they passed; nor do they review its several stages
without reviving in their bosoms a due sensibility of
the merits of those who served them in that great
and arduous conflict. The crime of ingratitude has
not yet stained, and I trust never will stain, our
national character. You are considered by them as
not only having rendered important services in our
own Revolution, but as being on a more extensive
scale the friend of human rights, and a distinguished
and able defender of public liberty. To the welfare
of Thomas Paine the Americans are not, nor can
they be indifferent.".. James Monroe.

Did any of your ancestors ever receive a letter
like that?

"No writer has exceeded Paine in ease and famil-
iarity of style, in perspicuity of expression, happiness
of elucidation, and in simple and unassuming lan-
guage."'—Thomas Jefferson.

Was ever a letter like that written about an editor
of the New York Observer?

Was it in consideration of the services of a
drunken beast that the Legislature of Pennsylvania
presented Thomas Paine with five hundred pounds
sterling?

482

Did the State of New York feel indebted to a
drunken beast, and confer upon Thomas Paine an
estate of several hundred acres?

"I believe in the equality of man, and I believe
that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving
mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creat-
ures happy."

"My own mind is my own church."

"It is necessary to the happiness of man that he
be mentally faithful to himself."

"Any system of religion that shocks the mind of
a child cannot be a true system."

"The Word of God is the creation which we
behold."

"The age of ignorance commenced with the
Christian system."

"It is with a pious fraud as with a bad action—it
begets a calamitous necessity of going on."

"To read the Bible without horror, we must undo
everything that is tender, sympathizing and benev-
olent in the heart of man."

"The man does not exist who can say I have per-
secuted him, or that I have in any case returned evil
for evil."

"Of all tyrannies that afflict mankind, tyranny in
religion is the worst."

483

"My own opinion is, that those whose lives have
been spent in doing good and endeavoring to make
their fellow-mortals happy, will be happy hereafter."
"The belief in a cruel god makes a cruel man."
"The intellectual part of religion is a private affair
between every man and his Maker, and in which no
third party has any right to interfere. The practical
part consists in our doing good to each other."

"No man ought to make a living by religion. One
person cannot act religion for another—every person
must perform it for himself."

"One good schoolmaster is of more use than a
hundred priests."

"Let us propagate morality unfettered by super-
stition."

"God is the power, or first cause, Nature is the
law, and matter is the subject acted upon."

"I believe in one God and no more, and I hope
for happiness beyond this life."

"The key of heaven is not in the keeping of any
sect nor ought the road to it to be obstructed
by any."

"My religion, and the whole of it, is the fear and
love of the Deity and universal philanthropy."

"I have yet, I believe, some years in store, for I
have a good state of health and a happy mind. I

484

take care of both, by nourishing the first with tem-
perance and the latter with abundance."

"He lives immured within the Bastile of a
word."

How perfectly that sentence describes you! The
Bastile in which you are immured is the word
"Calvinism."

"Man has no property in man."

What a splendid motto that would have made for
the New York Observer in the olden time!

"The world is my country; to do good, my
religion."

I ask you again whether these splendid utterances
came from the lips of a drunken beast?


Did Thomas Paine die in destitution and want?

The charge has been made, over and over again,
that Thomas Paine died in want and destitution—
that he was an abandoned pauper—an outcast with-
out friends and without money. This charge is just
as false as the rest.

Upon his return to this country in 1802, he was
worth $30,000, according to his own statement made
at that time in the following letter addressed to Clio
Rickman:

"My Dear Friend: Mr. Monroe, who is appointed
minister extraordinary to France, takes charge of

485

this, to be delivered to Mr. Este, banker in Paris, to
be forwarded to you.

"I arrived at Baltimore the 30th of October, and
you can have no idea of the agitation which my
arrival occasioned. From New Hampshire to
Georgia (an extent of 1,500 miles) every newspaper
was filled with applause or abuse.

"My property in this country has been taken care
of by my friends, and is now worth six thousand
pounds sterling; which put in the funds will bring
me £400 sterling a year.

"Remember me in affection and friendship to your
wife and family, and in the circle of your friends."

Thomas Paine.

A man in those days worth thirty thousand dol-
lars was not a pauper. That amount would bring an
income of at least two thousand dollars per annum.
Two thousand dollars then would be fully equal to
five thousand dollars now.

On the 12th of July, 1809, the year in which he
died, Mr. Paine made his will. From this instru-
ment we learn that he was the owner of a valuable
farm within twenty miles of New York. He also
was the owner of thirty shares in the New York
Phoenix Insurance Company, worth upwards of fif-
teen hundred dollars. Besides this, some personal

486

property and ready money. By his will he gave to
Walter Morton, and Thomas Addis Emmett, brother
of Robert Emmett, two hundred dollars each, and
one hundred to the widow of Elihu Palmer.

Is it possible that this will was made by a pauper
—by a destitute outcast—by a man who suffered for
the ordinary necessaries of life?

But suppose, for the sake of the argument, that he
was poor and that he died a beggar, does that tend
to show that the Bible is an inspired book and that
Calvin did not burn Servetus? Do you really regard
poverty as a crime? If Paine had died a millionaire,
would you have accepted his religious opinions? If
Paine had drank nothing but cold water would you
have repudiated the five cardinal points of Calvin-
ism? Does an argument depend for its force upon
the pecuniary condition of the person making it?
As a matter of fact, most reformers—most men and
women of genius, have been acquainted with poverty.
Beneath a covering of rags have been found some of
the tenderest and bravest hearts.

Owing to the attitude of the churches for the last
fifteen hundred years, truth-telling has not been a
very lucrative business. As a rule, hypocrisy has
worn the robes, and honesty the rags. That day is
passing away. You cannot now answer the argu-

487

ments of a man by pointing at holes in his coat.
Thomas Paine attacked the church when it was
powerful—when it had what was called honors to
bestow—when it was the keeper of the public con-
science—when it was strong and cruel. The church
waited till he was dead then attacked his reputation
and his clothes.

Once upon a time a donkey kicked a lion. The
lion was dead.

Conclusion.

From the persistence with which the orthodox
have charged for the last sixty-eight years that
Thomas Paine recanted, and that when dying he
was filled with remorse and fear; from the malignity
of the attacks upon his personal character, I had con-
cluded that there must be some evidence of some
kind to support these charges. Even with my ideas
of the average honor of believers in superstition—
the disciples of fear—I did not quite believe that all
these infamies rested solely upon poorly attested
lies. I had charity enough to suppose that some-
thing had been said or done by Thomas Paine capa-
ble of being tortured into a foundation for these
calumnies. And I was foolish enough to think that
even you would be willing to fairly examine the pre-
tended evidence said to sustain these charges, and

488

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

489

dence you had, or could obtain, affecting in any way
the character of so great and so generous a man. This
you have refused to do. In my judgment, you have
mistaken the temper of even your own readers. A
large majority of the religious people of this country
have, to a considerable extent, outgrown the preju-
dices of their fathers. They are willing to know the
truth and the whole truth, about the life and death of
Thomas Paine. They will not thank you for having
presented them the moss-covered, the maimed and dis-
torted traditions of ignorance, prejudice, and credulity.
By this course you will convince them not of the
wickedness of Paine, but of your own unfairness.

What crime had Thomas Paine committed that he
should have feared to die? The only answer you
can give is, that he denied the inspiration of the
Scriptures. If this is a crime, the civilized world is
filled with criminals. The pioneers of human thought
—the intellectual leaders of the world—the foremost
men in every science—the kings of literature and
art—those who stand in the front rank of investiga-
tion—the men who are civilizing, elevating, instruct-
ing, and refining mankind, are to-day unbelievers in
the dogma of inspiration. Upon this question, the
intellect of Christendom agrees with the conclusions
reached by the genius of Thomas Paine. Centuries

490

ago a noise was made for the purpose of frightening
mankind. Orthodoxy is the echo of that noise.

The man who now regards the Old Testament as
in any sense a sacred or inspired book is, in my judg-
ment, an intellectual and moral deformity. There is
in it so much that is cruel, ignorant, and ferocious
that it is to me a matter of amazement that it was
ever thought to be the work of a most merciful deity.

Upon the question of inspiration Thomas Paine
gave his honest opinion. Can it be that to give an
honest opinion causes one to die in terror and de-
spair? Have you in your writings been actuated by
the fear of such a consequence? Why should it be
taken for granted that Thomas Paine, who devoted
his life to the sacred cause of freedom, should have
been hissed at in the hour of death by the snakes of
conscience, while editors of Presbyterian papers who
defended slavery as a divine institution, and cheer-
fully justified the stealing of babes from the breasts of
mothers, are supposed to have passed smilingly from
earth to the embraces of angels? Why should you
think that the heroic author of the "Rights of Man"
should shudderingly dread to leave this "bank and
shoal of time," while Calvin, dripping with the blood
of Servetus, was anxious to be judged of God? Is
it possible that the persecutors—the instigators of

491

the massacre of St. Bartholomew—the inventors and
users of thumb-screws, and iron boots, and racks—
the burners and tearers of human flesh—the stealers,
whippers and enslavers of men—the buyers and
beaters of babes and mothers—the founders of
inquisitions—the makers of chains, the builders of
dungeons, the slanderers of the living and the calum-
niators of the dead, all died in the odor of sanctity,
with white, forgiven hands folded upon the breasts
of peace, while the destroyers of prejudice—the
apostles of humanity—the soldiers of liberty—the
breakers of fetters—the creators of light—died sur-
rounded with the fierce fiends of fear?

In your attempt to destroy the character of Thomas
Paine you have failed, and have succeeded only in
leaving a stain upon your own. You have written
words as cruel, bitter and heartless as the creed of
Calvin. Hereafter you will stand in the pillory of
history as a defamer—a calumniator of the dead.
You will be known as the man who said that Thomas
Paine, the "Author Hero," lived a drunken, coward-
ly and beastly life, and died a drunken and beastly
death. These infamous words will be branded upon
the forehead of your reputation. They will be re-
membered against you when all else you may have
uttered shall have passed from the memory of men.

Robert G. Ingersoll.





THE OBSERVER'S SECOND ATTACK

* From the NY. Observer of Nov. 1, 1877.


TOM PAINE AGAIN.

In the Observer of September 27th, in response
to numerous calls from different parts of the country
for information, and in fulfillment of a promise, we
presented a mass of testimony, chiefly from persons
with whom we had been personally acquainted,
establishing the truth of our assertions in regard to
the dissolute life and miserable end of Paine. It was
not a pleasing subject for discussion, and an apology,
or at least an explanation, is due to our readers for
resuming it, and for occupying so much space, or
any space, in exhibiting the truth and the proofs in
regard to the character of a man who had become so
debased by his intemperance, and so vile in his
habits, as to be excluded, for many years before and
up to the time of his death, from all decent society.

Our reasons for taking up the subject at all, and
for presenting at this time so much additional testi-
mony in regard to the facts of the case, are these:
At different periods for the last fifty years, efforts

493

have been made by Infidels to revive and honor the
memory of one whose friends would honor him most
by suffering his name to sink into oblivion, if that
were possible. About two years since, Rev. O. B.
Frothingham, of this city, came to their aid, and
undertook a sort of championship of Paine, making
in a public discourse this statement: "No private
character has been more foully calumniated in the
name of God than that of Thomas Paine." (Mr.
Frothingham, it will be remembered, is the one who
recently, in a public discourse, announced the down-
fall of Christianity, although he very kindly made
the allowance that, "it may be a thousand years
before its decay will be visible to all eyes." It is
our private opinion that it will be at least a thousand
and one.) Rev. John W. Chadwick, a minister of
the same order of unbelief, who signs himself, "Min-
ister of the Second Unitarian Society in Brooklyn,"
has devoted two discourses to the same end, eulogiz-
ing Paine. In one of these, which we have before
us in a handsomely printed pamphlet, entitled,
"Method and Value of his (Paine's) Religious
Teachings," he says: "Christian usage has determ-
ined that an Infidel means one who does not believe
in Christianity as a supernatural religion; in the
Bible as a Supernatural book; in Jesus as a super-

494

natural person. And in this sense Paine was an
Infidel, and so, thank God, am I." It is proper to
add that Unitarians generally decline all responsibil-
ity for the utterances of both of these men, and that
they compose a denomination, or rather two denom-
inations, of their own.

There is also a certain class of Infidels who are
not quite prepared to meet the odium that attaches
to the name; they call themselves Christians, but
their sympathies are all with the enemies of Chris-
tianity, and they are not always able to conceal it.
They have not the courage of their opinions, like
Mr. Frothingham and Mr. Chadwick, and they work
only sideways toward the same end. We have been
no little amused since our last article on this subject
appeared, to read some of the articles that have been
written on the other side, though professedly on no
side, and to observe how sincerely these men depre-
cate the discussion of the character of Paine, as an
unprofitable topic. It never appeared to them un-
profitable when the discussion was on the other side.

Then, too, we have for months past been receiving
letters from different parts of the country, asking
authentic information on the subject and stating that
the followers of Paine are making extraordinary
efforts to circulate his writings against the Christian

495

religion, and in order to give currency to these writ-
ings they are endeavoring to rescue his name from
the disgrace into which it sank during the latter
years of his life. Paine spent several of his last
years in furnishing a commentary upon his Infidel
principles. This commentary was contained in his
besotted, degraded life and miserable end, but his
friends do not wish the commentary to go out in
connection with his writings. They prefer to have
them read without the comments by their author.
Hence this anxiety to free the great apostle of
Infidelity from the obloquy which his life brought
upon his name; to represent him as a pure, noble,
virtuous man, and to make it appear that he died a
peaceful, happy death, just like a philosopher.

But what makes the publication of the facts in the
case still more imperative at this time is the whole-
sale accusation brought against the Christian public
by the friends and admirers of Paine. Christian
ministers as a class, and Christian journals are
expressly accused of falsifying history, of defaming
"the mighty dead!" (meaning Paine,) etc. In
the face of all these accusations it cannot be out of
place to state the facts and to fortify the statement
by satisfactory evidence, as we are abundantly able
to do.

496

The two points on which we proposed to produce
the testimony are, the character of Paine's life (refer-
ring of course to his last residence in this country,
for no one has intimated that he had sunk into such
besotted drunkenness until about the time of his
return to the United States in 1802), and the real
character of his death as consistent with such a life,
and as marked further by the cowardliness, which
has been often exhibited by Infidels in the same
circumstances.

It is nothing at all to the purpose to show, as his
friends are fond of doing, that Paine rendered
important service to the cause of American Inde-
pendence. This is not the point under discussion
and is not denied. No one ever called in question
the valuable service that Benedict Arnold rendered
to the country in the early part of the Revolutionary
war; but this, with true Americans, does not suffice
to cast a shade of loveliness or even to spread a man-
tle of charity over his subsequent career. Whatever
share Paine had in the personal friendship of the
fathers of the Revolution he forfeited by his subse-
quent life of beastly drunkenness and degradation,
and on this account as well as on account of his
blasphemy he was shunned by all decent people.

We wish to make one or two corrections of mis-

497

statements by Paine's advocates, on which a vast
amount of argument has been simply wasted. We
have never stated in any form, nor have we ever
supposed, that Paine actually renounced his Infidel-
ity. The accounts agree in stating that he died a
blaspheming Infidel, and his horrible death we regard
as one of the fruits, the fitting complement of his
Infidelity. We have never seen anything that
encouraged the hope that he was not abandoned of
God in his last hours. But we have no doubt, on
the other hand, that having become a wreck in body
and mind through his intemperance, abandoned of
God, deserted by his Infidel companions, and de-
pendent upon Christian charity for the attentions he
received, miserable beyond description in his condi-
tion, and seeing nothing to hope for in the future, he
was afraid to die, and was ready to call upon God
and upon Christ for mercy, and ready perhaps in the
next minute to blaspheme. This is what we referred
to in speaking of Paine's death as cowardly. It is
shown in the testimony we have produced, and still
more fully in that which we now present. The most
wicked men are ready to call upon God in seasons
of great peril, and sometimes ask for Christian min-
istrations when in extreme illness; but they are
often ready on any alleviation of distress to turn to

498

their wickedness again, in the expressive language
of Scripture, "as the sow that was washed to her
wallowing in the mire."

We have never stated or intimated, nor, so far as
we are aware, has any one of our correspondents
stated, that Paine died in poverty. It has been
frequently and truthfully stated that Paine was de-
pendent on Christian charity for the attentions he
received in his last days, and so he was. His Infidel
companions forsook him and Christian hearts and
hands ministered to his wants, notwithstanding the
blasphemies of his death-bed.

Nor has one of our correspondents stated, as
alleged, that Paine died at New Rochelle. The
Rev. Dr. Wickham, who was a resident of that place
nearly fifty years ago, and who was perfectly familiar
with the facts of his life, wrote that Paine spent "his
latter days" on the farm presented to him by
the State of New York, which was strictly true,
but made no reference to it as the place of his
death.

Such misrepresentations serve to show how much
the advocates of Paine admire "truth."

With these explanations we produce further evi-
dence in regard to the manner of Paine's life and the
character of his death, both of which we have already

499

characterized in appropriate terms, as the following
testimony will show.

In regard to Paine's "personal habits," even before
his return to this country, and particularly his aver-
sion to soap and water, Elkana Watson, a gentleman
of the highest social position, who resided in France
during a part of the Revolutionary war, and who
was the personal friend of Washington, Franklin,
and other patriots of the period, makes some inci-
dental statements in his "Men and Times of the
Revolution." Though eulogizing Paine's efforts in
behalf of American Independence, he describes him
as "coarse and uncouth in his manners, loathsome
in his appearance, and a disgusting egotist." On
Paine's arrival at Nantes, the Mayor and other dis-
tinguished citizens called upon him to pay their
respects to the American patriot. Mr. Watson says:
"He was soon rid of his respectable visitors, who
left the room with marks of astonishment and dis-
gust." Mr. W., after much entreaty, and only by
promising him a bundle of newspapers to read while
undergoing the operation, succeeded in prevailing
on Paine to "stew, for an hour, in a hot bath." Mr.
W. accompanied Paine to the bath, and "instructed
the keeper, in French, (which Paine did not under-
stand,) gradually to increase the heat of the water

500

until 'le Monsieur serait bien bouille (until the gentle-
man shall be well boiled;) and adds that "he became
so much absorbed in his reading that he was nearly-
parboiled before leaving the bath, much to his im-
provement and my satisfaction."

William Carver has been cited as a witness in be-
half of Paine, and particularly as to his "personal
habits." In a letter to Paine, dated December 2,
1776, he bears the following testimony:

"A respectable gentlemen from New Rochelle
called to see me a few days back, and said that
everybody was tired of you there, and no one would
undertake to board and lodge you. I thought this
was the case, as I found you at a tavern in a most
miserable situation. You appeared as if you had
not been shaved for a fortnight, and as to a shirt, it
could not be said that you had one on. It was only
the remains of one, and this, likewise, appeared not
to have been off your back for a fortnight, and was
nearly the color of tanned leather; and you had the
most disagreeable smell possible; just like that of
our poor beggars in England. Do you remember the
pains I took to clean you? that I got a tub of warm
water and soap and washed you from head to foot, and
this I had to do three times before I could get you
clean." (And then follow more disgusting details.)

501

"You say, also, that you found your own liquors
during the time you boarded with me; but you
should have said, 'I found only a small part of the
liquor I drank during my stay with you; this part I
purchased of John Fellows, which was a demijohn of
brandy containing four gallons, and this did not serve
me three weeks.' This can be proved, and I mean
not to say anything that I cannot prove; for I hold
truth as a precious jewel. It is a well-known fact,
that you drank one quart of brandy per day, at my
expense, during the different times that you have
boarded with me, the demijohn above mentioned
excepted, and the last fourteen weeks you were sick.
Is not this a supply of liquor for dinner and supper?"
This chosen witness in behalf of Paine, closes his
letter, which is full of loathsome descriptions of
Paine's manner of life, as follows:

"Now, sir, I think I have drawn a complete por-
trait of your character; yet to enter upon every
minutiae would be to give a history of your life, and
to develop the fallacious mask of hypocrisy and de-
ception under which you have acted in your political
as well as moral capacity of life."

(Signed) "William Carver."

Carver had the same opinion of Paine to his dying
day. When an old man, and an Infidel of the Paine

502

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

503

not begin to set forth the degraded character of the
man's life. And with all that has been written on
the subject we see no good reason to doubt the sub-
stantial accuracy of Cheetham's portrait of the man
whom he knew so well.

Dr. J. W. Francis, well-known as an eminent phy-
sician, of this city, in his Reminiscences of New York,
says of Paine:

"He who, in his early days, had been associated
with, and had received counsel from Franklin, was,
in his old age, deserted by the humblest menial; he,
whose pen has proved a very sword among nations,
had shaken empires, and made kings tremble, now
yielded up the mastery to the most treacherous of
tyrants, King Alcohol."

The physician who attended Paine during his last
illness was Dr. James R. Manley, a gentleman of the
highest character. A letter of his, written in Octo-
ber of the year that Paine died, fully corroborates
the account of his state as recorded by Stephen
Grellet in his Memoirs, which we have already
printed. He writes:

"New York, October 2, 1809: I was called upon
by accident to visit Mr. Paine, on the 25th of Feb-
ruary last, and found him indisposed with fever, and
very apprehensive of an attack of apoplexy, as he

504

stated that he had that disease before, and at this
time felt a great degree of vertigo, and was unable
to help himself as he had hitherto done, on account
of an intense pain above the eyes. On inquiry of
the attendants I was told that three or four days
previously he had concluded to dispense with his
usual quantity of accustomed stimulus and that he
had on that day resumed it. To the want of his
usual drink they attributed his illness, and it is highly
probable that the usual quantity operating upon a
state of system more excited from the above priva-
tions, was the cause of the symptoms of which he
then complained.... And here let me be per-
mitted to observe (lest blame might attach to those
whose business it was to pay any particular attention
to his cleanliness of person) that it was absolutely
impossible to effect that purpose. Cleanliness ap-
peared to make no part of his comfort; he seemed
to have a singular aversion to soap and water; he
would never ask to be washed, and when he was he
would always make objections; and it was not un-
usual to wash and to dress him clean very much
against his inclinations. In this deplorable state,
with confirmed dropsy, attended with frequent cough,
vomiting and hiccough, he continued growing from
bad to worse till the morning of the 8th of June,

505

when he died. Though I may remark that during
the last three weeks of his life his situation was such
that his decease was confidently expected every day,
his ulcers having assumed a gangrenous appearance,
being excessively fetid, and discolored blisters hav-
ing taken place on the soles of his feet without any
ostensible cause, which baffled the usual attempts to
arrest their progress; and when we consider his
former habits, his advanced age, the feebleness of his
constitution, his constant habit of using ardent spirits
ad libitum till the commencement of his last illness,
so far from wondering that he died so soon, we are
constrained to ask, How did he live so long? Con-
cerning his conduct during his disease I have not
much to remark, though the little I have may be
somewhat interesting. Mr. Paine professed to be
above the fear of death, and a great part of his con-
versation was principally directed to give the impres-
sion that he was perfectly willing to leave this world,
and yet some parts of his conduct were with difficulty
reconcilable with his belief. In the first stages of his
illness he was satisfied to be left alone during the
day, but he required some person to be with him at
night, urging as his reason that he was afraid that
he should die when unattended, and at this period
his deportment and his principle seemed to be con-

506

sistent; so much so that a stranger would judge from
some of the remarks he would make that he was an
Infidel. I recollect being with him at night, watch-
ing; he was very apprehensive of a speedy dissolu-
tion, and suffered great distress of body, and perhaps
of mind (for he was waiting the event of an applica-
tion to the Society of Friends for permission that his
corpse might be deposited in their grave-ground, and
had reason to believe that the request might be
refused), when he remarked in these words, 'I think
I can say what they made Jesus Christ to say—"My
God, my God! why hast thou forsaken me?" He
went on to observe on the want of that respect which
he conceived he merited, when I observed to him
that I thought his corpse should be matter of least
concern to him; that those whom he would leave
behind him would see that he was properly interred,
and, further, that it would be of little consequence to
me where I was deposited provided I was buried;
upon which he answered that he had nothing else to
talk about, and that he would as lief talk of his death
as of anything, but that he was not so indifferent
about his corpse as I appeared to be.

"During the latter part of his life, though his con-
versation was equivocal, his conduct was singular;
he could not be left alone night or day; he not only

507

required to have some person with him, but he must
see that he or she was there, and would not allow
his curtain to be closed at any time; and if, as it
would sometimes unavoidably happen, he was left
alone, he would scream and halloo until some person
came to him. When relief from pain would admit,
he seemed thoughtful and contemplative, his eyes
being generally closed, and his hands folded upon
his breast, although he never slept without the assist-
ance of an anodyne. There was something remark-
able in his conduct about this period (which comprises
about two weeks immediately preceding his death),
particularly when we reflect that Thomas Paine was
the author of the 'Age of Reason.' He would call
out during his paroxysms of distress, without inter-
mission, 'O Lord help me! God help me! Jesus
Christ help me! Lord help me!' etc., repeating the
same expressions without the least variation, in a
tone of voice that would alarm the house. It was
this conduct which induced me to think that he had
abandoned his former opinions, and I was more
inclined to that belief when I understood from his
nurse (who is a very serious and, I believe, pious
woman), that he would occasionally inquire, when he
saw her engaged with a book, what she was reading,
and, being answered, and at the same time asked

508

whether she should read aloud, he assented, and
would appear to give particular attention.

"I took occasion during the nights of the fifth
and sixth of June to test the strength of his opinions
respecting revelation. I purposely made him a very
late visit; it was a time which seemed to suit exactly
with my errand; it was midnight, he was in great
distress, constantly exclaiming in the words above
mentioned, when, after a considerable preface, I
addressed him in the following manner, the nurse
being present: 'Mr. Paine, your opinions, by a large
portion of the community, have been treated with
deference, you have never been in the habit of mix-
ing in your conversation words of coarse meaning;
you have never indulged in the practice of profane
swearing; you must be sensible that we are ac-
quainted with your religious opinions as they are
given to the world. What must we think of your
present conduct? Why do you call upon Jesus
Christ to help you? Do you believe that he can
help you? Do you believe in the divinity of Jesus
Christ? Come, now, answer me honestly. I want
an answer from the lips of a dying man, for I verily
believe that you will not live twenty-four hours.' I
waited some time at the end of every question; he
did not answer, but ceased to exclaim in the above

509

manner. Again I addressed him; 'Mr. Paine, you
have not answered my questions; will you answer
them? Allow me to ask again, do you believe? or
let me qualify the question, do you wish to believe
that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?' After a pause
of some minutes, he answered, 'I have no wish to
believe on that subject.' I then left him, and knew
not whether he afterward spoke to any person on
any subject, though he lived, as I before observed,
till the morning of the 8th. Such conduct, under
usual circumstances, I conceive absolutely unaccount-
able, though, with diffidence, I would remark, not so
much so in the present instance; for though the first
necessary and general result of conviction be a sin-
cere wish to atone for evil committed, yet it may be
a question worthy of able consideration whether
excessive pride of opinion, consummate vanity, and
inordinate self-love might not prevent or retard that
otherwise natural consequence. For my own part,
I believe that had not Thomas Paine been such a
distinguished Infidel he would have left less equivo-
cal evidences of a change of opinion. Concerning
the persons who visited Mr. Paine in his distress as
his personal friends, I heard very little, though I may
observe that their number was small, and of that
number there were not wanting those who endeavor-

510

ed to support him in his deistical opinions, and to
encourage him to 'die like a man,' to 'hold fast his
integrity,' lest Christians, or, as they were pleased to
term them, hypocrites, might take advantage of his
weakness, and furnish themselves with a weapon by
which they might hope to destroy their glorious sys-
tem of morals. Numbers visited him from motives
of benevolence and Christian charity, endeavoring to
effect a change of mind in respect to his religious
sentiments. The labor of such was apparently lost,
and they pretty generally received such treatment
from him as none but good men would risk a second
time, though some of those persons called frequently."
The following testimony will be new to most of
our readers. It is from a letter written by Bishop
Fenwick (Roman Catholic Bishop of Boston), con-
taining a full account of a visit which he paid to
Paine in his last illness. It was printed in the United
States Catholic Magazine for 1846; in the Catholic
Herald of Philadelphia, October 15, 1846; in a sup-
plement to the Hartford Courant, October 23, 1847;
and in Littell's Living Age for January 22, 1848,
from which we copy. Bishop Fenwick writes:

"A short time before Paine died I was sent for by
him. He was prompted to this by a poor Catholic
woman who went to see him in his sickness, and

511

who told him, among other things, that in his
wretched condition if anybody could do him any
good it would be a Roman Catholic priest. This
woman was an American convert (formerly a Shak-
ing Quakeress) whom I had received into the church
but a few weeks before. She was the bearer of this
message to me from Paine. I stated this circum-
stance to F. Kohlmann, at breakfast, and requested
him to accompany me. After some solicitation on
my part he agreed to do so? at which I was greatly
rejoiced, because I was at the time quite young and
inexperienced in the ministry, and was glad to have
his assistance, as I knew, from the great reputation
of Paine, that I should have to do with one of the
most impious as well as infamous of men. We
shortly after set out for the house at Greenwich
where Paine lodged, and on the way agreed on a
mode of proceeding with him.

"We arrived at the house; a decent-looking elderly
woman (probably his housekeeper,) came to the
door and inquired whether we were the Catholic
priests, for said she, 'Mr. Paine has been so much
annoyed of late by other denominations calling upon
him that he has left express orders with me to admit
no one to-day but the clergymen of the Catholic
Church. Upon assuring her that we were Catholic

512

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

513

Thus he will continue for some time, when on a sud-
den he will scream, as if in terror and agony, and
call out for me by name. On one of these occasions,
which are very frequent, I went to him and inquired
what he wanted. 'Stay with me,' he replied, 'for
God's sake, for I cannot bear to be left alone.' I
then observed that I could not always be with him,
as I had much to attend to in the house. 'Then,' said
he, 'send even a child to stay with me, for it is a
hell to be alone.' 'I never saw,' she concluded, 'a
more unhappy, a more forsaken man. It seems he
cannot reconcile himself to die.'

"Such was the conversation of the woman who
had received us, and who probably had been employ-
ed to nurse and take care of him during his illness.
She was a Protestant, yet seemed very desirous that
we should afford him some relief in his state of
abandonment, bordering on complete despair. Hav-
ing remained thus some time in the parlor, we at
length heard a noise in the adjoining passage-way,
which induced us to believe that Mr. Paine, who was
sick in that room, had awoke. We accordingly pro-
posed to proceed thither, which was assented to by
the woman, and she opened the door for us. On
entering, we found him just getting out of his
slumber. A more wretched being in appearance I

514

never beheld. He was lying in a bed sufficiently
decent of itself, but at present besmeared with filth;
his look was that of a man greatly tortured in mind;
his eyes haggard, his countenance forbidding, and
his whole appearance that of one whose better days
had been one continued scene of debauch. His only
nourishment at this time, as we were informed, was
nothing more than milk punch, in which he indulged
to the full extent of his weak state. He had par-
taken, undoubtedly, but very recently of it, as the
sides and corners of his mouth exhibited very un-
equivocal traces of it, as well as of blood, which had
also followed in the track and left its mark on the
pillow. His face, to a certain extent, had also been
besmeared with it."

Immediately upon their making known the object
of their visit, Paine interrupted the speaker by say-
ing: "That's enough, sir; that's enough," and again
interrupting him, "I see what you would be about.
I wish to hear no more from you, sir. My mind is
made up on that subject. I look upon the whole of
the Christian scheme to be a tissue of absurdities
and lies, and Jesus Christ to be nothing more than a
cunning knave and impostor." He drove them out
of the room, exclaiming: Away with you and your
God, too; leave the room instantly; all that you

515

have uttered are lies—filthy lies; and if I had a
little more time I would prove it, as I did about
your impostor, Jesus Christ."

This, we think, will suffice. We have a mass of
letters containing statements confirmatory of what
we have published in regard to the life and death of
Paine, but nothing more can be required.




INGERSOLL'S SECOND REPLY.

Peoria, Nov. 2d, 1877.

To the Editor of the New York Observer:

You ought to have honesty enough to admit that
you did, in your paper of July 19th, offer to prove
that the absurd story that Thomas Paine died in
terror and agony on account of the religious opinions
he had expressed, was true. You ought to have
fairness enough to admit that you called upon me
to deposit one thousand dollars with an honest man,
that you might, by proving that Thomas Paine did
die in terror, obtain the money.

You ought to have honor enough to admit that
you challenged me and that you commenced the
controversy concerning Thomas Paine.

You ought to have goodness enough to admit
that you were mistaken in the charges you made.

You ought to have manhood enough to do what
you falsely asserted that Thomas Paine did:—you
ought to recant. You ought to admit publicly that
you slandered the dead; that you falsified history;
that you defamed the defenceless; that you deliber-

517

ately denied what you had published in your own
paper. There is an old saying to the effect that
open confession is good for the soul. To you is
presented a splendid opportunity of testing the truth
of this saying.

Nothing has astonished me more than your lack
of common honesty exhibited in this controversy. In
your last, you quote from Dr. J. W. Francis. Why
did you leave out that portion in which Dr. Francis
says that Cheetham with settled malignity wrote the
life of Paine? Why did you leave out that part in
which Dr. Francis says that Cheetham in the same
way slandered Alexander Hamilton and De Witt
Clinton? Is it your business to suppress the truth?
Why did you not publish the entire letter of Bishop
Fenwick? Was it because it proved beyond all
cavil that Thomas Paine did not recant? Was it
because in the light of that letter Mary Roscoe,
Mary Hinsdale and Grant Thorburn appeared un-
worthy of belief? Dr. J. W. Francis says in the
same article from which you quoted, "Paine clung to
his Infidelity until the last moment of his life!' Why
did you not publish that? It was the first line im-
mediately above what you did quote. You must
have seen it. Why did you suppress it? A lawyer,
doing a thing of this character, is denominated a

518

shyster. I do not know the appropriate word to
designate a theologian guilty of such an act.

You brought forward three witnesses, pretending
to have personal knowledge about the life and death
of Thomas Paine: Grant Thorburn, Mary Roscoe
and Mary Hinsdale. In my reply I took the ground
that Mary Roscoe and Mary Hinsdale must have
been the same person. I thought it impossible that
Paine should have had a conversation with Mary
Roscoe, and then one precisely like it with Mary
Hinsdale. Acting upon this conviction, I proceeded
to show that the conversation never could have hap-
pened, that it was absurdly false to say that Paine
asked the opinion of a girl as to his works who had
never read but little of them. I then showed by the
testimony of William Cobbett, that he visited Mary
Hinsdale in 1819, taking with him a statement con-
cerning the recantation of Paine, given him by Mr.
Collins, and that upon being shown this statement
she said that "it was so long ago that she could not
speak positively to any part of the matter—that she
would not say any part of the paper was true." At
that time she knew nothing, and remembered noth-
ing. I also showed that she was a kind of standing
witness to prove that others recanted. Willett Hicks
denounced her as unworthy of belief.

519

To-day the following from the New York World
was received, showing that I was right in my
conjecture:


Tom Paine's Death-Bed.

To the Editor of the World:

Sir: I see by your paper that Bob Ingersoll dis-
credits Mary Hinsdale's story of the scenes which
occurred at the death-bed of Thomas Paine. No
one who knew that good lady would for one moment
doubt her veracity or question her testimony. Both
she and her husband were Quaker preachers, and
well known and respected inhabitants of New York
City, Ingersoll is right in his conjecture that Mary
Roscoe and Mary Hinsdale was the same person. Her
maiden name was Roscoe, and she married Henry
Hinsdale. My mother was a Roscoe, a niece of