900 Two hundred ditto, at five hundred poundseach . . . 100,000 Three hundred ditto, at two hundred pounds each. . 60,000 Five hundred ditto, at one hundred poundseach . . . 50,000 Seven hundred ditto, at seventy-five poundseach. . . 52,500 OTAT: “en, 1 . £497.500RIGHTS OF MAN. 415 If a nation chooses, it can deduct four per cent. from all offices, and make one of twenty thousand per annum. All revenue-oflicers are paid out of the moneys they collect, and therefore, are not included in this estimation. The foregoing is not offered as an exact detail of offices, but to show the number and rate of salaries which five hundred thousand pounds will support ; and it will, on experience, be found impracticable to find business sufficient to justify even this expense. As to the manner in which office business is now performed, the chiefs in several offices, such as the post-office, and certain offices in the exchequer, &c., do little more than sign their names three or four times a year ; and the whole duty is performed by under clerks. Taking, therefore, one million and a half asa sufficient peace establishment for all the honest purposes of government, which is three hundred thousand pounds more than the peace estab- lishment in the profligate and prodigal times of Charles II. (notwithstanding, as has been already observed, the pay and salaries of the army, navy, and revenue-officers, continue the same as at that period), there will remain a surplus of upwards of six millions out of the present current expenses. The ques- tion then will be, how to dispose of this surplus. Whoever has observed the manner in which trade and taxes twist themselves together, must be sensible of the impossibility of separating them suddenly. Ist, Because the articles now on hand are already charged with the duty, and the reduction cannot take place on the pre- sent stock. 2nd, Because, on all those articles on which the duty is charged in the gross, such as per barrel, hogshead, hundred- weight, or ton, the abolition of the duty does not admit of being divided down so as fully to relieve the consumer, who purchases by the pint, or the pound. The last duty laid on strong beer and ale, was three shillings per barrel, which, if taken off, would lessen the purchase only half a farthing per pint, and consequently would not reach to practical relief. ee This being the condition of a greater part of the taxes, it will be necessary to look for such others as are free trom this em- barrassment, and where the relief will be direct and visible, and capable of immediate operation. In the first place, then, the poor-rates are a direct tax which every housekeeper feels, and who knows also, to a farthing, the ST ST TRI OLR LEER ELI IT Peto oe terest cere sete rer rey +4 SF t2 SO oe Peer trea eed steae? ee eae ea St ont Sei Sseigete z Pocaiit titralpiaiy) tos peat gicdiin * Peer rie LL aa oe Pa) Ee tiStEiSiit ress tte tata RIGHTS O MAN. sum which he pays. eae national amount of the whole of the poor-rates is not positiv y known, but can be procured. Sir ‘ohn Sinclair, in his “History of the Revenue,” has stated it at £2.100,587, +a ee: part of which is expended in litigations, in which the poor, instead of being relieved, are tormented. ‘The expense, however, is the same to the parish, ‘om whatever cause 1t arises. [In Birmingham, the amount of the poor-rates is fourteen ’ os Fees ey eae 2 gui thousand pO uunds a year. this, though a largve sum, is mode- 4 el 4} + eds ee E 7 : j ite compared with the population. Du mingnam 18 said tO contain seventy thousand souls, and on a proportion of seventy housand to fourteen thous: nd pounds poor-rates he national nount of poor-rates, taking the population of England at seven millions, w ould be but one million tour hundre dthou: and pounds. It is, therefore, most probable, that the population of Birming nam 1s over-rated. Fourteen tnousana pounas IS tne pre por- fe Os eae crv ic rece » ee he oe £ on upon fifty thousand souls, takine two millions of poor :7 pp 1 ee ae es as the national amount. Be it, however, what 1t may, 1t 1s no other than the conse- } auence of the excessive burden of taxes, for, at the time when the i : nee ih a 1] ‘ 1) RNs ; taxes were very low, the poor were able to maintain themselves: ind there were no poor-rates.* In the present state of things, a laboring man, with a wife and two or three children, does not pay less than between seven and eight pounds a year in taxes. He } is not sensible of this, because it is disguised to him in the erotics which he buys, and he thinks only of their eee - but as the taxes take from him, at least, a fourth part of his y early earn- ings, he is consequently disabled from providing for a family especially if himself, or any of them, are afflicted with Loe The first step, therefore, of practical relief, would be to abolish the poor-rates entirely, and, in leu thereof, to make a remis- sion of taxes to the poor to double the amount of the present Dd poor-rates, vz., four millions annually out of the surplus t taxes. By this measure the poor would be benefited two millions and the housekeepers two millions. This alone would be equal to the reduction of one hundred and twenty millions of the national debt, and consequently equal to the whole expense of the American war. It will then remain to be considered which is the most effec- tual mode of distributing the remission of four millions. * Poor-rates began ‘about the time of ‘Henry LL. when taxes began to increase, and they have increased as the taxes inc reased ever since.RIGHTS OF MAN. 47 It is easily seen that the poor are generally composed of large families of children, and old people unable to labor. If these two classes are provided for, che remedy will so far reach to the full extent of the case, that what remains will be incidental. and, in a great measure, fall within the compass of benefit clubs, which, though of humble invention, merit to be ranked among the best of modern institutions. Admitting England to contain seven millions of souls; if one fifth thereof are of that class of poor which need support, the number will be one million four hundred thousand. Of this number, one hundred and forty thousand will be aged and poor, as will be hereafter shown, and for which a distinct provision will be proposed. There will then remain one million two hundred and sixty thousand, which, at five souls to each family, amount to two hundred and fifty-two thousand families, rendered poor from the expense of children and the weight of taxes. 7 The number of children under fourteen years of age, in each ee c hs s eve : 4 A > i ~ 2 te aa of those families, will be found to be five to every two families; some having two, others three; some one, and others four; some none, and others five; but it rarely happens that more than five are undér fourteen years of age, and after this age th are capable of service, or of being apprenticed. ilowing five children (under fourteen years) to every two families, The number of children will be’. 9..'. 2 2, & 2%, 30,000 The number of parents, were they all living, would be. . 504,000 [t is certain that if the children are provided for, the parents are relieved of consequences, because it is from the expense of bringing up children that their poverty arises. Having ‘thus ascertained the greatest number that can be supposed to need support on account of young families, I pro- ceed to the mode of relief, or distribution, which is, To pay as a remission of taxes to every poor family, out of the surplus taxes, and in room of poor-rates, four pounds a year for every child under fourteen years of age; enjoining the parents of such children to send them to school, to learn read- ing, writing, and common arithmetic; the ministers of every parish, of every denomination, to certily jointly to an oifice, for this purpose, that the duty 1s performed. 27 4 fi ae a A ca See rea trey £4 pee 2 =See ed ee) reer EAE ST TREE oe a eS eee «tnetdnbececed SHSTR STAGE TGS ESE : = ses ENOL WNT i TET NT TY LO LETTING REE I AIA TR Rie ATCT T a SAIYAN Sey SOS PRS IOPore e oi 418 RIGHTS OF MAN. Ty TT Lait S| this onnensGs will be, for six hundred and fe | 1 per annum, £2,520,000. The amount of ‘ thirty thousand c 7] } f 3 Sa zs : ; ae Sy Sewn ce ea By Aadov ting tos methor : not Ont) tne poverty OT the parents ts te eae tal edt will be relieved, but ignorance will be banished from the rising * 4 } ~ f° \ > a + } y } 3 reneration, and the n r of poor will nereaiter become less, es ee 7 1 ae 1 732 Tee ea : opecause LS Li1T1eS DY Le al Oo eaucation, Wiil oe greate} a vt 1tA navcuy I Senius, WNoO.1IsS apprenticed } ] . ] . ] . AY? tay he | 17 | l- LO a I Cn 1Cad rac ic¢n asa arpenter, W -EIWYTIONt, DLACK- ae ‘ ; 7 oe SMIthn, WwW 5 reve Ct evtins j warg tne Ww hole Of his L1Té f ] { 134 gen tea ed re la | FOTD > Wanht O LULi common 1uCat1ION Wnen a DOY 7 ] } { i noy TOC 1 tO 7 ease OT tne red 7 4 } t > | i Qlv1ae age Ito two Classes 1e€ approacn of Qa & rie aaa £ LA = : Soy beoinn oO ITU’ 4 , old age, commencing at sixty. \ ] Pek | Le 2 ry AG DEG ilOU Rs me} is aACULLIES OF Man i tull Vis E: : 7 : : > 1 Iq 4 | } 1d his Jjudem etter th ny preceding date, the bodily : t } } j 1: 1 y ens g re on tne ae 1 fie Cannot ovear t! san quantity us + 1 | 1 : j -- > i+ t > + yt fatigue a an ‘lier period He begins to earn less, and j mvt e aay | 1 ] te J is less capable of enduring the wind and weather: and in those ai ea ae er eae Se fa ah oe Sie A ge G21, CevcLtr ca clili ps yVMents ‘ elt mu¢ SIS Dt 1S requireqa ne Tas ee ee) Oe eh ee Le Ts Te ee 1 : Sa ENC una tee:s himself like an old horse, beginning to be turned adrift. . f Af sixty, his labor ought to be over, at? least from direct PeTete ici cererss: necessity. It is painful to see old age working itself to death, in what are called civilized countries, for its daily bread. To form some judgment of the number of those above fifty years of age, | have several times counted the persons I met in ii the streets of London, men, women and children, and have generally found that the average is one in about sixteen or seventeen. If it be said that aged persons do not come much into the streets, so neither do infants; and a great proportion of grown children are in schools, and in the work-shops as | Ee Are es : ji See apprentices. Taking then sixteen for a divisor, the whole num- } ae ae . my ] A i. ttx7 wy oT: ¥ rarala +f ber of persons in Hngland, of fifty years and upwards, of both ¢ ; . sexes, rich and poor, will be four hundred and twenty thousand. The persons to be provided for out of this eross number will nen, common laborers, journ eymen of every trade, Vv a } and their wives, sailors, and disbanded soldier rs, worn out ser- vants of both sexes, and poor widows. 1lso be a consider ‘able pees of n nic uiddling trades men, who. having lived de cently in neo ‘ Lie, Ar business, and at ea fal}419 * evolutions of that wheel which no man can stop nor regulat number from every class of life conneeted with commerce ant Besides these, there will be constan tly thrown off from the a mo : k l'o provide for all those accidents, and whatever else may dil, 1 take the numoer or persons who at one time or other o ears > of ry 1 eee ye op ph iG lick tie neuer EE l'o pay to every such person of the age of He : , PTs ae Af arvtw pS ea mei 1e shall arrive at the age of sixty, the sum xnnum out of the surplus taxes; and ten . ps : a Pt Age Pee é rn Er luring life,.after the age of siaty. The exy Seventy thousand persons at £6 per annum .. . . £420,000 Seventy thousand persons at £10 perannum ... . 700,000 Potala ee et ee Score ety This Suppor as alread) ee is not of the nature o Tery person. i England, ale and Ae re charity, but of a righ U. AWD female, pays on an avera in taxes { two pounds and sixpence per annum 1 he expense of coll lection be leven shillings and sixpence; consequen tly ears. he has paid one hundred and twent aieiia ie ; . Z tee Eon p pene hillines; and at sixty, one > hundred and a : <> / v wi 231 j i [eats hnoa CC verrino shillings. ee nto a tontine, t “lege 11 interest of nose whose circumstance na the eanits and the capita eae See ey aagers PRL uet toe es Tee tA Ae L Raa Stet EP De ERD RIGHTS OF MAN. Cases defrays the e CDENSES ( f SOVEPNINE [t1s on this Pane that IT have extended the probable claims to one-third of the number of aged persons in the nation.—Is it then better that the lives of one hundred and forty thousand aged persons be endered comfortable, or that a million a- year of public money be expended on any one Aen and he often of the most worthless and insignificant ae aracter? Let reason and justice, 1 let honor and een ity et even hypocrisy, sycophancy, and Mr. Burke, let George, iet Hotis Leopold, Riedore Catherine, Cornwallis, or Tippo Saib, answer the question.* The sum thus remitted to the poor will be, To two hundred and fi i ;wo thousand poor families, containing six hundred and thirty thousand children » is) se, 82,520,000 ‘To one hundred and forty thousand aged POrsOng gi: be 000 Total? 2. ate gate ges £3, 640, 000 There will then remain three hundred and sixty thousand pounds out of the four millions, part of which may be applied en f as follows: After all the above cases are provided for, there will still be a number of families who, though not properly of the class of poor, yet find it difficult to give education to their children: and such children, under such a case, would be in a worse con- dition than if their parents were ac tually poor. A nation under a well regulated government, should permit none to remain un- instructed. Itis m¢ onarchical and aristocratical governments only that require ignorance for their r support. * Receaning o he taxes by families, bond to a family, aan Ge pays on an average £12 17s. 6d. per annum, to this sum are to be added ee poor- rates. Though all pay taxes in the articles they consume, all do not pay poor-rates. About two millions are exempted, some as not bei ng house- keepers, others as not being able, and the poor themselves who receive the relief. The average therefore of poor-rates on the remaining number, is forty shillings for every family of five persons, which makes the whole aver. age amount of taxes and rates, £14 17s. 6d.—for six persons, £17 17's.—for geven persons, £20 16s. 6d. The average of taxes in America, under the new or representative system of government, including the interest of the debt contracted in the war ,and taking the population at four millions of souls, which it now amounts to, and is daily i increasing, is five shillings per head, men, women, and children, The difference, therefore, between the two governments, is as under: England. America. For a family of five persons . . ar, 17s. 6d. £1). + 5s. Od: For a family of six persons . . 17-0 ds 2kO: 0 For a family of seven persons . 20 16 6 ts 79RIGHTS OF MAN. APT Suppose then four hundred thousand children to be in this condition, which is a greater number than ought to be supposed, after the provisions already made, the method will be, To allow for each of those children ten shillings a-year for the expenses of schooling, for six years each, which will give them six months’ schooling each year, and half a crown a-year for paper and spelling books. The expense of this will be annually* £250,000. There will then remain one hundred and ten thousand pounds. Notwithstanding the great modes of relief which the best in- stituted and best principled government may devise, there will ctill be a number of smaller cases, which it is good policy as well as beneficence in a nation to consider. Were twenty shillings to be given to every woman imme diately on the birth of a child, who should make the demand, and none will make it whose eircumstances do not require it, it might relieve a great deal of instant distress. There are about two hundred thousand births yearly in Eng- land; and if claimed by one-fourth, the amount would be £50,000. And twenty shillings to every new married couple who should claim in like mannez. This would not exceed the sum of £20,000. Also twenty thousand pounds to be appropriated to defray the funeral expenses of persons, who, travelling for work, may die at a distance from their friends. By relieving parishes from this charge, the sick stranger will be better treated. I shall finish this part of my subject with a plan adapted to the particular condition of a metropolis, such as London. Cases are continually occurring ina metropolis different from vhich occur in the country, and for which a different, 01 yather an additional mode of relief is necessary. In the country, those *% Public schools do not answer the general purpose of the poor. They are hiefly in corporation-towns, trom which the country towns and villages are ( f admitted, the distance occasions a great loss of time. Hduca- hould be on the spot—and the best method, I sk 4d excluded- —Or ii LC tion, to be useful to the poor, s : believe, to accomplish this, 1s to enable the parents to pay the expense lves. There are always persons of both sexes to be found in every reso especially when growing into years, capable of such an undertaking. Tw entyv children, at ten shillings each (and that not more than six months in each year), would be as much as some livings amount to in the remote narts of England—and there are often distressed clergymen’s widows to eho such an income would be acceptable. W hatever is given on this ac- count to children answers two purposes, to them it is education, to those it is @ livelihood. who educ them it 1 Og RET sere peas Ps eaSsezags eT RE AT EStesesteo-2*2*7 SeesdehecaPT PETIPL tri citial bit ire etd 4.299 RIGHTS OF MAN. even in large towns, people have a knowledge of each other, and distress never rises to that extreme height it sometimes does in a metropolis. There isno such thing in the country as persons, in the literal sense of the word, starved to death, or dying with cold for the want of a lodging. Yet such cases, and others equally as miserable, happen in London. Many a youth comes up to London full of expectations, and little or no money, and unless he gets employment he is already half undone; and boys bred up in London without any means of a livelihood, and, as it often happens, of dissolute parents, arc in a still worse condition, and servants long out of place art not much better off. In short, a world of little cases are con- tinually arising, which busy or affluent life knows not of. tc open the first door to distress. Hunger is not among the post- ponable wants, and a day, even a few hours, in such a con dition, is often the crisis of a life of ruin. These circumstances, which are the general cause of the litt] ult thefts and pilferings that lead to greater, may be prevented. There yet remain twenty thousand pounds out of the four mil- lions of surplus taxes, which, with another fund hereafter to be mentioned, amounting to about twenty thousand pounds more, cannot be better applied than to this purpose. ‘The plan then will be, Ist, To erect two or more buildings, or take some already erected, capable of containing at least six thousand persons, and to have in each of these places as many kinds of employment as can be contrived, so that every person who shall come may find something which he or she can do. 2nd, T’o receive all who shall come, without inquiring who or what they are. The only condition to be, that for so much or so many hours’ work, each person shall receive so many meals of wholesome food, and a warm lodging, at least as good ag a bar- rack. That a certain portion of what each person’s work shall be worth shall be reserved, and given to him, or her, on their going away ; and that each person shall stay as long, or as short time, or come as often as he chooses, on these conditions. If each person stayed three months, it would assist by rotation twenty-four thousand persons annually, though the real num- ber, at all times, would be but six thousand. By establishing an asylum of this kind, such persons, to whom temporary dis- tresses occur, would have an opportunity to recruit themselves, and he enabled to look out for better employment.RIGHTS OF MAN, 425 Allowing that their labor paid but one-halt the expense of supporting them, after reserving a portion of their earnings for themselves, the sum of forty thousand pounds additional would defray all other charges for even a greater number than six thousand. The fund very properly convertible to this purpose, in addi- t vw tion to the twenty thousand pounds, remaining of the former fund, will be the produce of the tax upon coals, and so iniqiu- tously and wantonly applied to the support of the duke of Richmond. It is horrid that any man, more especially at the price coals now are, should live on the distresses of a commun- ity; and any government permitting such an abuse deserves to be dissolved. pounds per annum. I shall now conclude this plan with enumerating the several particulars, and then proceed to other matters. The enumeration is as follows: lst, Abolition of two millions poor-rates. This fund is said to be about twenty thousand 2nd, Provision for two hundred and fifty-two thousand poor familie 3rd A Ath, ) 5th, births. S. Education for one million and thitty thousand children. Comfortable provision for one hundred and forty thou- sand aged persons. “Donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thousand 6th, Donation of twenty shillings each for twenty thousand marriages. 7th, Allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the funeral £ y expenses of persons tra velling for work, and dying at a distance oO from their friends. 8th, Employment, at all times, for the casnal poor in the cities of London and Westminster. By the operation of this plan, the poor laws, those instru- ments expense of litigation prevented. will not be of seventy i of C1V eT: +paft ril torture, will be superseded, and the wasteful The hearts of the humane shocked by ragged and hungry children, and persons and eighty years of age begging for bread. The dying poor will not be dragged from place to place to breathe their last, as a reprisal of parish upon parish. have a maintenance for their children, and not be carted away, on the death of their husbands, like culprits and criminals; and children will no longer be considered as increasing the Widows will % Ea ee ee ee eee TOT MENTE rT TSE eee oe peor ee see sree HAPTER SOIT OTT ee ee ee ae a at Sa ftdegeSssesee + sresde <2 >= five =?at tints tes 2 TNT Eth z te tes % o~ os aN £ cI “4 424 RIGHTS OF MAN. distress of their parents. ‘The haunts of the wretched will be known, because it will be to their advantage; and the number of petty crimes, the offspring of distress and poverty, will be lessened. The poor, as well as the rich, will then be inter- ested in the support of sovernment, and the cause and appre- hension of riots and tumults will cease. Ye who sit in ease, and solace yourselves in plenty, and such there are in Turkey and Russia, as well as in England, and who say to yourselves, “ Are we not well off,” have ye thought of these things? When ye do, ye will cease to speak and feél for yourselves alone. The plan is easy in practice. It does not embarrass trade by a sudden interruption in the order of taxes, but effects the relief by changing the application of them; and the more neces- sary for the purpose, can be drawn from the excise collections, which are made eight times a-year in every market town in England. Having now arranged and concluded thi to the next. Taking the present current expenses at seven millions and a half, which is the least amount they are now at, there will remain (after the sum of one million and a half be ta the new current expenses, and four mil] tioned service) the sum of two mil applied as follows: s subject, I proceed ken for 1ons for the beforemen- lions, part of which to be Though fleets and armies, by an alliance with France, will, in a great measure, become useless. yet the persons who have devoted themselves to those services, and have thereby unfitted themselves for other lines of life, are not to be su fferers by the means that make others happy.—They are a different descrip- tion of men to those who form or hang about a court. A part of the army will remain at least for some years, and also of the navy, for which a provision is already made, in the former part of this plan, of one million, which is almost half a million more than the peace establishment of the army and navy in the prodigal times of Charles IT, Suppose then fifteen thousand soldiers to be disbanded. and to allow to each of those men tl life, clear of al] deductions, to be paid in the same manner as the Chelsea College pensioners are paid, and for them to return to their trades and their friends; and also to add fifteen thou- sand sixpences per week tc to the pay of the soldiers who shall remain; the annual expense will be, wee shillings a week duringRIGHTS OF MAN. 4.255 To the pay ot fifteen thousand disbanded soldiers, at three shil- Imes "per week ee : oie eee) pie deb OOD Additional pay to the remaining soldiers . pe A ager 19,500 Suppose that the pay to the officers of the disbanded corps be of the same amount as the sum allowed to the men Se ne e000 £253,500 ‘To prevent bulky estimations, admit the same sum to the dis- banded navy as to the army, and the same increase of pay . 253,500 Dotade ct) sms = e507, 000 Every year some part of this sum-of half a million (I omit the odd seven thousand pounds, for the purpose of keeping the account unembarrassed) will fall in, and the whole of it in time, as it is on the ground of life annuities, except the in- creased pay of thirty-nine thousand pounds. As it falls in, a part of the taxes may be taken off; for instance, when thirty thousand pounds fall in, the duty on hops may be wholly taken off; and as other parts fall in, the duties on candles and soap may be lessened, till at last they will totally cease.—There now remains at least one million and a half of surplus taxes. The tax on houses and windows is one of those direct taxes, which, like the poor-rates, is not confounded with trade; and when taken of, the relief will be instantly felt. This tax falls heavy on the middle class of people. The amount of this tax by the returns of 1788, was, Houses and windows by the actof 1766 ...., £385,459 11s. 7d. “ by the act of L779" a 1. a ce i Oo ee otal: sb.) (seal BOLO OOy 8G. Oy If this tax be struck off, there will then remain about one million of surplus taxes, and as it is always proper to keep a sum in reserve, for incidental matters, it may be best not to extend reductions further, in the first instance, but to consider what may be accomplished by other modes of reform. Among the taxes most heavily felt is the commutation tax. IT shall, therefore, offer a plan for its abolition, by substituting another in its place, which will effect three objects at once: lst, That of removing the burden to where it can best be borne. ae 9nd, Restoring justice among families by distribution of property. 7 3rd, Extirpating the overgrown influence arising from the unnatural law of primogeniture, and which is one of the prin- cipal sources of corruption at elections. eae SES TRIE ANTES Ne ey OR e Tae SOS Pees Fs Pr rr ry Pero e re Sere ees! SEE eas) Sekes EARS LA TSR Oe ey freee eer tt 3 aR as as ea Be LB SECIS PREETI AN EVIL IE ST UNE TER ET eee er Bae ao cord aPererrriceari lores, et tes eee Stes And so on, adding Is. per pound on 426 RIGHTS OF MAN. The amount of the commutation tax by the returns of 1788 was £771,657 When taxes are proposed, the country is amused by the plausible language of taxing luxuries. One thing is called 2 luxury at one time, and something else at another; but the real luxury does not consist in the article, but in the means of procuring it, and this is always kept out of si ight. I know not why any plant or herb of the field should be a greater luxury in one country than another, but an over. grown estate in either is a luxury at all times, and, as such, is the proper object of taxation. It is, therefore, right to take those kind tax-making gentlemen up on their own “word, and argue on the principle ‘themselves have laid down, that of taxing ‘luwuries. Tf they, or their champion, Mr. Burke, who, [ fear, is growing out of date like the man in armor, can prove that an estate of twenty, thirty, or forty, thousand pounds a-year is not a luxury, I w il give up the argument. Admitting that a any annual sum, say, for instance, one thou- sand pounds, is necessary or suite lent for the support of a family, consequently the second thousand is of the nature of a luxury, the third still more so, and by proceeding on, we shall at last arrive at a sum that may not improperly be called a prohibitable luxury. It would be impolitie to set bounds t property acquired by industry, and therefore it is right ie place ie pro ohibition beyond the probable acquisition to which in- dustry can extend; but there ought to be a limit to property, or the accumulation of it | by bequest. It should pass in some other line. The richest in every nation have poor relations, and those often very near in consanguinity. The following table of progressive taxation is constructed on the above principles, and as a substitute for the commuta- tion tax. It will reach the point of prohibition by a regular operation, and thereby supersede the aristocratical ta of primogeniture. TABLE I. A tax on all estates of the clear yearly value of £50, after deducting the land tax, and up to £500. . . . Qs. 3d. per ' pound Brom £pU0 to 21000 & Aleck. AY ce eS Bea ee ae On the 2nd thousand . SU Ye se Oe ade ee eeu 0 9 "3 ee ot Bot ee fa lbis. lee a be ara ae eee 1.70 ni ath = plier eal tier Te eerie ns ee 1 6 ra every additional thousand.RIGHTS OF MAN. 427 At the twenty-third thousand the tex becomes twenty shil- lings in the pound, and, consequently, every thousand beyond that sum, can produce no profit but by dividing the estate. Yet, formidable as this tax appears, it will not, I believe, produce so much as the commutation tax; should it produce more, it ought to be lowered to that amount. upon estates under two or three thousand a-year. On small and middling estates it is lighter (as it is intended to be) than the commutation tax. It is not till after seven or eight thousand a-year, that it begins to be heavy. The object is not so much the produce of the tax as the justice of the meas- ure. The aristocracy has screened itself too much, and this serves to restore a part of the lost equilibrium. As an instance of its screening itself, it is only necessary to look back to the first establishment of the excise laws, at what is called the revolution, or the coming of Charles II. The aris- tocratical interest then in power, commuted the feudal services itself was under, by laying a tax on beer brewed for sale; that is, they compounded with Charles for an exemption from those services for themselves and their heirs, by a tax to be paid by other people. The aristocracy do not purchase beer brewed for sale, but brew their own beer free of the duty, and if any commu- tation at that time was necessary, it ought to have been at the expense of those for whom the exemptions from those services were intended;* instead of which, it was thrown on an entire different class of men. But the chief object of his progressive tax (besides the jus- tice of rendering taxes more equal then they are) is, as already stated, to extirpate the overgrown influence arising from the un- natural law of primogeniture, and which is one of the principal sources cf corruption at elections. It would be attended with no good consequences to inquire how such vast estates us thirty, forty, or fifty thousand a-year could commence, and that at a time when commerce and man- ufactures were not in a state to admit of such acquisitions. Let it be sufficient to remedy the evil by putting them in a condi- tion of descending again to the community by the quiet means of * The tax on beer brewed for sale, from which the aristocracy are exempt, ig almost one million more then the present commutation tax, being by the returns of 1788, £1,666,152—and, consequently, they ought to take on them- selves the amount of the commutation tax, as they are already exempted from one which is almost a million greater eee oe Kt he ye Se ESPEN eS PAT tt EP eee ee eee ety ee ek CST Le ee Re Ry te ee etl ia oda Bee ae Be a eat eet LE IR WEN ey BR Na LO RE ce OL ETE ehi Pe teers tii o PPh rae ate! eh rs iter, TESTE ILE. BAER EE + . itis Leirs a 428 RIGHTS OF MAN. apportioning them among all the heirs and heiresses of those families. This will be the more necessary, because hitherto the aristocracy have quartered their younger children and connex- ions upon the public, in useless posts, places and offices, which. when abolished, will leave them destitute, unless the law « primogeniture be also abolished or superseded. A progressive tax will, in a great measure, effect this object, and that as a matter of interest to the parties most imme diately concerned, as will be seen by the following table; which shows the nett produce upon every estate, after subtracting the tax. By this it will appear, that after an estate exceeds thirteen or fourteen thousand a-year, the remainder produces but little profit to the holder, and consequently, will either pass to the younger children or to other kindred. O] TABLE II, Showing the nett produce of every estate from one thousand to twenty-three thousand pounds a-year, No. of thousands | ! | per ann. Total tax subtracted. | Nett produce. £1,000 £21 | £979 2,000 59 | 1,941 3,000 109 2,891 | 4,000 184 3,861 5,000 284 4,716 { 6,000 434 5,566 7,000 634 | 6,366 8,000 880 | 7,120 | 9,000 1,180 | 7,820 | 10,000 1,530 8,470 11,000 1,930 9,070 12,000 2,380 | 9,620 13,000 2,880 10,120 14,000 3,43 10,570 15,000 4,030 10,970 16,000 4,680 11,320 | 17,000 5,380 11,620 18,000 6,130 11,870 19,000 6,83 2,170 20,000 7,780 12,220 21,000 8,680 12,320 \ 22,000 9,630 12.370 | 23,000 10,630 | 12,370 a eg ee eee et N.B.—The odd shillings are dropped with this table.RIGHTS OF MAN. 429 According to this table, an estate cannot produce more than £12,370 clear of the land tax, and the progressive tax, and herefore the dividing such estates will follow as a matter of family interest. An estate of £23,000 a-year, divided into five estates of four thousand each and one of three, will be charged only £1129 which is but five per cent., but if held by any one possessor, will be charged £10,630. Although an inquiry into the origin of those estates be un- necessary, the continuation of them in the present state is an- other subject. It is a matter of national concern. As heredi- tary estates, the law has created the evil, and it ought also to provide the remedy. Primogeniture ought to be abolished, not only because it is unnatural and unjust, but because the coun- try suffers by its operation. By cutting off (as before observed) the younger children from their proper portion of inheritance, 1 ‘ the public is loaded with the expense of maintaining them ; and ‘ the freedom of elections violated by the overbearing influence which this unjust monopoly of family property produces. Nor is this all. It occasions a waste of national property. A con- siderable part of the land of the country is rendered unpro- ductive by the great extent of parks and chases which this law serves to keep up, and this at a time when the annual pro- duction of grain is not equal to the national consumption. *—In short, the evils of the aristocratical system are so great and ‘umerous, so inconsistent with everything that is just, wise, natural and beneficent, that when they are considered, there ought not to be a doubt that many, who are now classed under at description, will wish to see such a system abolished. What pleasure can they derive from contemplating the ex- 1 J j ny la posed condition, and almost certain beggary of their younger offspring? Every aristocratical family has an appendage of family beggars hanging round it, which in a few ages or a few cenerations, are shook off, and console themselves with telling their tale in alms-houses, work-houses, and prisons. This is the natural consequence of aristocracy. The peer and the beggar are often of the same family. One extreme produces the other: to make one rich many must be made poor ; neither can the system be supported by other means. There are two classes of people to whom the laws of England are particularly hostile, and those the most helpless; younger children, and the poor. Of the former T have just spoken; of % See the ‘‘ Reports on the Corn Trade.” Satsese Teste SSEeaes sestke as ep LGPL TIT ET RDI TE STR ET A ES RE SNC SS SES bts ee, a SR Se cas a OERte etek et peeteedsieliae oT; Potter eee) etteds PTT PSEC eT BE’ - -_ rite 4d biihiins 430 RIGHTS OF MAM. f ¥ a a 1 e latter I shall mention one instance out of the many that cet be produced, aa with which | phall close this subject Ch 1¢ "Be ers law ara mn owt ranra for > O° le NO «s id lin + x reral 1aws are In exirsvence If0l] egulat ting ana jimi 5 ; ; Wroh-wo : ‘ ance . | VYOorkmen s Wages. YY NY Ii eave the m as rree oO make fe A x Vind Lt - Ta own barge: a to let their Tarms ‘ ele l 7 1 houses yroperty they Dave : 1 104 : : is that } 1ey enjoy, to bel Po 7 : 1 4 but tl ub we COnsIiGce! 1€ atinn + é = } a ote .tion and es are fixed by what 1 yllad « wt 4 ns x7} Call 1 stvatvlonal » wih se > > Yy > se L va x We } 1} CNINnGS CLs8é ) POL TCssit 1d aS tMOSse WN0O make tha ~ +, Y r il y ] vn x INCIN UE ) y On ax D ovuner laws, 1 y TAC — in ee a eee ae De i a ee aes ae 1] ao 1 expense ot living by one law, and take away the means by Es T ~ anotner ¥ 1 y ] os Du I 1S Nnviemen LwW-MaKker 4 7 : 4 wa be ont to limit tne poor pittance wit ) i } 7 J 7 a y } # gqguce. ana On WRAICO a Wh € 1m! 3 j 5 . 1 c 1 } j 7 tainly must feel themselves happily 1} : C } 1 twneir own par ( hot 1ess than 1 ’ 2 +e ] > tnat Of property they never acquir 1 ancestors), and of which tney Hee e ini the severa! particulars into one view, and Hien procee ci to ous matters. The first eight articles are brought forward from p. 423. lst Aboli iti ion of two millions of poor-rates. or two hundred ne fifty-two thousand poor four pounds per head for each child age; which, with the addition of two 1ousand pounds, provides also education for 7 rty thousand children. under fourte hundred and fifty one million and thi ord. Annuity of six pounds per annum each for all poor persons, decayed tradesmen and others, supposed seventy thou- sand, of the age of fifty years, and until sixty. ae a of ten pounds each for life for all poor per- sons, decayed tradesmen and others, supposed seventy thousand, yf tha ‘ or 4 Qj 4 rT Veare OT tie as of SIXT y Y Ge Id. e th. Donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thousand h. Donation of twenty shillings each for twenty thousa marriage 7th. “Mile wasios of twenty thousand pounds for the funer fpooad RIGHTS OF MAN. 43 apenses of persons travelling f ok, ¢ ri ta di : persons travelling for work, and dying at a distance ‘om their friends. Sth. Employment at all times for the casual poor in the ties of London and Westminster. ~ - j meconda enumery ration: Q;-] Ra sas ee OC Pe geen ay Sth, Abolition of the tax on houses and win do WS. 1 Ot! Avi) t f ree e 1° . ' Y nos ar ¢ for | a4. th. Allo ee shillings per week for life to fifteen san< 1 ) Lace fannie vee nate > iAae . + and « liers, and a pau gamiiee ia allowance to be officers of t ded corps. { incre: to the remain nnua 14] Niece ee 1] ey Tat iZth. ‘Lhe same allowance to the disb ume increase of pay as to the army 24] Mt oe coe eee ee loth. Apolition or the commutation tax. 4th Plan of 3, nrocres ive tax oa t mahaete ht +} i an L progres C Vax pe U E ave tne — not Tae utely present themselve;: 1 be wanted will admit of a further reduction of that amount. the claims th at 1usti > iva + b \ Ja +} 2 ie 1g claims that justice requires to be made, the con When inquiries are made into the condition of the poor, various degrees of distress will most probs bly be found, to render a different arrangement preferable to that which is alr ready p roposed. Widows with families will be in greater want than where there are husbands 1 iving. There is also a dif- ference in the expense of living in different countries—and more so in fuel. Suppose fifty thousand extraordinary cases, at the rate of ten pounds per farnily P' LAN ee et ee ee 0 0L000 es, at £8 per family peramn. . . - + se es 80, U00 ae at £7 oe oe wf Wel eer ae ape ce 700, ( 00 per’. i: 520, 0U0 gs per bead for the education of other : i ad 1illin childre +0) ie fifty iii rs er f tk t pu 3 aiden, | to allow fifty shillings per family forthat purpese 2 Pf ei 950 to fifty Ghousancd families: oie, ey fee ee oe { ,000 2,770,000 140; 000.aged: persons. as before . 60 ey 6 je a pce eel es LD 08 "Total (24.44 so, ood Un -anzemens amonnts to the same sum as stated 000 for eivcation: but it provides ee four huadred and Lr tiscncand families, which is almos ON ne eal n p. 420, including 1e agea re ople) s¢ one-third of u th Pe ee a SAORI aE a PETrier sate ae bl att tae EST etre stt th RIGHTS OF MAN. dition of the inferior revenue officers will merit attention. 11 is a reproach to any government to waste such an immensity of revenue in sinecures and nominal and unnecessary places and offices, and not allow even a decent livelihood to those on whom the labor falls. The salary of the inferior officers of the revenue has stood at the petty pittance of less than fifty pounds a-year, for upwards of one hundred years. It ought to be seventy. About one hundred and twenty thousand pounds applied to this purpose will put all those salaries in a decent condition. This was proposed to be done almost twenty years ago, but the treasury board then in being, startled at it, as it might lead to similar expectations from the army and navy; and the event was that the king, or somebody for him, applied to par lament to have his own salary raised a hundred thousand pounds a-year, which being done, everything else was laid aside. With respect to another class of men, the inferior clergy, | forbear to enlarge on their condition; but all partialities and prejudic es for or against, different modes and forms of religton aside, common justice will determine whether there ought to be an income of twenty or thirty pounds a-year to one man and of ten thousand to another. I speak on this'subject with the more freedom, because I am known not to be a Presbyter- ian; and therefore the cant cry of court sycophants, about church and meeting, kept up to amuse and bewilder the nation, cannot be raised against me. Ye simple men on both sides the question, do you not see through this courtly craft? If ye can be kept disputing and wrangling about church and meeting, ye just answer the pur- pose of every courtier, who lives a while on the spoil of the taxes, and laughs at your credulity.—Every religion is good that teaches man to be good ; and I know of none that in- structs him to be bad. All the beforementioned calculations, suppose only sixteen millions and an half of taxes paid inte the exchequer, after the »xpense of collection and drawbacks at the custom-house and excise-office are deducted ; whereas the sum paid into the ex- chequer is very nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions. The taxes raised in Scotland and Ireland are expended in those countries, and therefore their savings will come out of their own taxes: but if any part be paid into the English exchequer, itRIGHTS @F MAN. 4:33 y might be remitted.—This will not make one hundred thousand pounds a year difference. There now remains only the national debt to be considered. e the te 1789, the interest, exclusive of the tontine, was £9 15071 How much the capital has been reduced since that ae a minister best knows. But after paying the in- terest, abolishing the tax on houses and windows, the commut- ation tax and the poor-rates, and making all the provisions for the poor, for the education of children, the support of the aged, the dishanidet part of the army and navy, and increasing the pay of the remail nder, there will be a surplus of one million. The present scheme of pay ing off the national debt appears to me, speaking as an indifferent person, to be an ill-concer ‘ted, r i{ if not a fallacious job. The burden of the national debt con- 1 not in its being so many millions, or so n tany hundred millions. but in the quantity of taxes collected every year to pay the interest. If this quantity continues the same. the burden of the national debt is the same to all intents and pur- poses, be the capital more or less.—_The only knowledge which the puplic can have of the reduction of the debt, must be through the reduction of taxes for paying. the interest. The debt, therefore, is not reduced one fs arthing to the public by all the millions that been paid ; and it would require as "e money now to purchase up the capital, t Digressing for a moment at t turn again, I look minister. 1. when the kee began. point, to which I shall re- back to the so tcnenn of Mr. Pitt, as han his n America. The war was over; and though re- entment had ceased, memory was still alive. i was then When the news of the coalition arrived, though it was a matter of no concern to me as a citizen of America, I felt it as aman. It had something in it which shocked, by public] sporting with decency, if not with principle. It w aS | hiueteties in Lord North: it was a want of firmness in Mr. Fox. Mr. Pitt was, at that time, what may be called a maiden character in politi ics. So far from being hackneyed, he appeared not to be initiated into the first mysteries of court intrigue. Everything was in hisfavor. Resentment against the coalition served as friendship to him, and his ignorance of vice was credited for virtue. With the return of peace, commerce and prosperity would rise of itself; yet even this increase was thrown to his account. 23 ais Sesigagadegagse $sszp3hes Peso Sots ae Sneed ehece LEE TT RL RE AIT EE ARGO NET ae YLT TERE NS ELEY EET IER TTT ETS PSST L T SGESPee ritinis tis bah hl bho bis | Sespee S SELBADE IG LLIB LILES eet ttt: Th ‘ Pec Tic tetre eT it Utter 434 RIGHTS OF MAN. When he came to the helm, the storm was over, and he had nothing to interrupt his course. [t required even ingenuity to be wrong, and he succeeded. A little time showed him the same sort of man as his predecessors had been. Instead of profiting by those errors which had accumulated a burden of leled in the world, he sought, I might almost say, enemies, and provoked means to increase tax- ation. Aiming at something, he knew not what, he ransacked Europe and India for adventures, and abandoning the fair pre- tensions he began with, became the knight-errant of modern taxes unparal he advertised for times. It is unpleasant to see character throw itself away. It is Mr. Pitt had merited no- more so to see one’s self deceived. ave symptoms of a mind thing, but he promised much. He g + to the meanness and corruption of courts. His appar ent candor encouraged expectations ; and the public confidence, stunned, wearied, and confounded by a chaos of parties, revived and attached itself to him. But mistaking, as he has done, the ust of the nation against the coalition for merit in himself, o measures which a man less supported would superl cise he has rushed int not have presumed to act. All this seems to show that change of ministers amounts to nothing. One goes out, another comes in, and still the same measures, vices, and extravagance are pursued. It signifies not who is minister. The defect lies in the system. The foundation and the superstructure of the government is bad. Prop itas you please, it continually sinks into court government and ever will. I return, as I promised, to the subject of the national debt that offspring of the Anglo-Dutch revolution, and its handmaid. the Hanover succession. But it is now too late to inquire how it began. ‘Those to | S whom it is due have advanced the money; and whether it was well or ill spent, or pocketed, is not their crime.—lIt is, howe ver, easy to see, that as the nation proceeds in contemplating the nature and principles of government, and to understand taxes and make comparisons between those of America, France, and England, it will be next to impossible to keep it in the same Some reform must, from the necessity of the case, soon begin. It 1s not whether these prin- or much force in the present moment. . abroad in the world, and no force can fa torpid state it has hitherto been. ciples press with little They are out. They ar stop them. Like a secret told, they are beyond recall: and bRIGHTS OF MAN. 4.25 must be blind indeed that does not see that a change is already beginning, Nine millions of dead taxes is a seriou only for bad, but in a great measure By putting the power of making 8 thing; and this not for foreign government. var into ie hands of the fore 1gners who came for what they could get, little else was to be expected than what ns happened. Reasons are already advanced in this work, showing that ek whatever the reforms in oe taxes may be, they ought to be made in the éurrent expenses of. government, and 1 not in the p art applied to the interest of the national debt,—] the taxes of the poor, they will be Wiit —By remitting totally relieved and all dis- content will be taken away; and by taXeS as are alreax dy mentione sd, the nation will more than re- cover the whole expense of the mad American war. There will then remain only the national debt 2 asas sub striking off such of the Las ect or bee disc ontent, and in order to remove, or rather to prevent this. it } would be good policy i in the stockholders uae es to consider it as property, subject, like all other property, to bear some por- tion of the taxes. It would give to it both popularity and security, and, as a great part of its present inconvenience is balanced by the c capital which it keeps alive, a measure of this kind ay so far add to that balanes as to silence ebjections, This may be done by such gradual means as to accomplish a that is necessar y with the greatest ease and convenience. Instead of taxing the capital, the best method would be to tax the interest by some progressive ratio, and to lessen the public taxes in the same proportion as the interest diminished, qmnpnese the interest was taxed one halfpenny in the pound ' first year, a penny more the second, and to proceed by a ae ratio to be determined upon, always less than any other tax upon property. Such a tax would be subtracted from the interest at the time of payment, without any expense of collection. One halfpenny in the pound would lessen the interest, and consequently the taxes, twenty thousand pounds. The tax on wagons amounts to this sum, and this tax might be taken off the first year. The second year the tax on female servants, or some other of the like amount might also be taken off, and by it. € J ¥ ceeding in this manner, alwavs ax pplying the tax raised from | , Trp we » proper ty of the debt ‘gh oes its extinction, and not Carry ng it to the current services, 1t would liberate itse! age Pea ee rere eT ee Fe PRE AE SENET aa BPS SOUS WARES PTYPrirtreracear aici ye. P= ¢ pA hd Le 7 = & Be a #8 on <4 Tee ESO PERC SR EE ec eerey TTT $34; Pere iet cece’ 436 RIGHTS OF MAN. The stockholders, notwithstanding this tax, would pay less taxes than they do now. What they would save by the extinc- tion of the poor-rates, and the tax on houses and windows, and the commutation tax, would be considerably greater than what this tax, slow, but cer san in its operation, ‘amounts to. fe appears to me to be prudence to look out for measures that may apply 1 under any circumstance that may approach. There is, at this moment, a crisis in the affairs of Europe that requires it. Pre yparation now is wisdom. [If taxation be once let loo se, it will be difficult to reinstate it; neither would the relief be so effectual, as if it proceeded by some tertain and gradual reduction. The fraud, hypocrisy, and imposition o now beginning to be too well understood to promise them any longer career. ‘The farce of monarchy and aristocracy, in all countries, is following that of chivalry, and Mr. Burke is dress- ing for the funeral. Let it then pass quietly to the tomb of all fis f governments are other follies, and the mourners be comforted. The time is not very distant, when England will laugh at itself for sending to Holland, Hanover, Zell, or Brunswick for men, at the expense of a million a-year, who understood neither her laws, her language, nor her interest, and whose capacities would scarcely have fitted them for the ofies of a parish con- stable. If government could be trusted to such hands, it must be some easy and simple thing indeed, and materials fit for all the purposes may be found in every town and village in Eng- land. When it shall be said in any country in the world, my poor are happy; neither ignorance nor distress is to be found among them; my jails are empty of prisoners, my streets, of beggars the aced are not in want, the taxes are rfot oppressive: the rational world is my friend, } secause I am the friend of its happiness: when these things can be said, then may that country boast of its constitution and its government. Within the space of a few years we have seen two revolutions, those of America and France. In the former, the contest was long and the conflict severe; in the latter, the nation acted with such a consolidated impulse, that having no foreign enemy to contend with, the revolution was complete in power the mo- ment it appeared. From both those instances, it is evident that the greatest forces that can be brought into the field of revolutions are reason and common interest. Where these canRIGHTS OF MAN. 437 have the opportunity of acting, opposition dies with fear, or crumbles away by conviction. It is a great standing which they have now universally obtained ; and we may hereafter hope to see revolutions, or changes in governments, produced with the same quiet operation by which any measure, determin- able by reason and discussion, is accomplished. When a nation changes its opinion and habits of thinking, it is no longer to be eoverned as before; but it would not only be wrong, but bad policy, to attempt by force what ought to be accomplished by reason. Rebellion consists in forcibly opposing the general will of a nation, whether by a party or by a govern- ment. ‘There ought, therefore, to be in every nation a method of occasionally ascertaining the state of public opinion with re- spect to government. On this point the old government of France was superior to the present government of England, because, on extraordinary occasions, recourse could be had to what was then called the states-general. But in England there are no such occasional bodies; and as to those who are now called representatives, a great pane of them are mere machines of the court, placemen a and dependants. I presume, that though all the people of England pay taxes, not a hundredth part of them are electors, and the members of one of the houses of parliament represent nobody but them- selves. There is, therefore, no power but the voluntary will of the people that has a right to act in any matter respecting a general reform; and by the same right that two persons can confer on such a subject, a thousand may. The object, in all such preliminary proc eedings, is to find out what the general sense of a nation is, and to be governed by it. Ifit prefer a bad or defective government to a reform, or choose to pay ten times more taxes than there is any occasion for, it has a right so to do: and so long as the majority do not impose conditions on the minority, different from what they impose upon themselves, though there may be much error, there is no injustice. Newhes vill the error continue long. Reason and discussion will soon bring things right, however. wrong they may begin. By sucha process no tumult is to be apprehe ended. The poor, in all countries, are naturally both peaceable and grateful in all re- forms in which their interest and happiness are included. It is only by neglecting and rejecting them that they become tumultuous. The objects that now press on the public attention are, the STRAT Sts tee ets er it es Ee Peer eee yet ss 5 ch ed cede en bee Lt RELA RITA BT NB TIE ERRORS CT NS YO a Sat ke Skt Seno: reer pa Se Pere Tr at Sol le IE RO NEAL NL NIL EN TONE ET oa Te TE SYST EET TI STORIE VS REESETeil ti pistal ely. Ted eee tics) 438 RIGHTS OF MAN. French revolution, and the prospect of a general revolution in governments. Of all nations in Europe there is none so much interested in the French revolution as England. Enemies for ages, and that at a vast expense, and without any national! ob- ee the opportu lity now presents itself of amicably closing the ; : cL s scene, and joining their e sfiante to reform the 1 est of murope. DY doing this they will not only prevent t the further effusion of f 7 blood and increase of taxes, but be in a condition of getting 3 re - 1) d Luc 7 eat 1 ' "i ya d of a siderable part of their present burdens, as has been 1 1 t : | + 1 . already ‘Long experience, however, has shown that re forms of this kind are not those which old governments wish to promote, and therefore, 1t 1s to nations, and not to such govern ments, that these matters present tnonemselves. In the preceding part of this work, I have spoken of an alliance between England, France, and America for purposes that were to be afterwards mpB et Though I have no direct authority on the part of America, I have good reason to conclude that she is disposed | to enter into a consideration of such a measure, provided that the governments with which she might ally, acted as national governments, and not as courts enveloped in intrigue and mystery. That France asa nation and a national government, would prefer an alliance with England, is a matter of certainty. Nations, like indi- viduals, who have long been enemies, without knowing each other, or knowing why, become better friends when they dis- cover the errors and impositions under which they had acted. Admitting, therefore, the probability of such a connexion, | will state some matters by which such an alliance, together with that of Holland, might render service, not only to the parties immediately convened but to all parts of Europe. [It is, I think, quite certain, that if the fleets of England, France, and Holland were confederated, they could propose, with effect, a limitation to, and a general dismantling of, all ‘the navies in Europe, to a certain proportion to be agreed upon. Ist, That no new ship of war shall be built by any power in Europe, themselves included. 2nd, That all the navies now in existence shall be put back, suppose, to one-tenth of their present force. This will save to France and England, each, at least two millions annually, and their relative force be in the same proportion as it is now. If men will permit themselves to think, as rational beings ought to think, nothing can appear more ridiculous and absurd, ex-RIGHTS OF MAN. 439 elusive of all moral reflections, than to be at the expense of building navies, filling them with men, and then hauling them into the ocean, to try which can sink each other fastest. Peace, which costs nothing, is attended with infinitely more advantage than any victory with all its expense. But this, though it best answers the purpose of nations, does not that of court governments, whose habieual policy is pretence for taxa- tion, place s and offices. itis, I think, also certain that the above confederated powers, together with that of the United States of America, can pro- pose, with effect, to Spain, the independence ot South America, and the opening those countries of = imense extent and he to the general commerce of the world, as . North America now is. With how much more glory, and advantag e to itself, eee a nation act, when it exerts its powers to rescue the world from bondage, and to create to itself friends, than when it emy ploys those powers to increase ruin, desolation and misery. The horrid scene that is now acting by the English government in the East Indies, is fit male to be told of Goths and Vandals, who, destitute of Bret le, robbed and tortured the world which they were incapable of enjoying. The opening of South America would produce an immense field for commerce, and a ready money market for manufac- tures, which the eastern world does not. The East is already a country of manufactures, the importation of which is not only an injury to the manufactures of England, but a drain upon its specie. The balance against England by this trade is regularly upw vards of half a million annually sent out in the Base India ships in silver; and this is the reason, together with German ieee and German subsidies, that there. is so little silver in England. But any war is harvest to such governments, however ruinous it may be to a nation. It serves to keep up geccwns expec- tations, which prevent people t trom looking into the defects and abuses of government. It is the lo here/ and the lo there/ that amuses and cheats the multitude. Never did so great an opportunity offer itself to England, and to all Europe, as is produced by the two revolutions of America and France. By the former, freedom has a national champion in the western w orld; and by the latter, in Europe. When another nation shall join France, despotism and bad government will scarcely dare to appear. To use a trite ex- PR ETL Se 2% eRe a Pt a ee Pee ed See Sy = 4 ear at ee es Be SOLER WES ey REGIE PPLE Sa eAMP OItI PL Li saa arate ra eer lire Tt, ey Pee ease Ertl iittt rt isie 440 RIGHTS OF MAN. pression, the iron is becoming hot all over Europe. The in- sulted German and the enslaved Spaniard, the Russ and the Pole are beginning to think. The present age will hereafter merit to be called the Age of Reason, and the present gene- ration will appear to the future as the Adam of a new world. When all the governments of Kurope shall be established on the representative system, nations will become acquainted, and the animosities and prejudices fomented by the intrigues and artifice of courts, will cease. The oppressed soldier will become a freeman; and the tortured sailor. no longer drageed through the streets like a felon, will pursue his mercantile voyage in safety. 1t would be better that nations should continue the pay of their soldiers during their lives, and give them their dis charge and restore them to freedom and their friends, and cease recruiting, than retain such multitudes at the same expense, in a condition useless to society and to themselves. As soldiers have hitherto been treated in most countries, they might be said to be without a friend. Shunned by the citizens on an apprehension of their being enemies to liberty, and too often insulted by those who commanded them, their condition was a double oppression. But where genuine principles of liberty pervade a people, everything is restored to order: and the soldier civilly treated, returns the civility In contemplating revolutions, it is easy to perceive that they may arise from two distinct causes; the one, to avoid or get rid of some great calamity, the other, to obtain some great and posi- tive good; and the two may be distinguished by the names of active and passive revolutions. In those which proceed from the former cause, the temper becomes incensed and soured; and the redress, obtained by danger, is too often sullied by revenge. But in those which proceed from the latter, the heart, rather animated than agitated, enters serenely upon the subject. Reason and discussion, persuasion and conviction, become the weapons in the contest, and it is only when those are atte mpted to be suppressed that recourse is had to violence. When meu unite in agreeing that a thing 2s good, could it be obtained, such for instance as relief from a burden of taxes and the extinction of corruption, the object is more than half accomplished. What they approve as the end, they will promote in the means. Will any man say in the present excess of taxation, falling so heavily on the poor, that a remission of five pounds annually of taxes to one hundred and four thousand poor families ig notRIGHTS OF MAN. 44) a good thing? Will he say that a remission of seven pounds annually to one hundred thousand other poor families; of eight pounds annually to another hundred thousand poor families, and of ten pounds annually to fifty thousand poor and widowed families are not good things? And to proceed a step further in this climax, will he say, that to provide against the misfortunes to which all human life is subject, by securing six pounds annually for all poor, distressed, and reduced persons of the age of fifty and until sixty, and of ten pounds annually after sixty, is not a good thing ? Will he say, that an abolition of two millions of poor-rates to the houskeepers, and of the whole of the house and window- light tax and of the commutation tax is not a good thing? Or will he say, that to abolish corruption is a bad thing ? If, therefore, the good to be obtained be worthy of a passive, rational, and costless revolution, it would be bad policy to pre- fer waiting a calamity that should force a violent one. I have no idea, considering the reforms which are now passing and spreading throughout Europe, that England will permit herself to be the last; and where the occasion and the opportunity quietly offer, it is better than to wait for a turbulent necessity. It may be considered as an honor to the animal faculties of man to ob- tain redress by courage and danger; but it is far greater honor to the rational faculties to accomplish the same object by rea- son, accommodation, and general consent.* As reforms, or revolutions, call them which you please, extend themselves among nations, those nations will form connexions and conventions, and when a few are thus confederated, the * I know it is the opinion of many of the most enlightened characters in France (there always will be those who see further into events than others), not only among the general mass of citizens, but of many of the principal members of the national assembly, that the monarchical plan will not con- tinue many years in that couutry. They have found out that, as wisdom cannot be hereditary, power ought not—and that for a man to merit a million sterling a-year from a nation, he ought to have a mind capable of compre- hending from an atom to a universe, which, if he had, he would be above receiving the pay. But they wished not to appear to lead the nation faster than its own reason and interest dictated. In all the conversations where I have been present upon this subject, the idea always was, that when such a time, from the general opinion of the nation, shall arrive, that the honorable and liberal method would be, to make a handsome present in fee simple to the person, whoever he may be, that shall then be in the monarchical office, and for him to retire to the enjoyment of private life, possessing his share of general rights and privileges, and to be no more accountable to the public for his time and his conduct than any other citizen. ° reed na oa pester! 233 cpa ee ee te | Poe er rt tt = BRS HDR SPOR FE TSMitre rir ea rir Tart ra? de Th Lh LT hee 442 RIGHTS OF MAN. progress will be rapid, till despotism and corrupt government be totally expelled, at least out of two quarters of. the world, Europe and America. The Algerine piracy may then be com- manded to cease, for it is only by the malicious policy of old governments against each other that it exists. Throughout this work, various and numerous as the subjects are, which I have taken up and investigated, there is only a single paragraph upon religion, viz. “that every religion is good that teaches man to be good. ” I have carefully avoided to enlarge upon the subject, because [ am inclined to believe that what is called the present ministry wish to see contentions about religion kept up to prevent the nation turning its attention to subjects of government. Itisas if they were to say, “ look that way, or any way but this.” But as religion is ver y improperly made a political machine, and the reality of it is therel »y destroyed, I will conclude this work with stating in what light religion appears to me. If we suppose a large family of children, who, on any particu- lar day, or particular occasion, made it a custom to presen to their parents some token of their affection and gratitude, each oS them would make a different offering, and most probab ly in a ditferent manner. Some would pay their congratulations in ers ot verse and prose, by some little devices, as their genius dictated, or according to what they thought wouid please ; and, perhaps, the least of all, not able to do any-of those things, would ramble into the garden, or the field, and gather what it thought the prettiest fous it could find, though per- haps, it might be but a simple weed. The parents a be more gratified by such a variety, than if the whole of them had acted on a concerted plan, and each had made exactly the same offering. This would have the cold appearance of contrivance, or the harsh one of control. But of all unwelcome things, noth- ing would more afflict the parent than to know, that the whole Ne them had afterwards gotten together by the ears, boys and girls, fighting, reviling, and abusing each other about which was the best or the w orst present. Why may we not suppose that the great Father, of ail is pleased with variety of devotion ; and that the greatest offence we can act, 1s that by which we seek to torment and render each other miserable? For my own part, I am fully satisfied that what [ am now doing, with an endeavor to conciliate mankind. to render their condition happy to unite nations that havehitherto been enemies, and to extirpate the horrid practice of Z ‘ Zl As a sae 3 e . war, and break the chains of slavery and oppression, is accept- able in his sight, and being the best service I can perform, I act it cheerfully, | I do not believe that an y two men, on what are called doc- trinal points, think alike, who think atall. ITtis only those who LE not thought that appear to agree. It is in this case as with what is called the British constitution. It has been taken for granted to be good, and encomiums have supplied the place of os > : : : é Peis proot. But when the nation comes to examine into principles and the abuses it admits, it will be found to have more defect than I have pointed out in this work and the former. »> As to what are called national religions, we may, with as much propriety, talk of national gods. Itis either political craft or the remains of the pagan system, when every nation had its separate particular deity. Among all the writers of the English church clergy, who have treated on the general subject of relig- ion, the present Bishop of Llandaff has not been excelled, and it is with much pleasure that I take this opportunity of express- ing this token of respect. I have now gone through the whole of the subject, at least, as far asit appears to meat present. It has been my intention for the five years I have been in Europe to offer an address to the people of England on the subject of government, if the opportunity presented itself before I returned to America. Mr. Burke has thrown it in my way, and I thank him. On a certain occasion, three years ago, I pressed him to propose a national convention, to be fairly elected, for the pur- pose of taking the state of the nation into consideration ; but I found that however strongly the parliamentary current was then setting against the party he acted with, their policy was to keep everything within that field of corruption, and trust to accidents Long experience had shown that parliaments would follow any change of ministers, and on this they rested their hopes and their expectations. Formerly, when divisions arose respecting governments, re- course was had to the sword, and a civil war ensued. That savage custom is exploded by the new system, and reference is had to national conventions. Discusssion and the general will arbitrates the question, and to this, private opinion yields with a good grace, and order is preserved uninterrupted. Some gentlemen have affected to call the principles upon which this work and the former part of the “‘ Rights of Man” RIGHTS OF MAN. 443 SgS2h5S94-2 Peres tees Peret eis erer ees Ro Sake De ee Sehece ce ep cbesmeaesccasaas Ok 2 rp oer So 23s Ee geebpaR tee eedsiciviess eo he od sedeieits é Pree a 4 4i4i RIGHTS OF MAN. are founded, “a new-fangled doctrine.” The question is noi whether these principles are new or old, but whether they are right or wrong. Suppose the former, I will show their effect by a tigure easily understood. It is now towards the middle of February. Were I to take a turn into the country, the trees would present a leafless, win- tery appearance. As people are apt to pluck twigs as they go along, I perhaps might do the same, and by chance might ob serve, that a single bud on that twig had begun to swell. 1 should reason very unnaturally, or rather not reason at all, to suppose this was the only bud in England which had this ap- pearance. Instead of deciding thus, I should instantly conclude that the same appearance was beginning, or about to begin, everywhere ; and though the vegetable sleep will continue lon ger on some trees and plants than on others, and though some of them may not b/ossom for two or three years, all will be in leaf in the summer, except those which are rotten, What pace the political summer may keep with the natural, no human foresight can determine. It is, however, not difficult to perceive that the spring is begun. Thus wishing, as I sincerely do, freedom and happiness to all nations, I close the SECOND PART.RIGHTS OF MAN. APPENDIX. As the publication of this work has been delayed beyond the time intended, I think it not improper, all circumstances con- sidered, to state the causes that have occasioned that delay. The reader will probably observe, that some parts in the plan contained in this work for reducing the taxes, and certain parts in Mr. Pitt’s speech at the opening of the present session, Tuesday, January 31, are so much alike, as to induce a belief, that either the author had taken the hint from Mr. Pitt, or Mr. Pitt from the author.—I will first point out the parts that are similar, and then state such circumstances as I am acquainted with, leaving the reader to make his own conclusion. Considering it as almost an unprecedented case, that taxes should be proposed to be taken off, it is equally extraordinary that such a measure should occur to two persons at the same time; and still more so (considering the vast variety and multi- plicity of taxes), that they should hit on the same specific taxes. Mr. Pitt has mentioned, in his speech, the tax on carts and wag- gons ; that on female servants; the lowering the tax on candles nd the taking off the tax of three shillings on houses having under seven windows. Every one of those specific taxes are a part of the plan con- tained in this work, and proposed also to be taken off. Mr. Pitt’s plan, it is true, goes no further than to a reduction of three hundred and twenty thousand pounds; and the reduction proposed in this work, to nearly six millions. IT have made my calculations on only sixteen millions and a half of revenue, still asserting that it was very nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions. Mr. Pitt states it at £16,690,000. I know enough of the matter to say, that he has not over-stated it. Having e particulars, which correspond in this work and thus given th h, I will state a chain of circumstances that may and his speec lead to some explanation. The first hint for lessening the taxes, and that as a conse- the French revolution, is to be found in claration of the gentlemen who met at the Among many other quence flowing from the Address and De Thatched-House tavern, August 20, 4791" oa +s Se ees ope vhs riser rere: eres gitar tt et cs AI PIL Be a3 eee re er eee aeie ge EMESIS ARETE TE RRO SPELT TE OE ETE PRONTO TREE ee EAro TTieea? itis titi s talaga ee bt he bee * 2 : it GhiaRbiecc ita R thededipeceds Pee ei rae tbe le ia tier tity SE et ist ie oda teat SAG RIGHTS OF MAN. particulars stated in that address, is the following, put as an interrogation to the government opposers of the French revolu- o “Are they sorry that the pretence for new oppressive taxes, ud the occasion for continuing hae old vaxes will be at an end?” "Ted is well |] known, that the persons who chiefly frequent the Thatched-House tavern, are men of court connexions, and so much did they take this address and declaration respecting the french revolution, and thie eiiaetton of taxes, in disgust, that the landlord was under the necessity of informing the gentle- men who composed the meeting of the 20th of August, and who proposed holding another meeting, that he could not receive them.* What was only hinted in the address and declaration respect: ing taxes end princi iples of government, will be found feat iced to a regular system in this work. But as Mr. Pitt’s speech contains some of the same things respecting taxes, I now come to give the circumstances before alluded to. The case is this: This work was intended to be publishe just g of parliament, and for that purpose a considerable part of the copy was put into the printer’s hands in September, and all the remaining copy, as far as page 348, which contains the part to which Mr. Pitt’s speech is similar, e meeting of parlia 7 Lat, ra + » y a4 oerore tie meetil } i inp ul was given to him full six weeks before th ment, and he was informed of the time at which it was to appear. He had composed nearly the whole about a fortnight before the time of p arliament’s meeting, and had printed as far as page 301, and had given me a proof of the next sheet, up to pace 320. It was then in sufficient forwardness to be out at the time > proposec d, as two other sheets were ready for striking «The gentleman who signed the | wlan and declaration as chairman of the meeting, Mr. Horne Tooke, being generally supposed to be the person who drew it up, and having spoken much in commend: ition of it, has been ee ales accused of pre sats x his own work. ‘To free him from this embar- rassment, and to save him the ie} yeated trouble of mentioning the author, as Le nas not failed to do, I make no hesitation in saying, that . 1e Opportunity of benefiting by the F tay revolution easily occurred to me, I drew up the publication in question, and showed it to him and some othe ar gentleme en ; who, fully appr oving it, held a meeting for the purpose of making it public and su Lbs¢ ribed to the amount of fifty guineas to defray the expens e of adver- tisine. I believe there are at this time i in Engi: and a greater number of men acting on ees acetic princivles, and determined to look into th e nature and pane oe} of government themselves, and not blandly trust, as has hither- to been the case, either to government generally, or to parliaments, or to parhamentary opposition, than at any former period. Had this been dore ® century ago, corruption and taxation had not arrived to the height the are now at.RIGHTS OF MAN. 4.47 off. I had before told him, that if he thought he choatd be straitened for time, I could get part of the work done at an- ther press, w hich he desired me not to do. In this manner the work stood on the Tuesday fortnight preceding the meet- ing of parliament, when all at onee, without any previous inti- mation, though I had been with him the eve ening before, he sent me by one of his workmen, all the remaining copy, from page 301, declining to go on with the work on any consideration. ~ To account for this extraordinary conduct I was totally at a loss, as he stopped at the part where the arguments on systems and. pi oeP les of government closed, and where the pian for the reduction of taxes, the education of chil lren, and the sup- port of ac poor and the aged b egins ; and still more especia lly, as he had, at the time of his begi nning to print, and before he | seen the whole copy, offered a fenadad pounds for the ‘opyright, together with the future copyright of the former part of the “‘ Rights of Man.” TI told the person who brought me this offer that I should not accept it, and wished it not to be renewed, giving him as my reason, that though I believed hac the printer to be an honest man, I would never put it in the power of any printer or publisher to suppress or alter a work of mine, by making him master of the copy, or give to him the right of selling it toany minister, or to any other person, or to treat as a mere matter of traffic that which I intended should operate as a principle. His refusal to complete the work (which he could not pur- chase) obliged me to seek for another printer, and this of con- sequence W ould throw the publication back till after the meeting of parliament, otherwise it would have appeared that Mr. Pitt had only taken up a part of the plan which I had more fully stated. Whether that gentleman, or any other, had seen the work or any part of it, is more than I have authority to say. But the manner in which the work was returned, and the particular time at which this was. done, and that after the offers he had made, are suspicious circumstances. I know what the opinion of booksellers amd publishers is upon ha a, case, but as to my own opinion, I choose to make no declaration. ‘There are many ways by which proof sheets may be Any by other persons before a work pi ‘ blicl ly appears; to which I shall add a certain circumstance, which is, A m‘nisterial bookselier, in Piccadilly, who has been em- Be eae peste ety er~* prriniiitiiitiit iit tite 7 had bs ? tte ® P a a4 Te itis iii tiseeh hd be bh bk ede Aiba ite - Peres i SEetrirsess: ah a | H paneer 1 repeery H atti TL sdaraeae seis Meiag ei rte ey aac srry ey: ro © ay a 4 - 28 : . +445 RIGHTS OF MAN, ployed, as common report says, by a clerk of one of the boards closely connected with the ministry (the board of trade and plantations, of which Hawkesbury is president) to publish what he calls my Life (I wish his own life and those of the cabinet were as good), used to have his books printed at the same printing office that I en mploy yed; but when the former parts of ” came out, he took his work a week or ten days before the ‘ame to make him an offer of his away in printer rei st bt ie consequently give i * cs l eo ee DS FS e re Toe. him aami e-ofiice where the sheets of this work wel ying ae s and printers are free ec tg Bo aCe Pe a +} Es ‘ (Sse) a ee 4 with each other, he wouid nave tne opp rtunity O© seeing what _ hover 1 a st . Ie i was fCoIn®’ On. pe tne Case, NOwever, as it nay Mr 4 Pitt’s plan, BP i te ® pee : = } hig : See PN en ee eee ea tas! little and diminutive as it is. would have made a ver awkward RA Tuga ees So te sared at the time the printer had appear nad Chis Work appeared at tne time the printer had encas i tO finish Lt Pile w stated the varticulars which occasi 92 Re i nave NOW starvea the particulars which occasioned tne delay, . 7 a ‘aS b otceen kk } Bis Ve dh es p } irom tne proposal two purcnase, to the re fusal to print. lf all eth : : he Pe ee na een eg. tne gentiemen are imnocent, 1t is very unfortunate for them ; ie = Ci = 1 +375 bn chyna hi ott variety of suspicious circumstances should, without t OTY) 2P fy »¢ +oAm~raA } ,}? € tNeMSselves toge the . Ls “77 = Ay : now finished this part, I will conclude with stating ra rtnight or three weeks before the meetine of par- j Petes i: 5 7 } a ? 1: é small addition, amounting to about twelve eae = a-year, was made to the pay of the soldiers, or pay was docked so much less.—Some gentlemen who knew in part that this work would contain a plan of reforms respecting the oppressed condition of soldiers, wished me to add a note to the worl k, sigt ufying that the part upon that, subject had been in the printer’s hands some weeks before that addition of pay was proposed. | declined doing this, lest it should be interpreted into an air of vanity, or an endeavor uich perhaps there might be no grounds) that some of the government gentlemen had, by some ) to excite suspicion (for wl means or other, made out what this work would contain; and had not the printing been interrupted so as to occasion a ‘delay beyond the time fixed for publication, nothing contained in this appendix would have appeared. 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