procuring some land; which ought to be the utmost wish of every person who has health and hands to work. I knew a man who came to this country, in the literal sense of the expression, stark naked; I think he was a Frenchman, and a sailor on board an English man-of-war. Being discontented, he had stripped himself and swam ashore; where, finding clothes and friends, he settled afterwards at Maraneck, in the county of Chester, in the province of New York: he married and left a good farm to each of his sons. I knew another person who was but twelve years old when he was taken on the frontiers of Canada, by the Indians; at his arrival at Albany he was purchased by a gentleman, who generously bound him apprentice to a tailor. He lived to the age of ninety, and left behind him a fine estate and a numerous family, all well settled; many of them I am acquainted with.-Where is then the industrious European who ought to despair? After a foreigner from any part of Europe is arrived, and become a citizen; let him devoutly listen to the voice of our great parent, It which says to him: "Welcome to my shores, distressed European; bless the hour in which thou didst see my verdant fields, my fair navigable rivers, and my green mountains! -If thou wilt work, I have bread for thee; if thou wilt be honest, sober, and industrious, I have greater rewards to confer on theeease and independence. I will give thee fields to feed and clothe thee; a comfortable fireside to sit by, and tell thy children by what means thou hast prospered; and a decent bed to repose on. I shall endow thee beside with the immunities of a freeman. thou wilt carefully educate thy children, teach them gratitude to God, and reverence to that government, that philanthropic government, which has collected here so many men and made them happy. I will also provide for thy progeny; and to every good man this ought to be the most holy, the most powerful, the most earnest wish he can possibly form, as well as the most consolatory prospect when he dies. Go thou and work and till; thou shalt prosper, provided thou be just, grateful, and industrious." THOMAS PAINE (1737-1809) Paine's father was a Quaker who earned a scanty living from a small farm and from a shop in which he followed the trade of stay-making. Thomas was born in Thetford, England, on 29 January, 1737. His formal education was negligible, and when he was thirteen years old he began to learn his father's trade-one which he disliked, and from which he soon tried to escape by going to sea. But a sailor's life apparently proved worse than a stay-maker's, and by 1756 he was in London following that trade, and, at the same time, attending scientific lectures and learning something of mechanics. In this direction he was remarkably apt and, given different circumstances, he might have launched himself on a career of mechanical invention which would almost certainly have brought him fame, and perhaps wealth. Famous he was to become, but from other activities, and meanwhile he continued a stay-maker until, not long after his marriage in 1759, he failed in the shop which he had set up at Sandwich. In the following year his wife died. In 1761 he was appointed an exciseman; four years later he was discharged; then, after an interval of school-teaching, he was reappointed, only to be discharged once more in 1774. In the mean time he had gone into the tobacco-trade, and had married again (1771). But the business failed, and in 1774, for unknown reasons, he and his wife formally separated. Thus far his life had been a series of failures, and he was duly prepared to emigrate. Franklin, whom he had come to know, thought with his usual sagacity that Paine might be useful in America; and for America he sailed, with letters from Franklin, in October, 1774. In Philadelphia he began his career as a man of letters, and discovered in himself those powers of incisive thought and down-right utterance with which presently he was to astonish the colonies. In January, 1776, he published Common Sense, It has been said that George III and Common Sense were the real authors of the Revolution. Almost over night, and almost alone, Paine changed the aims of the colonists from resistance to independence. Justly Common Sense has been described as "one of the most powerful and influential pamphlets ever published in the English language." Paine's biographer (M. D. Conway) estimated that scarcely less than 500,000 copies were sold-an extraordinary number-which can only mean that the pamphlet's fiery message was read everywhere. And from these sales Paine, though still a poor man, derived no profit, because he gave the profits to the cause he preached. And for that cause he continued to labor whole-heartedly to the end, serving in the army, aiding the Congress, helping to secure money and supplies from France, and, above all, continuing to write. The course of the Revolution was punctuated by successive numbers of The American Crisis-essays in which he wonderfully portrayed the American cause as a consecrated battle of the angels against the forces of evil, essays which again and again put fresh strength and determination into Washington's army and held the revolutionists constant to their purpose. The first Crisis was read to the army just before the Battle of Trenton, and it has been well said that Paine deserves no small share of the credit for the victories which followed. The opening words of the essay which those soldiers heard may best show the reason: "These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their 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 cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives everything its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as Freedom should not be highly rated." With the conclusion of the war, Paine's work for America was practically completed. His nature was intensely partisan; once his simple convictions had been reached, he could fight for them with perfect vigor and tenacity; but he understood too little of average human nature to be useful in government. He could not meet others on their own ground, he could not temporize and patiently undertake half-measures, he was incapable of compromise. Hence there was no place for him in the task of framing the Constitution and welding the colonies into a nation. This he may have recognized. He regarded himself as a citizen, not of any country, but of the world, and perhaps began, with some reason, to think of himself as the liberator of mankind. He had for some time been anxious to revisit England; might he not hope to undermine tyranny there? He sailed for France in 1787, and did not return to America until 1802. Those were eventful years both for Europe and for Paine. He pub lished The Rights of Man-his answer to Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in France—in 1791 and 1792. For this he was prosecuted, and convicted of libel. But already he was in France-owing, at least in part, to the sound advice of William Blake-and had been elected a deputy to the French Convention. He remained true, of course, to his republican principles, and, in alliance with the Girondists, attempted to carry those principles out mercifully. He attacked the king, not the man, and labored bravely to save the life of Louis XVI. "I'm of the Scotch parson's opinion," he had said, "when he prayed against Louis XIV, 'Lord, shake him over the mouth of hell, but don't let him drop."" For his efforts he was thrown into prison, where he suffered from a dangerous illness, and he escaped the guillotine only by a lucky accident. It was in these blood-stained years of fanaticism and cruelty, and as a manifesto against French atheism, that he wrote and published The Age of Reason (1793, 1795), a powerful and perhaps still influential attack upon revealed religion and a confident exposition of deism. After his return to America to spend his last years here (he died in New York on 8 January, 1809), Paine's life was embittered by fears of poverty and by defamation and persecution at the hands of those whose independence he had done so much to gain. By The Rights of Man and his vaguely understood share in the French Revolution he had aroused the enmity of all those who had grown suspicious of or hostile to genuine democracy, and, much worse, by The Age of Reason he had aroused the hatred of orthodox Christians everywhere. Atheist, he was called, in days when that was still a terrible accusation, and his pious opponents did not scruple to hound him with other malicious lies concerning his beliefs, his character, and his manner of life, until they built around him a hideous legend which has persisted almost until our own time. Many unlovely things may truthfully be said about Paine. He had no delicacy, no tact, no personal pride; his mind was not profound; he suffered the limitations of his age-its misplaced confidence in reason, its innocence of historical sense; he was hasty of judgment and self-conceited; and the indictment could be further extended; but, none the less, he was also a brave, unselfish man, who devoted freely his life, his extraordinary talents, and his purse to the cause of human freedom. And to his memory Americans should pay sincere homage, as to his books they must go for a true understanding of the ideas and the temper which brought the United States into the world an independent nation. COMMON SENSE I. ON THE ORIGIN AND DESIGN OF GOVERN- ON THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION For were the impulses of conscience clear, uniform, and irresistibly obeyed, man would need no other lawgiver; but that not being the case, he finds it necessary to surrender up a part of his property to furnish means for the protection of the rest; and this he is induced to do by the same prudence which in every other case advises him, out of two evils to choose the least. Wherefore, secu SOME writers have so confounded society with government, as to leave little or no distinction between them; whereas they are not only different, but have different origins. Society is produced by our wants, and gov-rity being the true design and end of governernment by our wickedness; the former promotes our happiness positively by uniting our affections, the latter negatively by restraining our vices. The one encourages intercourse, the other creates distinctions. The first is a patron, the last a punisher. ment, it unanswerably follows that whatever form thereof appears most likely to insure it to us, with the least expense and greatest benefit, is preferable to all others. In order to gain a clear and just idea of the design and end of government, let us suppose Society in every state is a blessing, but a small number of persons settled in some government, even in its best state, is but a sequestered part of the earth, unconnected necessary evil; in its worst state an intoler- with the rest; they will then represent the able one: for when we suffer, or are exposed first peopling of any country, or of the world. to the same miseries by a government, which In this state of natural liberty, society will we might expect in a country without govern- be their first thought. A thousand motives ment, our calamity is heightened by reflecting will excite them thereto; the strength of one that we furnish the means by which we suffer. man is so unequal to his wants, and his mind Government, like dress, is the badge of lost so unfitted for perpetual solitude, that he is innocence; the palaces of kings are built soon obliged to seek assistance and relief of upon the ruins of the bowers of paradise. | another, who in his turn requires the same. Four or five united would be able to raise a tolerable dwelling in the midst of a wilderness, but one man might labor out the common period of life without accomplishing any thing; when he had felled his timber he could not remove it, nor erect it after it was removed; hunger in the mean time would urge him to quit his work, and every different want would call him a different way. Disease, nay even misfortune, would be death; for though neither might be mortal, yet either would disable him from living, and reduce him to a state in which he might rather be said to perish than to die. Thus necessity, like a gravitating power, would soon form our newly arrived emigrants into society, the reciprocal blessings of which would supersede, and render the obligations of law and government unnecessary while they remained perfectly just to each other; but as nothing but Heaven is impregnable to vice, it will unavoidably happen that in proportion as they surmount the first difficulties of emigration, which bound them together in a common cause, they will begin to relax in their duty and attachment to each other: and this remissness will point out the necessity of establishing some form of government to supply the defect of moral virtue. Some convenient tree will afford them a State House, under the branches of which the whole Colony may assemble to deliberate on public matters. It is more than probable that their first laws will have the title only of Regulations and be enforced by no other penalty than public disesteem. In this first parliament every man by natural right will have a seat. But as the Colony increases, the public concerns will increase likewise, and the distance at which the members may be separated will render it too inconvenient for all of them to meet on every occasion as at first, when their number was small, their habitations near, and the public concerns few and trifling. This will point out the convenience of their consenting to leave the legislative part to be managed by a select number chosen from the whole body, who are supposed to have the same concerns at stake which those have who appointed them, and who will act in the same manner as the whole body would act were they present. If the colony continue increasing, it will become necessary to augment the number of representatives, and that the interest of every part of the colony may be attended to, it will be found best to divide the whole into convenient parts, each part sending its proper number: and that the elected might never form to themselves an interest separate from the electors, prudence will point out the propriety of having elections often: because as the elected might by that means return and mix again with the general body of the electors in a few months, their fidelity to the public will be secured by the prudent reflection of not making a rod for themselves. And as this frequent interchange will establish a common interest with every part of the community, they will mutually and naturally support each other, and on this (not on the unmeaning name of king) depends the strength of government, and the happiness of the governed. Here then is the origin and rise of government; namely, a mode rendered necessary by the inability of moral virtue to govern the world; here too is the design and end of government, viz., Freedom and security. And however our eyes may be dazzled with show, or our ears deceived by sound; however prejudice may warp our wills, or interest darken our understanding, the simple voice of nature and reason will say, 'tis right. I draw my idea of the form of government from a principle in nature which no art can overturn, viz., that the more simple any thing is, the less liable it is to be disordered and the easier repaired when disordered; and with this maxim in view I offer a few remarks on the so much boasted constitution of England. That it was noble for the dark and slavish times in which it was erected, is granted. When the world was overrun with tyranny the least remove therefrom was a glorious rescue. But that it is imperfect, subject to convulsions, and incapable of producing what it seems to promise, is easily demonstrated. Absolute governments (though the disgrace of human nature) have this advantage with them, they are simple; if the people suffer, they know the head from which their suffering springs; know likewise the remedy; and are not bewildered by a variety of causes and cures. But the constitution of England is so exceedingly complex, that the nation may suffer for years together without being able to discover in which part the fault lies; some will say in one and some in another, and every political physician will advise a different medicine. I know it is difficult to get over local or long standing prejudices, yet if we will suffer ourselves to examine the component parts of the English constitution, we shall find them to be the base remains of two ancient tyrannies, compounded with some new Republican materials. First. The remains of Monarchical tyranny in the person of the King. Secondly. The remains of Aristocratical tyranny in the persons of the Peers. Thirdly. The new Republican materials, in the persons of the Commons, on whose virtue depends the freedom of England. The two first, by being hereditary, are independent of the People; wherefore in at constitutional sense they contribute nothing towards the freedom of the State. To say that the constitution of England is an union of three powers, reciprocally checking each other, is farcical; either the words have no meaning, or they are flat contradictions. Το say that the Commons is a check upon the King, presupposes two things. First. That the King is not to be trusted without being looked after; or in other words, that a thirst for absolute power is the natural disease of monarchy. Secondly. That the Commons, by being appointed for that purpose, are either wiser more worthy of confidence than the Crown. or But as the same constitution which gives the Commons a power to check the King by withholding the supplies, gives afterwards the King a power to check the Commons, by empowering him to reject their other bills; it again supposes that the King is wiser than those whom it has already supposed to be wiser than him. A mere absurdity! There is something exceedingly ridiculous in the composition of Monarchy; it first excludes a man from the means of information, yet empowers him to act in cases where the highest judgment is required. The state of a king shuts him from the World, yet the business of a king requires him to know it thoroughly; wherefore the different parts, by unnaturally opposing and destroying each other, prove the whole character to be absurd and useless. Some writers have explained the English constitution thus: the King, say they, is one, the people another; the Peers are a house in behalf of the King, the Commons in behalf of the people; but this hath all the distinctions of a house divided against itself; and though the expressions be pleasantly arranged, yet when examined they appear idle and ambiguous; and it will always happen that the nicest construction that words are capable of, when applied to the description of something which either cannot exist, or is too incomprehensible to be within the compass of description, will be words of sound only, and though they may amuse the ear, they cannot inform the mind: for this explanation includes a previous question, viz., how came the king by a power which the people are afraid to trust, and always obliged to check? Such a power could not be the gift of a wise people, neither can any power, which needs checking, be from God; yet the provision which the constitution makes supposes such a power to exist. But the provision is unequal to the task; the means either cannot or will not accomplish the end, and the whole affair is a Felo de se for as the greater weight will always carry up the less, and as all the wheels of a machine are put in motion by one, it only remains to know which power in the constitution has the most weight, for that will govern: and though the others, or a part of them, may clog, or, as the phrase is, check the rapidity of its motion, yet so long as they cannot stop it, their endeavors will be ineffectual: The first moving power will at last have its way, and what it wants in speed is supplied by time. That the crown is this overbearing part in the English constitution needs not be mentioned, and that it derives its whole consequence merely from being the giver of places and pensions is self-evident; wherefore, though we have been wise enough to shut and lock a door against absolute Monarchy, we at the same time have been foolish 1 I.e., is self-destroying. |